Cogling

by Jordan Elizabeth

  “I don’t need a bath!” Tears burned Edna’s eyes as the door shut. If the woman wouldn’t listen, she would have to find a way to escape. Edna rubbed her prayer beads. May the seven Saints guide her.

  Two girls dressed in blue silk robes carried a tub of water into the room. Edna stood in the corner, wishing she could step through the walls and flee. Her mother would faint if she knew her only daughter was in a gin house.

  The room Edna was in only had the one door, and without a window, she would have to exit that way. Her legs wobbled. Would she be able to run out? The two girls would probably catch her. She would have to wait until she had a clearer path.

  The woman from earlier followed the girls. She swung a basket at her side, her scarlet ringlets bouncing around her bare shoulders.

  “Strip and get in. Destiny likes her workers spotless.” The woman tossed a bar of vanilla soap to Edna from the basket. “It’s healthy to be clean.”

  “I don’t want to bathe,” Edna growled through clenched teeth. “I need to get to my brother. Hags took him.”

  “I can’t have your stench offending my guests.” The woman grabbed a hunk of Edna’s hair and yanked.

  Edna yelped, dropping to her knees. Tears filled her eyes. That hag.

  The woman pushed her back. “So. The bath.”

  Edna brushed her hair from her face, the sting fading from her scalp. Cleaning wouldn’t hurt, and the train had left a fine layer of grime on her skin. “Fine.”

  “Then get to it.” The woman towered in front of the door with her fists on her hips.

  “You want me to undress here?” Edna’s cheeks flamed. They should leave her alone. Baths were private.

  “Fast, so you don’t bathe in cold water.” The woman folded her arms. “You look too skinny to have much under those clothes.”

  Keeping her eyes on the wall, Edna turned her back and peeled off her clothes. Cold air nipped her skin, raising goose bumps. What would the others think of her dirty body? The girls in the silk robes stood on either side of the door with their hands clasped in their laps, their long hair curled into ringlets to match the woman’s.

  “Take off your chemise. You don’t want it drenched,” the woman snapped.

  Edna gasped. “I bathe in it at home.”

  “Off with it.” The woman grabbed the sleeve and yanked hard enough to tear the shoulder seam.

  They would see her scrawny body, the scars on her knees from falling on the sidewalk as a child, her private parts. Edna untied the drawstring collar and pulled the linen over her head. Pulling off her gloves, she lay them on top of the discarded shift before the woman could rip them. Since the prayer bead bracelet was tied to her wrist, it would have to stay.

  Naked, she stepped into the steaming water. A sigh escaped her lips as she sank in up to her shoulders. Drops sloshed over the rim of the tin tub. The water at home never got so hot. Sighing, she melted into it. Was this what it was like for Lady Rachel when she bathed in her porcelain tub?

  “Have you ever heard of hags stealing children?” she tried as she scrubbed her skin clean with the bar of soap from the basket. Even though strangers watched her wash, it felt good not to hurry so Harrison could have a turn before the water chilled too much. The evil nipped her lungs. She shouldn’t think like that about him.

  “Ain’t talking about hags right now.” The woman handed her a bottle of cleanser and Edna scrubbed her scalp. Matted curls stuck to her fingers; she cringed from each yank. Stepping out of the tub, she accepted an offered towel and dried off, rubbing her skin until it shone pink.

  The woman held out a white dress with lace sleeves. “All of the workers dress alike. You’ll wear this over it.” She shook a blue robe. “That hazel shade of your eyes is pretty.”

  Was that her way of adding a nicety? Edna stepped into the dress. The cotton cloth sagged on her frail form. The woman tied a yellow sash around Edna’s waist to hold the material in place. She’d never owned something that felt so new before, stiff and unworn.

  “Call me Augusta.” She turned Edna around to yank a comb through her kinked tresses.

  “I’m Edna.” She winced when the comb’s ivory teeth caught a snarl, and nibbled her fingernail to keep from crying out. Augusta might hurt her if she made a fuss.

  “From now on, you have no name,” Augusta said. “Destiny likes her workers to remain nameless.”

  “You have a name.”

