“Yes!” cried Ma Dane. “More dancing!”
She signaled to the orchestra and they began to play a boisterous tune.
“Mark my words, the rebels will be here soon,” said Pa Coo-se-Nutoes. “They are stronger than you think.”
Couples flooded to the end of the room, anxious to dance away such thoughts.
That night, Beauty dreamt of fire, swords, and death.
CHAPTER TEN
The Danger
Three seasons later, the rebels marched into the Border Cities of Pervorocco. News of it rippled to Sago in hysterical waves. It was said that the rebels came in the night, towing canons and brandishing sabers and rifles. They called for Magical Cleansing and took all of the Magic Beings and Magic Bloods they could find and gathered them in pens like cattle. It is not known what happened to them after that. Some reports said that they were tortured; others that they were killed immediately. Either way, they were never seen or heard of again.
In Sago, the shantytowns rioted. Anyone suspected of Magic was hauled into the streets and beaten and kicked. Those that had not already fled to the Wild Lands now left in droves. People were surprised to find friends and families disappear overnight—there were more Magics in Pervorocco than anyone had initially thought.
The State Leaders gathered for emergency meetings to feverishly discuss what should be done. The rebels wanted alliance and if Pervorocco refused, they would invade. They had taken the whole of The Neighbor by force, and all were uncertain whether Pervorocco could withstand their guerrilla warfare. They had already barricaded most of the Border Cities, driving the residents from their homes and leaving bodies in the streets. Their only demand was an end to Magic.
The Herm-se-Hollis dining table conversation was strained in these days. Pa Hamish and Ma Dane barely spoke, their fear tangible. Pa Hamish had often suspected his wife of Magic but he had always pushed such troublesome thoughts to the back of his mind. However, he could no longer ignore the impending threat.
“Should we leave?” he said one afternoon as the family sat quietly in one of the mansion’s lounges.
There were few guests visiting these days and Beauty was permitted to spend more time with the family, though she would rather be in the stables with Owaine. Ma Dane made her sew handkerchiefs since she did not like to see her sitting and staring into the distance.
“Leave?” whispered Ma Dane, smoothing down her baggy dress. Since news of the rebels hit Sago, she had been deflating at an alarming rate.
“We could shut up the house and stay in the Forest Villages for a while. It would only be until things have blown over,” Pa Hamish said.
Eli looked up from his book.
“I will not be driven out,” hissed Ma Dane. “We have nothing to hide.”
Her eyes fell on Beauty and she quickly looked away.
The following morning, the State announced that Pervorocco’s Magical Cleansing would begin in the next moon-cycle.
Beauty was with Owaine at the time, tending to a skittish colt by the barn. They had just managed to calm it when a stable lad ran toward them.
“Owaine, have you heard the news?”
“What news?”
Beauty tried to steady the bucking colt, whispering soothing words as she had seen Owaine do.
“State has announced Magical Cleansing,” said the stable lad. “Anyone that needs to should leave the city now.”
Owaine’s brow furrowed.
“Thank yur, boy. But yur should go back to cleaning stalls.”
The stable lad slouched off.
“What is the matter?” Beauty asked.
Owaine stared at the ground, and the colt, sensing his unease, bucked even more.
“I feel I should go home.”
“Leave?”
“Yes. I never meant to stay, and if this is the way that Sago is turning, I should be in my hills. I worry for my daughter.”
“Please . . . please do not go.”
Beauty’s purple eyes begged and her lips trembled.
“Hush my child, yur shall see how things go.”
Over the next few days, Rose Herm was filled with an aching silence. Dread clogged the air and no visitors came, not even Eli’s teacher. The members of the house heard that there were more riots in the streets of Sago—as well as petitions and marches. People were indignant, frightened, and angry. But the State would not change its mind. One evening, a Leader was attacked while leaving the Chambers and his body was paraded through the squares. The next day, State officials were sent out into the streets to batter and slay anyone who stood in their way.
And the Magical Cleansing loomed closer. The State sent out leaflets asking citizens to give the names of those they suspected to be Magics, and it released a statement informing all that the State would send out Magical Hunters to seek those that tried to hide. There would be no escape.
The evening this news broke, Beauty’s dress-maid led her to Ma Dane’s office. Entering, Beauty was shocked to see Owaine standing uncomfortably on a fur rug, his hands deep in the pockets of his trousers. There were boxes everywhere and Ma Dane was rushing about the room, her loose dress sliding from her gaunt shoulders. When she saw Beauty, she stopped short.
“You are sure?” she asked Owaine.
“My hills are almost a separate country in themselves, Ma. The rebels won’t go there. What would they want with hill folk?”
Ma Dane nodded, but her fingers trembled.
“We, too, are leaving,” she said. “So when you take her, you will not be able to bring her back.”
“That’s fine, Ma.”
“She is dangerous.”
Owaine turned to look at Beauty and he shook his head.
“She isn’t, Ma.”
“Her looks raise suspicion.”
“Everyone in the hills is suspicious.”
Ma Dane swallowed.
“I will give you sticks.”
