by Ana Salote
‘I’m like a black lizard,’ he said to himself.
‘Sore?’ said Lucinda weakly from where she lay, limp in the battered armchair. ‘I’ll make you some new knee and elbow pads.’
‘Makes no difference. I’ve grown my own scales. I can’t remember what colour I am really.’ He licked a finger and made a paler track across his arm.
‘See, you could be cleaner. I think you like the disguise.’
Alas looked at her sharply. ‘Saves you looking at this, don’t it?’ he said, tapping one of the raised rings on his face.
‘You know I didn’t mean that. Anyway, it’s not nearly as bad as you think. I’m sure you’ll wash up fine when he lets you go. Won’t be long ‘fore you’re too big for those chimneys.’ Lucinda let her words carry on her out-breaths; it saved energy. Alas left off picking at his knee and looked at his friend with narrowed eyes. ‘Me, I’ll be scrubbing stairs till I’m sixteen I reckon. I hadn’t grown a bit at the last measuring. But that’s the deal isn’t it? We got to keep our eyes on the future – sunshine and freedom.’
A brass bell jingled in its recess on the wall, above the plate marked ‘Stairs’. Lucinda looked up. It was time. With a sigh she pushed herself upright, and picked her way between the raggy mounds of sleeping waifs.
Master Jeopardine waited at the foot of the Huntsman’s stair. As Lucinda approached, he placed his hand precisely on the mahogany banister, faintly clouding its blood glow. Lucinda made a pad with her duster, greased it with beeswax, and, following the dark satin billow of the Master’s dressing gown, restored the banister’s perfect sheen in his wake. She saw a thin slice of his profile, the eyes angled back towards her, the corner of his mouth just tilted with satisfaction. He swept on up to the first landing. A flash of burgundy satin and he was gone.
Lucinda followed, polishing diligently, all the way to the top of the narrower basalt stair which led to his room. If there were any marks on the banister he would see them on the way down, and then he’d want a forfeit.
She caught her breath in fright as Alas stepped up behind her. ‘What are you doing?’ she whispered harshly. ‘Don’t touch anything. Look at you. Don’t you dare get soot on these stairs.’
‘I want to tell you something.’
‘Tell me later. Now get off the stairs.’
There was a sound from far above them. Flinching, they both looked up into the gloom, past the frozen grin of a wolf and the bear’s talons swiping at air, to the monstrous tree-wide antlers spread over all.
‘He’s in bed now. Leave that and come and talk to me.’
‘Are you mad? Get away from here and I’ll wake you when I’m done.’
‘I’ll wait up.’
Lucinda took a candle down from its bracket and Alas left her poring over the marble for traces of soot.
Alas sprawled in the armchair and pondered. Immediately his eyes began to droop. Sleep seized its chance and bundled him back to where Dream waited. When Lucinda got back he was moaning as though his mouth was full of wool. She shook him and waited for his eyes to focus.
‘Same one?’ she said. He nodded. ‘Want to tell me about it?’
Alas sat forwards, his head hanging. ‘That little door at the back of the, what do you call it? – the Bone Room.’
‘The Ossiquarium he calls it.’
‘Yes, what do you think is behind it?’
‘I don’t know for sure, but I think it’s where Master prepares the bones for his collection.’
‘It’s the only place in this house that we don’t have to clean. Why is that?’
Lucinda shrugged. ‘It’s not our business. It’s all I can do to get through the days without looking for more work. Here, look what I got from the night tray.’
She had poured a puddle of milk into the wax catcher of her candle. ‘Drink it. It’ll help you grow and you’ll get away from here sooner.’
‘Only if you share it,’ he said.
Lucinda wet her lips and gulped showily.
Alas tutted and shook his head. ‘Why are you so good to me?’ He swallowed the creamy milk and felt his stomach leap, and yet it was poison. If he was right it could shorten his life like poison.
‘When I get out of here,’ said Lucinda, ‘I’m going to live on cream and eggs and puddings, and I’m going to have a little cottage, with just one floor – no stairs, and I’ll have a maid come in to clean – I never want to clean again, but I’ll treat her well and she will also live on puddings. So what did you want to tell me?’ she said, settling under a heavy curtain on the hearth.