  “You’ll sleep in the dormitory with the other girls during the mornings. You’ll be up at evening when Destiny does her best work. Her gin house is infamous outside of the city.” Augusta poured vanilla-scented oil over Edna’s head, burning her scalp. “You’ll do exactly as Destiny or I instruct. You’ll wait on the customers and never speak unless spoken to, which will be rare. When you’re twenty-five, Destiny will sell you elsewhere.” Augusta forced her to turn around. “Close your eyes while I paint your face.”

  Edna’s mind filled with plans to escape while she waited for Augusta to finish. Each plan seemed less plausible than the last. She couldn’t run away—Destiny might have safeguards in place. She couldn’t rely on Ike either. She barely knew him. He might’ve already escaped without her.

  The paint made her skin itch. “My parents would kill me if they saw me painted like an alley-whore.”

  ‘Don’t end up like me,’ her mother would say. ‘Find an honest living. Serving nobility, that’s noble enough.’

  “Don’t be bad mouthing us, girl.” Augusta pinched Edna’s bare shoulder and she jerked with a squeak, rubbing the spot.

  She’d worked as a maid long enough to know not to talk back, but angry words burned her tongue. She would have to bide her time, play the sweet, innocent servant.

  The rough wood of offered clogs pinched her toes and bumped her heels. When she looked down at them, oiled hair fell over her shoulder. Edna gasped. Only a wave remained in her once unmanageable hair. She almost looked like her mother.

  “This way.” Augusta turned to the door. “Don’t take off the clogs. We use them to walk through spills.”

  Edna snatched the watch from her discarded clothes and hung it around her neck, hidden beneath her dress. She didn’t have time to retrieve the money in her petticoat, so she would have to make do without, but she pulled on her mother’s gloves and the bracelet. A sense of comfort crawled over her hands as though she’d completed a part of herself. They wouldn’t take the gloves or her prayer beads from her.

  The evil wouldn’t let them.

  Edna followed Augusta through a narrow hallway, passing closed doors. At the end of the hall, Augusta lifted a silk curtain and stepped aside for Edna to enter first. Hazy smoke filled the large room. Men lounged on cushions, smoking pipes and hookahs, each with a bottle or mug of gin in his hand. Some sat at tables playing cards, like on the train.

  Where’s Ike? These servants all look too young.

  Girls and boys around Edna’s age flitted around the room refilling cups from elegant brass pitchers. A tall girl stood in the corner, her body twisting in the moves of a slow, provocative dance. Edna studied their faces, but they kept their gazes lowered. One of them might be able to help her escape, or at least have more information about the hags.

  Another girl in a scarlet gown danced on a stage while a young man played a violin. Edna really could become like her mother, dancing and singing with straight hair and elegant clothes.

  Augusta pushed Edna forward. In the unfamiliar shoes, she stumbled. Pain stabbed her twisted ankle.

  “The kitchen’s through that door. Get a pitcher and refill glasses.”

  The smoke made Edna cough. Through watering eyes, she glanced around the room, spotting two doors—one led to the kitchen, but the other she didn’t know. Outdoors, perhaps. Perfect. Her heartbeat sped up. Once she got outside, she would run until her muscles ached, and push herself more until she found somewhere safe.

  Stepping over sprawled legs, her shoes clacking, Edna walked toward the second door. The
other workers averted their eyes straight ahead or smiled at customers. Each heartbeat vibrated through her chest like a mantra: Escape, escape, escape.

  She held her breath as she turned the knob, hoping to see the outdoors. Instead, she collided with a tall body. A man folded his thick arms across his chest. He wore a white blouse, black pants, and a sword belt. A peacock feather stuck out of the brim of his top hat.

  “Get inside,” the guard snarled. Edna opened her mouth to protest and beg, but he slammed the door. If she could convince him to step aside, she could run free.

  A hand touched her elbow and she gasped.

  “Edna.” Ike whistled. “You can’t go through that door. It’s where the customers come through.”

  He wore a white tunic with a yellow sash around his waist like hers, and he also wore clogs. A red caplet draped over his shoulders. His dark, shoulder length hair had been tied into a ponytail. Her stomach felt light as she realized how roguish he looked, like a young lord attending one of Lady Rachel’s masquerade balls, using undertones to accentuate his masculinity. He didn’t need velvets and silks to bring out his strong chin or dark eyes.