“I have saved enough.” Owaine turned to Beauty. “Are yur happy to come with me to the Hillands, child? It’s a long journey.”
Beauty scarcely dared to believe what she was hearing.
“Yes,” she whispered.
“Yur’ll become my daughter. Are you happy with that?”
“Yes . . . yes.”
Owaine smiled.
“She is more than she seems,” said Ma Dane, but he was not listening.
“I want to take Comrade,” said Beauty.
Ma Dane glanced at Beauty and she felt the bonds of a promise breaking.
“Pa Hamish’s riding horse? You may take him if you wish.”
Owaine did not have the heart to say that such a fine animal would be no use on the journey or in the Hillands. Beauty loved that horse and it would hurt her to leave it.
“You must go and pack now,” Ma Dane added in a voice that was breaking, “for the Magic Cleansing begins tomorrow and you must be out of Sago. We all must go.”
Owaine pressed his left hand to his chest and told Beauty that he would meet her by the stables once she had gathered her things.
A tense silence followed his exit from the room. Finally, Ma Dane turned to her ward.
“Beauty, I have something of yours that you must take with you.”
Ma Dane took a golden amulet from her desk and it caught the edge of a book, making a loud chink that vibrated around the room. Carefully, she carried it to the girl as though it pained her to hold it.
“The House of Rose?”
“Yes.”
Beauty touched the engraved rose and felt her fingertips crackle. Ma Dane placed the red sash around her neck and the amulet dropped to her chest, thumping against her beating heart.
“But what—”
“It was your mother’s . . . my sister’s, and it arrived with you when you came here. I will give Eli my amulet when I die. Do you understand?”
Beauty’s eyes widened. She had always believed that she came from a paupers’ hospital, the child of a fallen woman, as Ma D
ane told everyone.
“You lied to me about my birth!”
“There is no time for that—”
“I am a House of Rose! I am your kin!”
“No, you are the daughter of a Hillander now.”
Beauty’s eyes flashed. “Who is my father? Where did I come from?”
“That, I do not know.”
“More lies!” she screamed.
Ma Dane took her by the shoulders and shook her hard. “There is no time now. But you must answer me this, for it is important. What do you dream, Beauty?”
Beauty hesitated.
“Do your dreams come true?”
“No.”
Ma Dane held her for one moment longer.
“Then you are lucky,” she whispered, turning away. “You must get ready to leave now. You most likely will not see me again.”
Beauty glared at her, seasons of abuse spurring her bitter anger.
“Why did you treat me so?” she cried, tears prickling her eyes. “Why did I have to suffer?”
Ma Dane paused, her face flushing.
“I was protecting you,” she said. “I was protecting all of us. You do not know what you are—”
“You are cruel! You are evil!”
“No! You do not understand . . . but you must leave now. You are not my responsibility anymore.”
Ma Dane went back to packing her books and Beauty wiped away a stray tear with her fist.
“You will die!” she screamed. “For I have dreamt it!”
Ma Dane gasped as Beauty fled the room.
Part Two
A girl stood on the docks of Sago at twilight in the balmy heat. Her dress was plain and old fashioned, but she held her chin high, as if she were a true lady with great riches.
Sailors passed, offering her winks and whistles, but she stoutly ignored them. The general bustle of the city was beginning to ebb at this time of evening, and all were flowing into the squares to savor the very best that Sago’s nightlife had to offer. Cargo ships were tethered and stocks were locked away. The tide was in and the water was high. The girl stood amongst it all alone, waiting.
A smoldering dash of amber ripped the horizon against the oncoming darkness and the sea glinted in the fading light. It was muggy and warm and the water slapped sleepily against the docks, beating a dull rhythm. The girl touched an amulet around her neck out of habit, feeling the hard undulations of the engraved rose at its center.
“Dane!”
She turned to see her elder sister, Asha, running toward her, skirts tangled around her ankles. Asha wore the tattiest and oldest of their shared dresses but never seemed to care.
“Where have you been? Mother is worried.”
Asha waved away her suspicions and stopped to catch her breath.
“Mother knows where I have been.”
Dane’s eyes darkened.
“Asha, you did not mean what you said last night—you cannot leave!”
“I cannot learn any more here.”
“But what will happen—”
“Mother knows and she gives me her blessing.”
The sea rippled and waves crashed against the docks in bursts of white froth.
“Dane, why must you fight it? Why did you stop your lessons? It can be more than dreams, visions, and premonitions. I have learned spells and I can—”
“I do not wish to hear what you can do.”
The waves crashed louder and water splashed onto the edges of the docks. Seagulls squealed and squawked and in the distance the temple bells pealed.
“Come with me. Do you not get tired of holding it in, Dane? Does it not drain you?”
“I can control it and no one need ever know.”
“You sound just like Father and look what happened to him.”
Dane shoved her sister hard. “Do not speak like that! How dare you leave us—what will everyone say?”
Asha looked at the ground. “No one will remember me,” she whispered. “I can do that, you see.”
“But Mother—”
“I have told her what I will do and she has accepted. It is the only way.”
Dane’s brown eyes glistened with tears.