Alas got down on his stomach next to her. ‘I been thinking Cinda. I been thinking an awful lot. Reta – I don’t think it was an accident.’
Lucinda folded her lips and stared at the fire in silence.
‘And Lenud, I don’t believe he got lost. And all the other so-called accidents… there’s just too many for chance.’
‘You think Master is arranging accidents a’purpose. Why would he do that?’
‘To save on the leaver’s purse. That purse is worth more’n he spends on us for all the time we work for him. That purse is our wages for eight or ten years of labour.’
Lucinda shook her head. ‘He’s cruel, I know, but not a killer, surely.’ Her voice rose uncertainly. They sat silently watching the play of fire on the last embers. Lucinda sighed. ‘You’re too full of imaginings. It don’t do you no good. This dream, didn’t you once dream that rooks were pecking your eyes out, and you’ve still got both your eyes ain’t ya?’
‘Don’t mock me, Cind. I got to tell someone or I’ll go mad, but if you want to make fun…’
‘I’m not, I’m listenin’ hard but a dream is just a dream. My grandmother was a seer and even she said that dreams only show what could be. “If you’ve skill enough, you can steer out of any current,” she used to say.’
‘Let’s steer then. Let’s not just drift.’
‘What can we do against Jep? We got no power at all.’
‘What are we known for?’
‘Survivin’ ways.’
‘What makes a survivor do you think? You’ve got to look out for yourself all the time. You see things coming; you don’t just wait. You didn’t cling to that raft from Poria for hundreds of miles just to give in at the end did you?’
‘What do you want to do then?’
‘I don’t know. There’s Miss Spindle. She always questions you after a measuring. Try dropping some hints.’
‘She’d go straight to Jep.’
‘I don’t think so. She takes inspecting serious. Rules is her life. Do you want to help me or not?’
‘Alas, I ain’t convinced, that’s all. You’re a born worrier and you dwell on the dark side of things, even when you’re asleep. Lay low and grow has served us well till now, and that’s what I’m keeping to. All I want is to get growed and get out.’
‘That’s a long way of saying you want to play safe. I’ll do it on my own then.’
‘You’re so…, you’re so… uhh!’ she grunted.
Alas turned on his back and looked for answers in the fire-dancing dark. He didn’t know it but Oy lay awake with him.
3 Steering
‘How many for dinner?’ Molly cook asked.
Mrs Midden’s eyes rolled and she fell flat on her back like a stone.
‘Oh mercy!’ said Molly cook, running round the table and as quickly backing away. ‘I do believe… I do believe… Sly, here quick! My Aunt Midden’s… I think she’s dead.’
Sly dropped to the ground with his ear to the fat cook’s chest. He shook his head. ‘She is too.’
Mrs Midden opened her eyes. ‘Dead. Not so quick.’ She pushed him aside and struggled to sit up. ‘Don’t you be so quick to pronounce on me.’
‘I’m not pouncing on anyone.’
Mrs Midden swayed sideways. ‘Not dead, but queer, very queer.’
‘Aunt, let’s get you onto the settle. You’re green at the gills, and look, you’ve cracked your head o
pen.’ She lifted Mrs Midden’s bun and peered at the slime of blood in the grey hair. As Mrs Midden lay back on the settle her legs began slowly cycling in the air. Sly averted his eyes from her complex underthings.
‘Oh dear,’ said Molly cook, ‘Sly, you’d better fetch the Doctor.’
Alas pulled himself up out of the skylight and turned to help Oy.
‘This is the only good part of chimneys,’ Alas said. ‘No one can get to you up here.’
He stood with one foot resting on the parapet and took a deep breath. The country lay at peace around them. The factory was a scar in the distance but it was largely screened by trees. There was the estuary and the port, one ship making good speed to the east, cutting white through the dark waters.
‘Look there,’ he said to Oy. ‘That’s the ship to the colonies. Jenfa and Nat should be on it. Imagine the freedom, Oy. Standing on deck, the wind blowing your hair, washing everything away.’
‘Why are you so sad then?’ said Oy.
Alas looked down into Oy’s wide grey eyes with a flutter in his stomach. ‘You’d better get on clearing that gutter while I look for this wasps’ nest. Walk along the leads there and find where it’s blocked.’