  Edna threw herself into his arms and clung. “You didn’t abandon me!”

  Ike eased her away. “I was afraid they’d sold you elsewhere when I didn’t see you around.”

  “I just woke up.” She yearned for his warm hands on her shoulders again, reminding her that he’d promised to get her to Harrison. “How’re we getting out of here?”

  Ike lifted his pitcher from the floor where he’d set it. “There’s a storage closet in the kitchen. Meet me there.”

  “How…?” Edna groaned. He’d melted into the room’s smog.

  They’d get onto her if she didn’t start work. The hinges creaked as she pushed the kitchen door open. A wave of hot spices struck her face. Girls and boys hustled back and forth.

  Keeping against the wall, Edna wove around the room. She passed tables with pitchers, boxes of cigarillos, and stacks of barrels. Workers knelt by the spigots, filling their pitchers. When she reached a small door, Edna opened it, her heart racing in fear of encountering another guard.

  Instead, the closet contained untouched food supplies. Glancing over her shoulder to make sure no one looked her way; Edna stepped in and shut the door. She closed her eyes, calming her breaths until her heartbeat steadied. When she looked around, her sight had adjusted to the absence of light.

  The cluttered shelves made the space seem smaller. Unsure of how long before she should expect Ike, Edna sat. Her veins still throbbed, so she leaned her head back against a shelf and—

  Ike shook her leg, hissing her name. Edna jerked awake.

  “Listen.” Ike crouched beside her. “If the girls’ dormitory is anything like the boys’, then there aren’t any windows. I went to the privy off the kitchen, too, and we can’t climb through the hole.”

  Bile rose in her throat, images of crawling through sewage in her mind.

  “I don’t have a plan yet, but I’m workin’ on one. You got any ideas?”

  Edna shook her head. “We just have to escape soon. I’ll ask around, see if anyone knows more about the coglings and hags.”

  “I’ll keep an eye on you,” Ike said. “I’ll make sure none of the men puts his hands on you or anythin’ o’ the sort, but there ain’t much I can do, ya know. Wish it were different, but it ain’t. An’ don’t worry, we’ll get outta here. I’ll take care of you. You trust me, don’t you?” He clasped her chin between his fingers. His clear eyes bore into her, his cleaned face cast in shadow. The only light crept through the bottom of the door. “Say it.”

  “Say…” She yearned to believe every word he said.

  “Say you trust me.” He leaned close, his hot breath tickling her cold skin.

  Her heart raced, blurring her vision. “I trust you, Ike.”

  His mouth slanted down over hers, his lips forcing her mouth to open. The tip of his tongue touched hers and shock soared through her nerves. Warmth spread across her limbs, dispelling doubt.

  He, the experienced thief, would get them out. He has to. Harrison would laugh so hard; call her cow-eyed for gawking.

  Light washed over them as the door opened and a girl’s voice tore the two apart. “You’d best be gettin’ outta there before Augusta comes round an’ boxes yer ears. There ain’t no fondlin’ allowed.”

  Ike pulled away, his gaze locked with Edna’s. “I was just getting out.” He pushed to his feet, still watching her. “Comfortin’ is all I was doin’ here.”

  “Sure.” The girl scowled at Edna. “Get up, trollop, an’ get to work. Just because you’re new don’t mean you can dawdle.”

  Edna passed tables with pitchers and stacks of barrels. Workers knelt by the spigots, filling their brass pitchers. Edna picked one up, gasped at the weight, and filled it at one of the gin barrels. Her muscles screamed in protest. The Waxman Estate trays had never been so heavy. Odds bobs, she needed to conserve her energy, not waste it in a gin house. Cold air brushed against her legs. “Why can’t this ridiculous skirt come down longer than my knees?”

  Of course, no one answered. She might have to force them to warm up to her before she could get information.

  Stepping into the main room, Edna glanced to the right and left. The men laughed amongst themselves, scenting the air with their gin-soaked breath. No one looked as if he wanted more to drink. At Waxman, people who wanted more waved two fingers. No one did that, either.

  She would work around the room and try to locate another escape route.

  “You the girl Annie brought here, called you Eddie?” a male voice asked.

