“Those of us who loved her began the search the next day. We found her body at dusk.” She swallows. “She was too weak, and she had the beginning of an infection. She stood no chance. We thought you were dead too – taken by one of the scavenging creatures in the wood. We had no idea. It was only when you arrived that I realized what must have happened. He found you – your father. He was too late for Miranda but he took you.”
“He just left her body in the woods?”
“If she was dead, then you surely were starving. If he had tried to create a grave for her body, he would have forfeited your life. Let the dead bury their dead, I think they say. He saved you, Leora. And I am so grateful that he did. The guilt I felt the day we buried your mother beneath her tree has weighed me down all these years.
“Do not judge us too harshly, my dear. Justus saw something he did not understand. Fear is a terrible thing. I think it has taken us all these years to put ourselves back together again. And then, just when I thought we had” – she gives a little smile – “you arrived. Coming out of the darkness into the fireside, the very image of your mother, with your brown hair that doesn’t know whether it wants to be wavy or straight, your pale skin and that worried, amazed look in your big eyes.” Ruth smiles tenderly. “You even walk like she did.” She sits back and lets the story settle.
In my mind, I take each piece of the tale and lay it out, right side up. I put it together and try to see the picture from their point of view. And, for the first time, I think I understand it.
No wonder the blanks are reluctant to trust me. My own father confirmed every fear they had. He was the stranger Nate from the story, made flesh. A marked man can only steal and destroy. My father stole one of their women; he destroyed her, he destroyed a family.
But he wasn’t that man. He was not the villain they have always believed him to be. He fought for their rights back in Saintstone till the day he died.
They think I’m like him.
I’m not like him, not nearly as good or courageous. But I want to be.
And they truly believed I was someone special, Mum and Dad. They thought I, this tiny baby born to a blank, yet born marked, could bring peace – just like Mel said. And at last, I know what I want. I want to honour them, to please them and prove them right. I don’t feel as though I’m a blessing, but at least I can choose not to be a curse.
I sit before Ruth and, through tears, I promise. That I am not Nate, come again to destroy them. I want to be the child my parents believed I would be.
And in my heart I promise myself this is it – I will not do Longsight’s bidding any more. I can’t save my loved ones, but I can at least not betray the blanks. I will stay and I will not lead others astray. The salt stings my face and I embrace the pain.
“I will pass on your assurances to the elders. You are brave, little light.” And I gasp at hearing the name my parents called me. “I saw you when you were just born.” Her eyes twinkle her affection. “It was an honour to be your mother’s midwife – I was the first to see your mark. I knew your name before your parents did.” And she holds me so close I can hear her heart beating and feel her breath on my skin. “I think your mother would be glad you have come back,” Ruth whispers. “You’re home now, Leora.”
Chapter Twenty
When Ruth stands at the fireside that night and tells the people she is pleased with the progress I am making and proud of the way I am assimilating, I can’t contain my smile.
“She is learning quickly and proving herself faithful and, as such, we will allow Leora to remain with us, on the condition that she continues to keep our secrets and follow our ways. Remember, Leora: no lies and no marks. This return of our lost child is a blessing – a sign of good things to come. We should embrace Leora – it is no less than her mother would have asked of us.”
There is silence when I stand. I can only hope they see how much I mean what I say.
“I have heard your tale of Nate and his evil. I know that you see my father as no more than another marked traitor. You have been treated badly, and the presence of a marked citizen in your village has only ever meant division and pain. But I promise to be different. I vow to be faithful to Featherstone and to protect, love and honour you as my own.” I raise a hand. “No marks. No secrets. No lies.”
They put it to a vote and the majority agree with the elders: I have the freedom to remain with them. I feel the weight of their trust – their expectation – and I try to believe I have the strength to shoulder it.
The Whitworths let Fenn tend to the fire when we return to their house and then call us to sit at the kitchen table before we go to bed.
“Solomon and I are so glad that the community made their decision today,” says Tanya. “We want to thank you, Leora. You have been a willing worker and a cheerful addition to our home, in spite of the hardships you have had to share.” Gull is smiling widely while Tanya talks. “We want to invite you to call our house your home for as long as you are in Featherstone; we want you to receive our acceptance into our household and into our family.”
I look around the table, into eyes that smile and faces full of love. Except Fenn’s, of course; his eyes are dark and bitter as they meet mine across the table.
And that’s when something in me that has been hard and brittle starts to crack. Like the boxes in the memory room, I put them away: Verity, Obel, Mum and Oscar. I let them go – figures from a different tale, one that has come to its end.
“Th-thank you,” I stutter. “I would be honoured to be part of your home.” Gull jigs in her chair and claps her hands, and Solomon laughs.
“We need you to be ready early tomorrow, then.” Tanya grins. “It’s Fenn’s birth day and the whole family must attend the ritual.” Fenn slides his chair out and leaves the kitchen to go to his room, Lago at his heel. It’s obvious that if Fenn had a say, I would be nowhere near him, his family or his birth day ritual. But Tanya’s eyes are warm and shining across the candlelight.