“Even . . . even me, Asha?”
“No, you must never forget. I dreamt that seasons from now I will have a child—an important child—and you must look after her for me.”
She paused and touched the amulet around her own neck. It had been given to her when their father died. Dane had received hers when their great-aunt passed away and left no heir.
“The baby will come with this.”
Dane gasped.
“But that does not necessarily mean—” Asha paused.
“So, this will be the last time that I ever see you?”
“Perhaps.”
The sisters looked at one another as the last rays of light disappeared over the horizon.
“Promise me that you will care for my child.”
The waves crashed.
“Promise!”
“Yes. I promise.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The Journey
On a warm Sago evening, Beauty followed Owaine out of the city. All that she owned in the realm could fit into a small saddlebag and she had packed it before Owaine had even readied the horses. As they went on their way, he gave her a thick cloak to cover her white hair, which made her sweat in the heat, and a pair of large gloves.
“We don’t want no trouble leaving and they’ll be useful on the journey,” he said, hoisting her into Comrade’s saddle. “We’re going somewhere that ain’t so hot.”
Beauty did not need to bid farewells, but as they rode through the iron gates of Rose Herm, she looked over her shoulder. In a far window of the mansion, she thought she saw a figure watching, his eyes following her as she disappeared. But when the house slipped away, she felt nothing.
The streets of Sago were dangerous in the current turmoil and would be worse still at night. Beauty remembered her last trip into the shantytowns, and her hands trembled as they held the reins. Comrade tossed his head in response, used to trotting down the boulevard and not understanding why it troubled her so.
As they rode into a busier area, Owaine slowed his horse to a walk. He had chosen a bay named Sable from the carriage horses on account of her stocky build and sweet nature, in the hope that she would make a good field horse.
“Ride briskly,” Owaine whispered, pulling up beside her.
Comrade was so tall that Beauty had to look down on Owaine.
“It should take us a few hours to get out of the city. Make sure you stay close.”
They pressed on, traveling into the heart of the shantytowns. Shadows ran past them in alleyways and they cantered through a brawl in a square, the sound of State officials blowing shrill whistles echoing after them. Bodies slept on corners and under rubble while night-women prowled the streets. The darkness was thick—the moonlight could not penetrate the deep bowels of the slums, and the air reeked of feted slime and fear.
“Spare some sticks?” the pair would occasionally hear a voice murmur from the gloom.
At one point, two patrolling State officials came upon them and glanced at Beauty’s cloaked figure suspiciously, but at the same time there was a scream from another street and a cry for mercy. The officials ran in the opposite direction and Beauty and Owaine hurried on.
As the tense hours passed, Beauty found herself growing tired. She began to sit limply in the saddle, her hands resting on the pommel and her chin bumping on her chest. Comrade, too, was lagging, his hooves dragging against the roads, for he was not a young horse, nor was he used to such thorough exercise.
“We’ll stop at an inn soon. Yur look fit to drop.”
Beauty jumped at the sound of Owaine’s voice and her eyes snapped open. She had not noticed him fall in step beside her and she looked around, realizing that they were no longer passing alleyways and huts.
“We’re in the Sago suburbs now. Made good time, Beauty.
I’m a proud of yur.”
She smiled weakly at him.
“But we can’t stop for long. No one knows what will be happening here.”
They rode on for another hour before Owaine finally halted at an inn. Comrade snorted loudly, stretching his neck, and Beauty stumbled to the ground, her legs buckling as she fell from his saddle.
“Steady, Beauty, steady ’em,” muttered Owaine, going to help her.
She waited in a haze of exhaustion as he booked a room and stalls and tended to the horses. Despite it being so late, other travelers passed on the roads, some stopping at the inn and some continuing on. They had a haunted look about their faces, as if they, too, were fleeing.
“Come on now, Beauty.”
Owaine led her toward the inn door. It was smoky inside, but he guided her swiftly past a raucous group of men and up a set of rickety stairs to a dark room. She fell on the bed and was immediately asleep.
She was awoken at dawn.
“We must go on.”
Owaine’s cot had already been folded away and Beauty blinked at the dim, muggy room. Her limbs ached from the long ride and she groaned softly. She was still dressed in her cloak and gloves and she felt stiff and sore.
“We can’t stop, Beauty. It’s dangerous.”
She forced herself up and climbed out of bed, wincing. The room looked different in the harsh light seeping through the window. The walls were patched with dew, the floor riddled with lice, and the bed sheets yellow. She suddenly wished to leave.
In a matter of moments they were riding on the roads once more, Beauty flinching at every jolt in the saddle and Comrade tossing his head in frustration. They stopped for omelets at a market at mid-morning and then pressed on, heading away from Sago and the Magic Cleansing.
And it continued like that for the next moon-cycle. Beauty’s days became an endless rotation of waking at dawn and riding till night. They stopped briefly at inns and taverns along the way and she ached every waking hour. When her saddle sores became too much to bear, Owaine tried to buy ointment, but every herb dealer and healer had disappeared with the threat of the Magic Cleansing and he could find nothing more than a balm that helped little.
Roses Page 7