  Edna’s hands tightened around the pitcher as she turned her head. A tomtar stepped through the haze.

  “Jimmy!”

  What they say, so it is.

  immy nodded toward an empty table. “Over here.” Shadows from his moles stretched across his caramel skin.

  Edna’s hand shook as she set her jug on the table with a clunk. “You were right there when we were stolen, but you didn’t try to save us.” Her throat tickled from the smoke in the room. “What are you doing here?”

  He glanced at their surroundings through bloodshot eyes. “The master lets me come to bring home—”

  “Can you fetch the police?” She opened her mouth to say more, but wasn’t sure what else mattered. If he’d wanted to do that, he would’ve done it already. Maybe she could pretend to be his sister, or wife, or owner—something—and slip out with him.

  “You’d better pour before they think somethin’ is funny,” Jimmy said. “Where you come from, the police help the peasants?”

  “I’m not a peasant!” She sloshed gin over the edge of his cup and looked around for something to clean it up with—no rags in sight. She used her skirt. So much for being clean.

  “Sorry.” Jimmy shook his head. “You were kind t’ me, so I wanna do you a favor.”

  “Get someone to listen to you! These people can’t keep Ike and me here. It’s kidnapping. My parents won’t be able to track me, and I have to save my brother.”

  “The police can be bribed, and them owners here got the stuff to bribe with. This place is popular ‘cause they cater to everyone, even a slave like me.” Jimmy sipped the gin, scratching his pug nose.

  “You only came to rub it at me that I’m stuck? Tell me what to do.” Tears burned her eyes. “Please. There has to be a way. If Ike and I can’t think of a way out, maybe you can.”

  He pulled out a sack from under his coat and thrust it at her. “Wish I could do more. Selling folks off makes a world of trouble.” Tipping the glass back, he downed the contents and stood. “Gotta get some for the master.”

  Whatever it was, could it really lead them to freedom? Edna stuffed the sack into her top. The cotton swelled, but the folds helped to hide it. “I’m begging you. I’ll do whatever you want, just please, get us out.”

  He lifted her hand to kiss her knuckles. “You’re real determined, s
o I hope this thing’s enough.”

  “Jimmy.” She choked on his name as he left for the stage. He wouldn’t help her anymore, and pleading would make her look ridiculous. Clutching the sack under her top using one arm, she hurried toward the kitchen, keeping her head down to avoid looking at the people she passed. The full jug, held only in one hand, strained her muscles. She sighed when she set it in the kitchen. Maids bustled through the door, clanking their pitchers and gossiping in hushed voices.

  Pretending she’d dropped something, Edna crawled under the table to remove the sack. Maybe he’d wrapped up a key or a disguise.

  Unfolding the coarse material, she discovered knotted rope. How could she use it to escape? Maybe strangle someone. Probing the rope, it unrolled into her lap, becoming a ladder. How could that help? She hadn’t seen any windows she could climb through. A frustrated cry rose in her throat, but she fought it down. There had to be some way to use the ladder. Maybe she could pretend to be a painter, but she didn’t have any supplies.

  Ike dropped under the table beside her so fast she screamed. He slapped his palm over her mouth.

  “Shh.” He slid his hand off her lips. “I saw you dart in here with something.”

  She trembled as she held it out. “Jimmy gave it to me.”

  Ike fumbled with the rope. “Who’s Jimmy? This might be a trap.”

  “Jimmy’s the tomtar. Annie’s slave.” Each clanking of pans and splashing of drink made Edna jump. If someone caught them, they would take the ladder away and she’d be no better. She glanced around the kitchen as best she could from her position. “I don’t see any spyders. We should be safe if we stay hidden.”

  “I’ll definitely trust Jimmy, especially since Annie and her pa sold us here,” Ike said in a monotone.

  “Odds bobs.” Edna stared into his eyes. “We gotta get out of here. We can’t let Harrison rot. Jimmy had seemed sincere, flustered. I refuse to believe he’d try to trap us further.” Harrison needed her to figure out how to use the ladder.

  “We can’t rot.” Ike scowled. “I’ll keep the rope and try to think up a plan. If you get any ideas, holler.” He rolled out from beneath the table.