Alas scaled the steep-pitched attic roofs with ease, peering into the chimneys and poking around with a stick. ‘Found it,’ he called. ‘If you’re done you’d better get down. This lot will swarm when I break the nest up.’
‘What about you?’ said Oy. ‘Shouldn’t you cover yourself?’
‘I don’t feel anything so little as a sting.’ Alas paused again, staring into space. ‘I saw her you know – Reta, lying on the parquet, arms and legs crooked in the wrong places, just stirring she was, and trying to speak.’ He thrust one of his arms into the chimney and brought it out covered in wasps. ‘Go on now. Go quick, they know what I’m going to do.’
Oy chewed his lip. ‘Do you?’ he said.
‘Do I what?’
‘Do you know what you’re going to do? That hurting you got, if you could make it into doing…’
Alas looked at Oy intently. ‘Go on now.’
Oy slipped through the skylight and made his way blindly down through the house. He crossed the kitchen yard with his bucket of moss, sludge and leaves and emptied it onto the waste heap. Looking up he could see the tiny figure of Alas balanced on the parapet with the swarm of wasps smoking darkly from the chimney behind him.
Hooves beat down the flintway. Oy stepped back behind the waste heap as Dr Sandy rode into the yard. He watched the Doctor dismount, his legs holding the shape of the horse’s barrel girth as he crunched bandily around the side of the house to the kitchen steps. Oy scanned the roof anxiously but the little figure had gone. ‘Fretting ’n’ sweating.’ The shout came from Mrs Midden’s open casement. After a while Oy heard the Doctor’s voice grow louder as Molly cook showed him to the door.
Suddenly Alas came running across the gravel, a few wasps still dotting his clothes and hair. He stood panting in front of the Doctor. Looking puzzled, the Doctor dodged around Alas towards his horse.
‘Wait. Doctor, a minute, please. You ain’t a bad sort, I know you ain’t. Sometimes I think you’re on our side, saying we needed a fire and getting us the extra bread in winter.’
The Doctor’s eyes swept the windows and grounds. ‘This is not a good time…’ He made towards his horse again.
‘I got to know: Reta, did she live?’ Alas spoke low and urgently.
The Doctor turned back and looked at Alas keenly. ‘No, sadly. Too weak to survive injuries like that.’
‘There’s too many accidents. I think it’s all done a’ purpose.’
The Doctor cocked his head towards the cover of the bushes where his horse waited. Alas followed. ‘Do you have any evidence?’
‘No, but I been dreamin’ that nobody really leaves here. We used to see them off but not now, and no word ever comes back.’
Dr Sandy sighed. He adjusted a stirrup and addressed himself to the horse’s side. ‘If you have any complaints you should speak to Miss Spindle – not about dreams mind. She would sniff at anything less than facts.’
‘What am I supposed to do – find the bodies?’ Alas blurted desperately.
‘Now, now; don’t get carried away. She might listen if you had something in writing.’
‘Writing! None of us can even read what’s wrote. How would we know what to look for?’
‘You must learn to read then.’
Alas looked disgusted.
‘I know, a stupid remark. You can hardly drop into the library for a spot of study when it pleases you.’
‘Sir…’
‘Enough, you risk my position and your… and worse for yourself. Now get back to work before you’re seen.’
‘Is Dr Sandy still here?’ said a smooth, hollow voice.
The Doctor walked briskly towards Master Jeopardine and greeted him.
‘How is Mrs Midden?’ asked the Master.
‘Early stages of run a’bed,’ reported the Doctor. ‘Semi-delirious. If there are no complications she’ll be poorly for five days, and convalescing for a week. It’s contagious to those who didn’t catch it in childhood. Porians are mostly immune so the waifs shouldn’t be troubled.’
Jeopardine took a step back and covered his face with a handkerchief.
‘I take it you haven’t had it then?’
‘No-ooo,’ the Master drawled distastefully.
The Doctor reached in his bag. ‘Feafol’s Firewater: gargle three times a day and hope for the best.’
‘Bandy Sandy!’ came from Mrs Midden’s window.
The blades of Master Jeopardine’s cheekbones lifted as he smiled in a superior way behind his handkerchief and he retreated inside with the medicine.