I want to settle into this moment – into this family and community. I want to be a blessing, a protector, the one who finds a path to peace, but even as I feel this hope, guilt sings softly in my ear. It’s a familiar tune: everyone I love, I betray. I am a curse. I am.
Chapter Twenty-One
It’s Fenn’s birth day. We leave the house just before dawn and follow the people ahead of us as we walk to the lake.
“So, this is a really big day for you all?” Gull and I are holding our extra layers tightly round ourselves, already shivering in the misty air as we walk towards the lake. At home, on our birth days, we get a new mark, some cake and some singing.
Gull is full of energy, almost breaking into a jog. “This is the one day a year a person gets to really feel free. For the person whose birth day it is, it’s a fresh start – it’s like you’re as pure as the day you were born, again. And it’s a great day for the community.”
Her excitement is infectious, and I can’t stop my smile as she holds my hand and we continue towards the lake. My heart fizzes in anticipation. There is already a small cluster of people congregating on the lakeside. They make room for us to join them, but I can’t quite see past the tall woman in front of me. A few minutes later, we are motioned to sit, and I see Fenn standing between Tanya and Solomon, who both look solemn – anxious, even, I think. Fenn’s head is bowed and he is dressed head to foot in white linen.
A simple long tunic, a little crumpled, reaches just past his knees. His feet are bare – the only one of us with no shoes on – and his ankles look vulnerable poking out from plain trousers. He looks exposed – I’ve never seen Fenn like this. When he shifts his feet, the hem of the tunic swings oddly in the breeze. Fenn seems nervous – shy even – and when he sees me his deep eyes hold mine for a moment. It’s the first time he has allowed me to look right at him without it feeling like a fight – the first time I’ve met his gaze and his eyes aren’t full of fire. Instead I feel like he’s telling me something. Watch this,
he’s saying. Watch this.
I try to imagine what it feels like to have to be the centre of attention on a day like this. In Saintstone the only public events are the markings. I shiver suddenly and feel a flash of fear for Obel, for Oscar. I hope they’re safe. They will be. I can’t let my heart be led astray by thoughts of Saintstone. This is home now.
“It’s starting,” Gull whispers, interrupting my thoughts. “Listen.” Both Solomon and Tanya hold Fenn’s hands proudly, protectively, as Solomon speaks.
“Our own founder, Belia, showed us that we must throw off our old ways and enter into a new life, leaving the mistakes of the past behind, looking only to the future. Just as she plunged into these waters, so Fenn will step into the lake. In the same way as the waters passed over Belia’s head, they will wash Fenn clean. And just as Belia cast those weighty stones into the lake, Fenn, laden with sin though he is, will, when under the lake, cast off these cumbersome robes and leave each transgression beneath the waters. And he will return to us, free, as he fixes his eyes on the shore, and we will bless him. He will have won for us all the freedom and blessing we so long for.”
Sin, sin and more sin. I think of Gull’s anxious face as she loads her bag with stones. I push my unease away. I am here to understand, not to criticize. I wonder what Mel would make of this – would she understand them? They love their stories, just like she does.
Tanya and Solomon place their hands on Fenn’s bowed head.
“Have you collected your sins, dear son?” Tanya asks Fenn.
“I have.”
“Have you carried them – your own burden to bear?”
“I have.”
“Have you embedded them in your robes as a symbol of the sin embedded in your soul?”
“I have.”
“Do you intend to tell and embody a good and true story for as long as you live?”
“I do.”
The community draw nearer, and those who are close enough place their hands on Fenn.
“As we share our sin, we share in your atonement. As we share in our sin, we share in our glory.”
And they take their hands off him and he turns to the water.
“Let us be witnesses this day of Fenn’s rebirth. Let us watch as he faces the waters alone – just as we will one day face judgement alone. Let us pray that he succeeds and is set free. Let us celebrate our community’s redemption.”
No one moves. Only the lake waters make a sound as they lap and suck at the stones on the water’s edge. I see Fenn clench his fists and I shiver.
He steps into the water, not seeming to notice the cold – not flinching or making a noise. The hem of his tunic darkens in the water and he walks on. Step by step, getting deeper and deeper. He is almost ten metres into the lake when the water reaches his shoulders. He is walking away. I wish I could see his face. He pauses; his shoulders rise as he takes a breath and dives under.
We wait.
We wait until the ripples hit the shore and we wait until the breath I’ve been holding is released. We wait until I’m sure we can wait no more and I cling to Gull’s hand. But she stands calm, and just when I am going to cry out that we must save him, Fenn breaches the surface.
I feel a rush of pure relief that seems to be echoed in every soul around me. The congregation gasps air with him, our tears warm on our cheeks. He swims towards us and then stands, eyes locked on the shore, and with each step I see a ripple of his skin, a wave, a trickle, a flood, and he steps out of the water bare-chested, tunic gone.
I glance up at Gull and she’s looking at her brother, unedited joy written over her face. I look back down at the ground. I see a white stone and I realize.
The stones.
The tunic and the way the hem moved. They sew the stones into their tunics and step into the lake, on their birth day. And if they are truly good then they cast off their heavy sins and rise light. A re-enactment of Belia’s own curse being broken.
