by Keira Drake
His expression is so earnest, his humble admission so plain, I am taken aback for a moment. “It’s all right, truly,” I say. “I know you meant well.”
He nods. “I’m leaving in two days’ time. Shall I stop in before I go?”
“I’d like that,” I say. “And as it happens, my social calendar is quite clear just now.”
He laughs. “Don’t tell Keiji as much, or he will pester you to no end.”
“He is welcome, as are you,” I say, smiling and giving the little bow that seems to be customary amongst the Aven’ei. “It also happens that I am new here, and can use all the friends I can muster.”
“Mmm,” he says. “Tomorrow then—I will accompany you into town. The council wants to meet with you, now that you’ve left Eno’s.”
Could Teku Ana have changed his mind? Might they be willing now to send me home? It’s almost too much to hope for. “Do you know…do you know why they want to see me?”
Noro shrugs. “Likely they want you to choose a field.”
I smile and shake my head, confused. “A field?”
“We all must work, girl, and earn our keep.”
“Of course,” I say, disappointment welling up inside me. Of course they don’t mean to send me back to the Spire. A job, though—this makes me nervous. “It’s just, I wonder how I can contribute? I did once spend half a summer giving swim lessons to elementary students…although I suppose that’s not very useful around here. No…swimming pools. Or lakes, really.” My face grows hot.
“You said you were a mapmaker,” Noro says.
“Oh—well, yes. I had earned an apprenticeship, you see, and was to begin working with a Master cartographer shortly after my return from the Continent.”
He leans against the doorjamb and crosses his arms. “Do all citizens of the Spire undergo an apprenticeship of some sort?”
“No, no. Only those with particular scientific, mechanical, or academic inclinations—abilities as well as interest—are offered such positions. It is a great honor.”
“And what of all the rest—those without extraordinary skills? What do they do?”
“Every citizen is offered work according to his or her abilities,” I say. “Some lay the roads, some repair the tracks for the trains, some manufacture the goods used throughout the Spire. Others go into politics, or academia. There is a place, and there is pay, for everyone. All classes work hard, and the lowest amongst them enjoy a fair wage and education, and fine things, and all the security the nation can provide.”
“No poor? No hungry, or indolent?”
“There is no place for laziness in the Spire,” I say. “If a citizen does not wish to work, he is invited to relocate to the Lonely Islands.”
Noro frowns. “Invited?”
I laugh. “It’s not a thing to fear, it is only a place removed from our own society. Some choose it freely, others are sent by decree. It is quite rare, I assure you. Most people understand that the Spire functions as it does based on the contributions of all.”
“And so it is amongst the Aven’ei,” Noro says, “though we have no islands to bear our indolent, and you’re very like to find a drunkard or two in the taverns of Kojima. Strange place, that. It is where the beggars love to congregate, for the wine is good and the weather fine.”
“But you think the council shall find suitable work for me?”
“Don’t worry,” he says, a hint of a smile on his lips. “They’ll find something to do with you.”
CHAPTER 15
EARLY THE NEXT MORNING—BEFORE I’VE EVEN had time for breakfast—Noro arrives to escort me to the War Room. He has with him a small leather pouch stitched in red, which he gives to me as soon as he steps through the door.
“To get you started,” he says. “Until you have a wage of your own.”
I open the bag to find a handful of coins, roughly shaped, dull silver in color. There are three different sizes; Noro picks one of each out of the little bag.
“This largest,” he says, holding it up for me to see, “is the unzi. Worth quite a bit—it will buy you several weeks’ worth of food, or perhaps a small weapon of your choosing.” The coin, almost oblong, is stamped with a great fir on either side. “The middle coin is an oka. This will not usually get you a weapon, but will do well for food and luxury items, like books, or trinkets you may find appealing.”
I smile at this, and note that the oka bears an imprint of a face—a woman in profile, her features only subtle hints in the crude metal.
“And this last, the small one, this is the tuka. Not good for much—a sweet, a serving of tea—maybe a packet of nuts.”
