We ask for no compensation or exchange of trade. Our request is that if at another time, in some way, our people require aid, yours would reciprocate. If a friend can share with a friend, a people can share with a people. Despite the conflict and suffering in our world, we continue to believe this.
You know we’re never as far away as it might appear. You need only send a message to the address noted below, and a dispatch will reach us within hours.
To the reign of love,
Dru Kai
Milan Visham
When I finished, I held the letter on my lap as Nikolas continued writing. Even if I’d been able to talk, I would have been speechless. The three of us named, not only Nikolas; The Mapmaker’s War mentioned; the Ancient Elders—they meant Egnis, Ingot, and Incant, didn’t they? From what I’d witnessed in the past months, I had no doubt what was at hand was significant, but until that letter, I hadn’t begun to comprehend the magnitude. Fear and hope snarled in the pit of my gut.
I gave the letter back to Nikolas with a look of astonishment. He smiled but shrugged as if to say, he, too, had no words.
He passed my notebook, open to the start of his message.
Much bad news today. First, war. Eastern Giphia in Haaud’s control now. Kirsau holding tenuously. This could turn if Seronia and Bodelea, or both, join Haaud’s side, as they have before. Confirmation Haaud & Emmok occupy Uldiland, H west of river, E what’s east. Advisers debating whether to send aid to Giphia & what to do about Emmok. But we’re under no direct threat. There’s been no specific ask for help from anyone. Yet.
Second, rents. Some building owners are willing to accept our deal to cover rents BUT one who owns arable land wants to require labor of tenants. He claims what the kingdom will cover is a pittance & that would make up for it. This is a most egregious suggestion but appears majority of Council & town reps willing.
Third, received word an adviser is dead. Not from Rothwyke but was here in March. Sickened with plague. Palsied arm. Both hands bled. Died clawing at his chest. He was titled, which means his eldest son takes position. I’m tempted to find an excuse to strip him if only to have one fewer cocky myopic on Council.
Fourth, letter from my sister. Youngest niece sick with chin cough, should recover, but of course Pretty is worried.
Last, missing parents. Grief still comes in waves & this one has leveled me.
He was staring into the full moon’s light when I looked at him. I sensed more than saw a flutter ahead and called to what was there. The moth abided, landed on my fingertip, and sat with his wings spread. His golden antennae were delicate as feathers. Carefully, with his permission, I lowered him to Nikolas’s knee. When Nikolas reached for him, the moth climbed on his waiting finger. Nikolas lifted him to the sky, circled him with the moon, and watched him fly away.
When Nikolas turned to me, the tenderness in his eyes softened the shape of my heart.
In the notebook, he wrote, You are my refuge. I love you.
You are my anchor. I love you, too.
When I returned to my room, I tore out the pages, folded them tight, and buried them in my satchel. I would hide his words at Old Woman’s cottage and hold the feeling where no one could steal it.
WEEK 9
DIARY ENTRY 17 AUGUST /38
Yesterday, the plague surprised us. The adults’ condition is unchanged. The children can speak again but cannot hear. If only that were all. The young ones have physical afflictions, too. This afternoon, Harmyn and I played with a group in the woods. How they shouted because they could! Of the nine, three seemed to suffer most visibly. Reg walked with a crutch. Daisy hunched at the shoulders whether she stood or sat. Lia had a red blotch which covered her whole cheek.
When I asked Harmyn why the next phase struck only the children and what was happening to them, she couldn’t tell me. Or wouldn’t. Truly, what could they have done to have these marks and infirmities?
This is a break in the pattern. Think now . . . plants and animals in spring, first phase on the summer solstice. A sound guess—the adults will enter the second phase at the autumnal equinox. FIVE more weeks of this, then a season unable to hear?!
A letter from Charlotte arrived, dated 29 July. Birth imminent, as of that date. She warns me I’ll want to take a knife to myself when I end up in her condition one day. No word from Muriel. Perhaps she’s traveling back to the conservatory.