Fenn is being wrapped in colourful sheets of cloth and blankets, and I have a sudden memory of Dad being wrapped in blue after he died – but I blink and he’s gone.
Fenn’s skin is beginning to glow as he warms up, but I can see his teeth chatter. Fenn is passed the lit torch and he leads the way back to the village. Triumphant, enrobed and pure. At one with himself, the people and their world.
A feeling I hadn’t anticipated begins to bubble within me. This passion and happiness at such an act is infectious. Fenn looks remade.
It’s lies and nonsense, Longsight would say. Not the true way. Not real. But I look at Fenn, at the happiness in his face, and I wonder: Who is to say what isn’t real?
Later on, shivering as I get undressed in the chilly bedroom, I look at my marks and wonder if perhaps I am no different. I carry my sin with me now – and not enough of it is on my skin. I would give anything now to free my soul.
I think of Fenn’s face – the freedom as he stepped out of the lake, his body light. And I have only ever felt that way once. The day I walked out into the snow with my crow around my neck, I felt drunk with peace. But it was really the start of the war.
I don’t know what I believe any more; I only know that today has shaken me. Because right now I have nowhere for my sin to go. It’s neither being inked on my skin nor placed in a pouch, heavy round my waist. It is in my soul, and all of a sudden I feel it, clutching at my heart, burying its roots in my lungs, sending its trail of evil and wickedness around my body.
Chapter Twenty-Two
The fireside tonight is all about Fenn and his birth day. The party has already begun; people clap rhythmically and whoop and cheer when Fenn appears. I can’t help but grin. For just a moment my empty stomach isn’t the first thing on my mind. When everyone has gathered, Solomon stands and the clapping continues, different family groups tapping out different rhythms which together sound like a heartbeat, like a dance, and I can’t help but move.
I watch Gull, taking in her beat, and I join in. She smiles at me, but our eyes are fixed on Fenn, who is passed around the group as though he is a gift. He smiles and talks to people as they dance together, and then he moves to the next. I’ve never seen him like this – so open, so part of the crowd. When he turns to face the fire, golden in its light, and roars in primal delight, everyone whoops with overwhelming joy.
I am lost in the celebration too, clapping and dancing, letting the warmth of the fire kiss my eyes and lips and cheeks. I watch the fire crackle and listen to the wood burn and suddenly, for a horrible moment, I am back in the hall of judgement watching Jack Minnow throw my father’s skin book into the flames.
I shake myself, reminding my anxious mind that it wasn’t really Dad’s book I burned, in the end. I don’t even know where his is. If they were telling the truth, Mel and Mayor Longsight, then it’s out there somewhere still. There is hope for him. I shiver despite the flames. In turning my back on Saintstone, have I ruined Dad’s only chance to be remembered? Does any of that even matter now?
Someone is pushing their way through the dancing crowd – Kasia, her eyes wide. She sees Tanya and grabs her by the arm.
“Come quickly,” she cries. “It’s Ruth.”
We huddle, anxiously, outside the house. Everyone is here, I realize, flaming torches raised in the dark, people huddled into small groups, waiting to see if she’s OK.
Justus comes out of the house, followed by Tanya. Justus raises his hands.
“In life, we are one. In death, we are one. Ruth has begun her walk to her blessed home and we will accompany her on the final journey tonight.”
I look around. It can’t be true – not Ruth.
Tanya puts her arm around me, her eyes bright with tears.
“She was old, Leora, and she was getting tired of life. She had become very sick. Every day was a struggle for her.”
She was my ally here, I realize. And she was the only person who would tell me about my mother. She taught me so much in such a short time.
That I was loved.
That I belonged. That stories are just stories and what they mean depends on the teller.
Those standing close to me bow their heads while raising one hand, and I see that the others in the square have done the same. I tentatively copy them and then, smothering the silence, the wails begin.
Chapter Twenty-Three
All the next day I feel an ache in my throat that won’t go away. I feel like a fraud. Who am I to mourn Ruth when I barely knew her? And yet she knew me – from the first cry. And I wonder whether I am mourning for Ruth, or for what might have been. A hole where something like family might have blossomed.
But I don’t deserve to mourn, I think. I look at the reddened eyes of those who knew her, worked alongside her all their lives, and I feel guilty. She was so good to me and I repaid her with betrayal. I’m glad I’ve vowed not to respond to Longsight’s next call, but it doesn’t change the fact that by meeting with Verity that one time, I’ve already done the very thing Ruth taught me that Featherstone most feared. So I keep my head down, keep my mouth shut and get on with my chores. Mum would be proud, I think, with a rueful smile.
They hold the death ceremony without delay, at the following fireside. I am not squeamish about death, about the body. And I wish I could have marked Ruth’s skin, wishing my dad was here to flay her, wishing we could tan her, bind her and remember her. I am sick at the thought of her works imprinted on her soul. They say she is journeying to her final destination. But what if it’s not enough? What if she is not righteous? Can they really trust in stones and water and face death unafraid? My legs shake, for once not from hunger but from fear. I don’t know what I believe any more, but ink is in my blood and it’s hard to shake the belief that it’s the ink that saves.
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