“Right,” I say, clutching the bag as though it were a very fragile thing. Never in my life have I worried about coin, as I could buy anything I pleased in the Spire and had only to give the shop attendant my address. “Of course.”
“Take Keiji to the market with you while I am away, if it would make you feel more comfortable—he’ll see to it that you aren’t swindled.”
I smile but feel my pulse at my throat. I am to be self-sufficient in a way I had never before considered—I have no parents to fall back on, no vault stuffed with gleaming coins and notes of credit. Here in Hayato I will work for my bread and meat, I will earn these precious coins, I will spend and save—I will provide myself with all I need. The notion would be amusing if I were not so intimidated by the prospect. Still, I feel a glimmer of excitement. Surely I am capable? Surely I can embrace this new life, and find a measure of joy and success?
“You are smiling,” Noro says. “Did I say something out of order?”
I laugh. “I was only thinking of myself at work. I find I rather like the idea.”
He nods. “We have a saying: one must toil to find the value in each day.”
I envision myself hunched over a table, sorting papers, filing things away, organizing trade receipts. Yes. I do like this idea of work.
“I’m sorry,” I say, looking across the table at Teku Ana, a manufactured smile upon my face. “Did you just say manure?”
“Yes,” Teku says. “Manure is vital to the farmers—it provides nutrients which allow us to sow and harvest the same soil from year to year. All deposits made by the cows must be collected daily, lest they go to waste.”
I clear my throat and glance at Noro, who is openly amused. I scowl at him and turn back to Teku. “And I am to collect the…deposits.”
“You will collect the droppings and deliver them to the outbuilding where the manure is stored.” His brows draw together; he appears confused. “Is there a problem with this vocation? You did opt for animal husbandry as opposed to sanitation?”
Sanitation was more clearly defined—tending to the privies throughout town. I had thought I was avoiding any contact with feces when I chose to work with the animals.
“There’s no problem,” I say. “I’m grateful for the work.”
Teku smiles and claps his hands together. “Wonderful! I’ve sent for Shoshi Kaken—he should be here momentarily, and you two can work out the details.”
A chill creeps up my neck. I’m not likely to forget that name, for it was Shoshi Kaken who argued at the council meeting that it would be an unthinkable waste of resources to return me to the Spire.
Noro frowns. “Why should we await Shoshi Kaken?” he says, but his voice trails off, and a look of understanding comes over his face. “Oh.”
As if on cue, the door opens behind me and grim-faced Shoshi steps through, stomping mud from his boots on the stone floor. He raises an eyebrow when he sees me, then proceeds to sit at the far end of the table.
“How can I serve, brother?” he says to Teku Ana. “I came as soon as I received your summons.”
I can’t help but notice that the room now smells like manure. And possibly cows.
Teku smiles warmly. “Shoshi is the overseer of beef production for Hayato. It is he who cares for the animals that provide us with meat. You will receive your wage—two oka per week—by wo
rking with Shoshi to clear the fields of waste, tend the animals, and, when summer comes, collect and bale hay for winter.”
Shoshi goes rigid in his chair. “Now, Teku Ana,” he says in that oily, insipid voice of his, “surely there’s a better place for the girl than my farm.”
“Yes,” I say at once. “I’d be willing to consider another vocation if Mr. Kaken here has no need for me.”
Teku looks at me quizzically. “You prefer an assignment in sanitation, then?”
I almost say yes. Almost. Because I can’t decide which is worse: cleaning outhouses, or working with Shoshi. But the idea of human excrement…my stomach rolls, and I swallow.
“No,” I say, sealing my own fate. “I would prefer to work with the animals.”
Shoshi is not deterred. “I have use only for skilled workers, Teku Ana. This girl is of the Spire—pampered and privileged, not fit for hard labor. How can she tend a farm?”
“She’ll be shoveling shit,” Teku says. “I’m sure she’ll catch on without too much trouble.”
Shoshi shrinks back into his chair, a crusty old warrior in the face of defeat, and none too pleased about it. “Whatever you think is best.”
“Good,” Teku says. “When should the girl begin?”