Aside from a meal last week with Father, I’ve not returned to the house. Harmyn is now allowed to take a carriage for her lessons. I feel a desire to burn the diaries—as I did for Aoife’s manuscript—but a curiosity about them, too. I doubt I’ll find her in those millions of words, but still I wonder. Several times, I’ve started a letter to Leo to ask about her, even one to Remarque, but I cannot gather my thoughts.
Tender greens to harvest in the ward garden, and come autumn there will be beets, carrots, cauliflower, potatoes. Soon we’ll plant the next crop.
WEEKLY POST.
16 August /38. Page 1, Column 3
NEW! Horology & Mechanics Club (all welcome)
Every 1st, 8th, 15th, 21st, and 28th, six o’clock, Carncloch, 18 1/2 Upper Peet. Those interested in mechanical devices, join us as we reveal the mysteries of springs, escapements, and gears. Students will dismantle broken clocks, old Tell-a-Bells, and faulty music boxes and learn to repair them. No skills required, only curiosity.
Performance Guild
Town Concert: 21st, six o’clock, on Green
Ward & Area concerts and performances: Refer to posted placards,
updated weekly
Craft Guilds & Music Guilds
Ward & Area instruction: Refer to posted placards, updated weekly
Athletics—Men’s & Boys’ League
18th and 20th, on Green, six o’clock (evening)
Relays, javelins, weights, fencing
Athletics—Women’s & Girls’ League
19th and 21st, on Green, three o’clock
Badminton, weights, fencing
From the Plague of Silences Recollection Project Archives, Selected Excerpts
Diary No. 832. Female, 40, laundrywoman
I’m blind in one eye now. Why? Because I turn away and allow it. He’s the master of the house, his ways, his rules. Like my father. I’ll not have a soft boy grow to a weak man, he says. Said. Now the beatings happen in silence, and now I truly SEE. The shame I feel, because what do I do? I’ve no means. Mother would send us back if I went to her. She suffered this, too, so why should she help free me? This is our lot, isn’t it? Oh, what did I not see when we courted, which might have warned me? Too late once married, trapped myself, trapping my children.
Diary No. 31. Male, 29, occupation unknown
Terrible terrible. Mr. H— found Mr. M— hanging from the neck in the cellar. A mystery why, although there are rumors he was in substantial debt. He’s to be buried tomorrow. J— and some of the fellows will meet at Bull and Ram tonight. None of us shall be nagged upon his return home pickled and cured.
Diary No. 307. Male, 54, physician
Most perplexing, the abrupt change which came. Group met to identify the visible afflictions of late; will send to colleagues with an initial report. As named,
• The wasting—loss of muscle; shrinking of limbs or spine; concavity of body, esp. chest or abdomen; also includes hunched backs and similar unexplained deformities
• The festers—spontaneous wounds, boils, blisters
• The contusions—spontaneous bruises
• The sanguine blot—continual bleeding, typically spotting, from genitalia, anus, and mouth (female and male patients)
Dr. S— asked if anyone has observed that younger patients (15, 16, 17), suffering as the majority of adults, have either borne/sired children or have erupted wisdom teeth. Although he serves in charity, the group agreed we should make note of our own patients. Remarkable, if this is so.
Interview No. 13. Female; age during plague, 6; current occupation, lawyer
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I’ve never forgotten this. We had a new puppy, and it would soil in the house. Each time, I would get angry and scold it. One day, I was outside, screaming at it. The dog could hear, but I couldn’t. Remember that—I couldn’t hear. A girl with rather short hair and funny clothes came up and took the puppy out of my arms. She asked why I shouted at him, and I said he messed on the clean floor and he should know better. The girl said, “Look how young the pup is. He’s going to make mistakes sometimes.” I said, “No, he’s a bad dog and deserves to be punished.”