The Doctor flinched and walked to his horse. ‘Undiluted firewater is tonsil-stripping stuff,’ he said in a low voice to the boys crouched behind the waste heap, ‘but we’ll let the Master find that out for himself.’ He winked at them and rode away.
The boys walked back towards the kitchens. ‘You should put something on them stings,’ said Oy. ‘There’s one still wiggling in your arm.’ The two of them bent to look.
‘Nice talk you had with Dr Sandy?’ The wall spoke with Inch’s voice, then her head appeared above it.
Oy was startled but Alas kept his eyes ahead and walked on. He brushed his arm. ‘It’s nothing.’ He pulled Oy away, quick with anger. ‘There’s only two things in that woman’s life,’ he said, as they rounded the sculleries, ‘one is gossip, the other is getting our cards marked.’
‘The forfeit cards?’
Alas nodded. ‘Always hiding and sneaking and springing up like a doll-in-a box. Raymun’s the only one she can’t catch out.’
‘Ain’t he never had a punishment?’
‘Never.’
‘You don’t think she heard what I said?’ Alas pondered. ‘I mean, a Porian might, but not an Afflish. Not from there.’
They experimented by speaking in low voices at a distance from each other. It soon became clear that Oy did not have the sharp hearing typical of Porians. He was more like the Afflish in that respect. Alas heard Oy clearly but Alas’s words were indistinct to Oy at the same distance. This reassured them. Alas’s dark mood of recent weeks began to lift and by evening it showed on his face.
‘What’s happened to you?’ said Lucinda, peering at Alas curiously.
He sat hugging his knees, his eyes lit by the fire, and something else. ‘I started steering,’ he said.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Wait till we’re all here, and I’ll tell about it.’
‘There’s only Blinda to come. Here she is.’
‘Oh what a day.’ Blinda staggered to the water butt. ‘I’m sheet blind. Staring at that whiteness all day. Couldn’t tell a sheet from a shirt by the time I’d worked through twenty piles of whites.’ There were murmurs of sympathy.
‘Get your bread and come and sit down. I’ve got something to s
ay.’ Alas looked round at their thin, exhausted faces. ‘First off, I got bad news: Reta didn’t make it.’
Lucinda blinked hard. Gritty winced.
‘How do you know?’ said Lizbuth.
‘I asked. Reta didn’t make it, and neither did Lenud, nor Stanly, nor a dozen more before them. There’s always been accidents, but now – now I’m starting to see a pattern to it. It’s not random any more. It only happens to them what’s due to leave. And what about them that do go? We used to wave ‘em off in daylight. Raymun even got to ride with them down to the port sometimes. Not anymore; most just disappear in the night.’
‘Alas, you’re scaring them,’ Lucinda interrupted.
‘Well we need to be scared. Lay low and grow ain’t the best way to survive anymore.’
‘Says you,’ said Kurt.
Alas turned to the younger ones: ‘Look at it this way: what got you through all that laundry today Blinda? Your own little dream of the future I’ll bet.’ Blinda nodded. ‘It’s only hope what gets us through this. If there ain’t no future, then what’s the point of all this grind? Might as well refuse to do it, and take the consequences.’
‘Who told you about Reta?’ asked Gritty.
‘Dr Sandy.’
‘If we ain’t laying low, what should we do?’ said Elyut, who liked to please Alas.
‘We got to protect ourselves as far as we can. Instead of aiming to grow, we better stay under the measuring line for as long as we can. And don’t give Jep no excuses to hand out punishments. That means no faults in our work and just answer “yes” or “no” when he speaks to you.’
‘If he wants to find faults he’ll find them,’ said Blinda. ‘You’ll see,’ she said to the new waifs, ‘he twists things.’
‘I’m just saying, let’s not make it easy for him,’ said Alas. ‘As well as that we need to watch and listen. Use the eyeholes in the hatches and report back every night if we see or hear anything out of the ordinary.’ He spoke to the new waifs again. ‘Eyeholes can be closed for privacy, but some sharp waif from way back fixed it so’s we can slide them open from our side. We got another advantage. Afflish don’t know how good our hearing is. They think we’re out of earshot when we can hear everything they say. Now this is a hard one: Dr Sandy says the written word is everything to such as Miss Spindle and we should learn to read.’