“No sense wasting time. I’ll come at daybreak and show her the way.”
Teku smiles broadly. “Wonderful. I’m sure it will be beneficial for you both.”
* * *
Noro bursts into laughter as we exit the War Room. “Oh… your face, girl, when Shoshi said he didn’t want you. So much…so much hope.”
“Yes, it’s very funny, isn’t it? Well. You shan’t hear me complain. If I’m to collect cow droppings for a living, I’m sure I can find some way to enjoy it.”
He crosses his arms. “You will enjoy working with manure?”
“Well,” I say, “I’ll be out in the fresh air, working with the animals. Every day will be like a sort of adventure.”
“You’ll be working with Shoshi,” Noro points out. “The most miserable man I’ve ever met.”
“I have a way with people,” I say, my chin lifted ever so slightly. “I made a friend of you, didn’t I? And you scarcely have ten words to say in an hour.”
He smiles. “I will look forward to what you have to say at the end of the week.”
“If you think you’ll hear one word that doesn’t sing of grateful service, I’m afraid you’ll be sorely disappointed.”
“All right,” he says, but I can see that he is unconvinced. He nods toward the far end of the street.
“Shall we go to the town center? You might want to do some shopping now that you have a bit of coin.”
“I think I’d like to look around on my own,” I say. “But could you show me the way?”
He smiles—a small thing, a thing that makes me feel proud, and gestures for me to follow.
We pass through a short maze of winding streets—an odd mixture of residential and industrial construction, houses next to leather tanners and the like—to the village square. It’s a wide-open area, with wagons full of goods—vegetables, jewelry, chickens, clothing—parked in long rows. Men and women alike are hawking merchandise, calling attention to those in the marketplace. Children run underfoot, a man spits on what seems to be an eggplant and throws it to the ground, and somewhere, a baby cries, somehow louder than all else. I am assaulted by a thousand aromas: spiced meat and body odor are the most prevalent, but there is also the tang of incense, the earthy scent of animal feed, and the freshness of the damp morning air.
“This,” Noro says, “is the heart of Hayato. Here, you will find all the goods you need, and a few luxuries as well.”
“What sort of luxuries?”
“Scented soaps, fine clothes…that sort of thing. Waste of oka if you ask me.”
“Right,” I say, secretly yearning for a luxury of any kind. “Well. I’ll just have a look around then. I might find something…practical.”
“Remember what I told you about the coins, girl. These vendors will not hesitate to take a little extra money if they can get away with it.”
I smile. “I remember.”
He pauses for a moment. “You know how to get home from here?”
I tap my forehead. “Always. I’ve got the streets mapped in my mind.”
“Ah. Cartography.”
“Exactly.”
“All right then. Good luck, and I will see you soon.”
“Goodbye,” I say, but he has already turned away, melting almost at once into the throng of market-goers.
I head down the first row of wooden carts, inspecting the goods and deciding that I need neither pig blankets nor tiny baskets of silver-green frogs (I only hope the frogs aren’t meant to be eaten).
A haggard old woman behind a rickety wagon grins at me, her lips sucking inward where her bottom teeth used to be. “Hello,” I say politely, trying not to look at her puckered mouth.
She nods her head. “Are you the girl from the Nations Beyond the Sea? Is it true? You’re from the Nations Beyond?”
“Oh…yes,” I say, surprised.
“That golden hair! Like strings of sunshine.”
I give her a smile. “My name is Vaela. What can I call you?”
She laughs as though I’ve told an incredible joke. “I’m Ava. You want to sell—” here, she makes a sharp whistling sound at the start of the word sell “—that hair of yours, little Nation girl? Could give you three oka for locks like that—make a nice wig, I would.”
My fingers flutter automatically to my hair, and I grasp a handful. “Oh—thank you, no,” I say. “I couldn’t possibly.”
Her lips purse into a pout. “Four oka. Five—that’s the most I can offer.”
“Thank you, but no.”
She screws up her face, but nods. “Offer stands. Come back soon! I’ve got apples, too, fat as you please.”