It was then I noticed the girl’s strange eyes, almost lavender in color, and she asked, “If you were your dog and he were you, what would you expect him to do?” I said, “The same, because that’s what you do to teach someone to behave.” I remember I started to cry hard then. She touched my hand, it felt very warm, and she asked, “If you were your dog and he were you, how would you want him to react?” Through my tears, I said, “Be nice with hands and words.” She said that would be wonderful and asked how that thought made me feel. The girl laughed when I said, “Like a smile and a sunny day.” She put the puppy on my lap, and we petted it together. She told me next time he made a mistake, maybe I could try treating him the way I’d want him to treat me.
Then I felt a kick on my backside and turned to see my stepmother screaming down at me. I watched her face twist and that auburn hair wave like flames on her head. I realized I couldn’t hear the men working on the drains, or the blacksmith one block away either, but I’d heard every word the girl said to me. Mother pulled at my sleeve to make me get up. She kept shouting as I held the puppy, who shivered against me, and then she had some sort of fit on the steps, stomping a beetle.
Later, after the sleep, I knew the girl was Harmyn.
My stepmother’s name? Audrey. Born C—, married W—. Why?30
WEEK 10
HARMYN INSISTED WE GO TO Nikolas’s private office after dinner. She had been in a subdued mood for days but gave no explanation when I asked what the matter was.
Nikolas and I turned the high-backed chairs near the fireplace toward the window. I put my notebook on my lap. Harmyn peered at the weapons on the wall, drawing her hand away quickly when she touched a mace, scowling when she stared at the gold sword. She raised the flame on the lamp at the end of his desk, which was covered in stacks of documents.
“What I want to tell you now, I need you to listen,” Harmyn said. “You know why the adults have their afflictions. The children’s, though, are different. Theirs aren’t from the deeds they’ve done—but the harm done to them. Secret, when you gave me the vial, and you saw the bruises and cuts and how I screamed, it’s because I . . . remembered . . . what happened to me. The other children remember, too, but not all at once, as I did.”
I pressed my hand against my forehead, dreading what I was about to hear.
Harmyn continued. “Many of them understand their bodies hurt because of what’s happened to them. Things adults have done, parents, family, neighbors, even strangers. Some older ones who can write are asking each other questions. Some have been brave and told friends, and the bravest have told adults. I know some figured out that the adults’ afflictions reveal their hidden guilt.
“It’s no surprise, though, when the children tell, most of the time no one believes them. They’re told they’re lying or making up stories. Or the adults try to justify things, or turn on them, making what happened their fault. Physicians tell them it’s impossible for an old injury to appear again, or for scars to break open, or bad feelings to make their bodies hurt. What the children claim can’t be true. Especially not among the wealthier families. No, the beatings and abuse, that only happens among the poor—like me, remember? The marks showing on them now? Well, they got those recently, from an accident or fight with a friend. There’s a reasonable explanation. As for the invisible hurts, the pain no one can see—oh, that’s their imagination.”
That instant, my left cheek began to ache. A memory flashed; I saw myself at my full-length mirror after the fever, touching a greenish bruise under my eye. Fur and feathers on the floor, broken windowpanes behind me.
“I’ve glimpsed,” Harmyn said. “I know what’s happened to them. Not only the slaps and beatings. I know what cruel words they’ve heard, being told they’re no good, useless, other terrible things. The times nothing was said but they noticed the sharp looks and heard the angry sighs and felt alone because they’re ignored. I know why their bodies are bleeding in places they shouldn’t—and no one should suffer that.”
Now my heart pounded and my stomach churned with nausea.
“You have to understand—I feel what they feel. Everything. Grief, anger, confusion, shame, rage. It floods into me. What the Guardians are doing does help. The fun activities, especially the physical ones. But all of that energy has to go somewhere. It’s part of the shadows. Secret, the children who’ve come to the woods and sit motionless—they’ve forced the feelings inside. The ones making trouble, they’re letting it out.”
Nikolas leaned over with his head in his hands.
“Nikolas asked me what he’s supposed to do,” Harmyn said. “I don’t know. You tell me. Who’s going to admit what they’ve done is wrong? How’s that supposed to stop? Adults protect adults anyway.”
He looked at her. His entire body tensed.
“I know quite well what measures are in place for the worst cases. I’ve watched children die all over town, not only in Elwip, thanks to those laws and the charity workers who heed them,” she said.
Nikolas remained seated as Harmyn stood, but they faced each other. Whatever he said to her, he didn’t bother to take my notebook and tell me.
“I’m giving you warning. Once the adults get sick like the children, I don’t know how everyone will endure,” she said.
I pointed to the notebook, then to my ear.
Nikolas grasped the pencil. So, all you can do is sing and try to make it all better? he wrote.
His sarcasm shocked me. I nudged his arm, but he ignored me. The caustic words brought tears to Harmyn’s eyes. She drew several jagged breaths and didn’t speak until she calmed them.
“I’m trying to do what’s in my power—which I’m still learning—as you should do what’s within yours. You could do more for your people. You’re the king,” she said.
Not so simple. Balance of interests, rules, laws, he wrote.
She shook her head. “Excuses, that’s what those are. That’s all they’ve ever been. Right now, there are more people living on the streets than during your father’s reign. I know you know this. I know you’ve seen the numbers. But I saw you in the southeast wards when I was little. I saw what you did, bringing food sometimes, talking to people. I know what kind of person you are under that title,” she said.
Nikolas rose up from his chair and took a step toward her.
“No right to speak to you that way? I have every right to tell you the truth,” she said.
He rushed at her with his hand raised—I leapt to my feet—and he stopped still.
“Go ahead. Do it. See how it feels,” she said. She stood tall, her expression fearless.
He turned to lean against his desk.
“Yes, sir, I’ll go to my room,” she said. She glanced at me and disappeared into the hall.
What is wrong with you? I wrote.
I don’t know what came over me, he wrote.
Something ugly, to be sure, I wrote.
When I found her, she was sitting on her bed in the dark.
You were provocative with him, but his response was undue. He shouldn’t have threatened you, I said within her thoughts.
I don’t care. I’m not afraid of him, she said.
What you told us, I don’t know what to say. This is horrible. And you, for you to feel and know what you do, I can only imagine how hard that is, I said.
That’s why I’m so tired. By the end of the day, I only want to sleep. The plague has to run its course and all I can do is try t
o help everyone from tearing apart. Tearing at each other, too. I could barely manage that with Nikolas, she said.
That seems too much to ask of yourself, I said.
But that’s what is required of me, she said. Stay for a while.
I climbed next to her.
She leaned against me. Tell me the Myths of the Four. Start with when Egnis found baby Azul in the river and brought the orphan back to life, she said.
WEEK 11
AFTER OUR GARDEN WORK, HARMYN and I followed the Misses Acutt to the walk-up. Four weeks prior, we began to accept their invitations to tea. Sometimes the other neighbors would join us, sometimes we were alone. On that day, Jane went to her weaving class—Dora was still working—and we hadn’t seen any of the Elgins since the children sickened with the second phase. Tall Miss Acutt said Mrs. Elgin told them Julia and Lucas had a terrible coryza. I suspected otherwise.
On our way to the building, I noticed few children playing outside. Before the ninth week, groups of them were out on the streets with balls, jump ropes, marbles, and hoops and some with instructors teaching an activity, such as drawing or music. As we walked, I glanced around at the open windows. Now and then, a little face peered out.
The Misses made our tea while Harmyn and I visited with Sir Pouncelot. I drank mine quickly to let Harmyn sit with them to talk, she using her voice, the two of them writing. Despite the sisters’ pantomime of protest, I dusted and swept and cleaned. I thought of the dutiful girls in the tales I once loved and of Old Woman who taught me to appreciate a chore well done. It pleased me to help them, because I wanted to.
When I was finished, I asked if they’d seen the Elgins.
Mr., once last week when returned from work. Mrs., keeps to herself more than usual. Hardly at all since little ones lost hearing, Short Miss Acutt wrote on the large slate board on the low table in front of them.
The Plague Diaries Page 34