“I will,” I say. “It was very nice to meet you.”
I move on to the next stall: a wagon filled end to end with daggers of all kinds, each tied firmly to the long black board on which they are displayed.
The proprietor fixes me with cold eyes. “I suspect you’ll want to be moving along. Nothing for you here, senukka.”
A young woman—strikingly pretty with the straightest, loveliest black hair I’ve ever seen—turns from the cart beside us, both eyebrows raised.
“A filthy word for a filthy man,” she says. “Why am I not surprised?”
He grins, flashing a row of crooked white teeth. “I don’t need your business either, Yuki Sanzo.” He bows deeply, gesturing to the road. “On your way.”
She laughs. “I wouldn’t spare even a tuka for one of these rattling bits of metal.”
He spits. “Might be one of those daggers will find your throat someday.”
“One can only hope,” she says. “At least then I shall know I am in no danger.” She links an arm through mine. “Come with me. I’ll steer you clear of those who behave like Topi.”
“I’ll mark you said that,” the vendor growls, his face dark with anger.
“Do as you please,” the girl says. “It is of no concern to me.”
She pulls me along the lane, away from the wagon, until we reach a crowded little walkway spread out beneath an awning of stretched silk. She turns to me, her eyes flickering over my face. “You hear that word again, outworlder, you stick a knife in the eye of the one who said it.”
“Oh,” I say, “I…don’t have a knife.”
“Get one.”
Her face is heart-shaped, with a delicate pointed chin and a dimple in each cheek, and her hair falls neatly to her chin, shining like a curtain of smooth obsidian. She wears a long, thin sword strapped at an angle across her back, the hilt visible above her right shoulder. Her eyes are dark, like all of the Aven’ei, and steady, like Noro’s. I like her at once.
“I’m Vaela Sun,” I say.
She bows shortly. “Yuki Sanzo. Tanner by trade, sword-bringer
in battle.” She frowns. “You’re much smaller than I thought you would be.”
I glance down at myself. Yuki is taller than I by nearly a full foot, her body long and willowy, like a dancer’s. Though our garments are similar, Yuki looks far more becoming in the slender Aven’ei tunic she wears.
“Well, I’m sorry to disappoint.”
She smiles at this. “Shall I accompany you, Vaela Sun? Even those who won’t insult you outright might be inclined to add an oka or two to any price they offer.”
“So I’ve been told.” I glance down the shaded walkway, noting more than one hard look directed my way from villagers and merchants alike. It would seem everyone knows who I am, and most are displeased to have a stranger amongst them. “I would be grateful for your company.”
“Good. What do you need then? Food? Tools? Weapons? A dagger, certainly.”
“I…perhaps some food, to refresh the pantry.”
Her eyes brighten. “Do you like aniguri? I know a man who brings it sometimes from the sea.”
“Aniguri?”
“Mmm. Sorry. Octopus,” she says, a dreamy smile upon her face. “Seared in oil, drizzled with sangui sauce, tossed in herbs. Every bite is like a taste of the ocean.”
My stomach turns; I have never been one for seafood, and the idea of eating an octopus, with its wriggling tentacles and pointy beak…no. I couldn’t.
“I prefer chicken, or perhaps roast duck,” I say. “And soups, breads, vegetables, wine—that sort of thing.”
“The simple things,” she says, nodding. “You’ll find plenty of that here—but look for the rarer treasures as well. The merchants come in from far along the ayota ko—the trader’s road—all the way to Kojima and beyond. Many Aven’ei are artisans in their leisure time, and we in Hayato can find a wealth of fine goods. Yarn, silks, tapestries, furniture, kettles—our people are industrious in their free hours. The hard-working want for nothing, so long as coin continues to pass from hand to hand.”
We go up and down the rows, a dizzying array of food, staples, and luxuries proffered from the various vendors. When I express interest in a bundle of spiced bread and cheese, Yuki haggles the merchant from two oka to one, a stern expression on her face. Happily, I hand over a silver coin and take the food, now wrapped in brown paper.