Making a Tinderbox (The Tinderbox Tales Book 1)

by Emma Sterner-Radley

  Elise had put the brandy down and was wiping something off with a rag, her movements big and exaggerated by the drink. Nessa tapped her on the shoulder. “How are you getting along? Any questions?”

  “No, I think I am just about finished. This is that pointy thing which you said lays next to the windpipe —”

  “Blowpipe,” Nessa corrected.

  “Yes, that. I am placing it in its little home right now. There, all done. How are you getting along?”

  Nessa took a swig of the winterberry brandy. It was deceptively sweet at first, right up till the point where the alcohol stung her mouth, throat, and all the way down to her stomach.

  “Good. The fire has plenty of fuel to keep it going for hours now. However, it looks like the windows need a wipe down. I forgot that yesterday. If Secilia notices, I’ll get a bollocking tomorrow. Layden hasn’t finished sweeping, anyway.”

  Elise smiled as she took the bottle. “Sounds like I will have to start the singing on my own, then.”

  “I can sing and sweep,” Layden piped up from behind them.

  Nessa cringed. She knew what Layden’s singing voice was like.

  “Oooooh, there is a lady in Highmere. Sheeeee’ll mount you like a mare,” he sang off-key.

  Nessa shook her head. Someone could overhear them. There might be children outside. Sure, the walls were thick, but there were windows. She looked at the windows, maybe they weren’t so dirty after all? Maybe they could leave?

  Elise on the other hand merely laughed and joined in. “And many deserted loooovers say there is no man oooor beast who can compare.”

  Nessa looked at Elise. She had a nice singing voice. Sweet and high-pitched, like little silver bells chiming. She cursed inwardly. Was there anything about Elise that wasn’t going to go straight to her heart?

  Layden came closer to Elise, leaning on his broom right next to her. She put her head on his shoulder and together they sang, “So the lesson in the tale in thiiiis, proper mounting sure is rare!”

  They all laughed until Nessa collected herself. “You can’t be singing that so loudly.”

  “Why not? Sweet Nessa, you must stop being so worried and so proper. We are all adults here and drunk enough not to worry about decorum,” Elise said in a drunken drawl.

  Nessa crossed her arms. “You are giving me lessons on behaviour?”

  Elise pursed her lips. “Fine. All right. No more singing.”

  Layden cleared his throat. “Well, as we seem to have left the merriment behind now – has anyone had any ideas about the men in the green uniforms?”

  Nessa shook her head once more, this time to clear it. Changing topics so quickly was hard when her mind was fogged with brandy.

  “No, not really. I know no one outside of Ground Hollow, and none of the villagers would have reason or silver enough to hire men to find me. I still say they can’t have come for me,” Nessa said.

  Elise sucked her teeth. “And I cannot think of anyone who would want me found.”

  “So, no closer to an answer, then?” Layden asked while reaching for the bottle.

  Nessa sighed. “No. As much as I hate to say it, we will simply have to wait and see if anything comes from it.”

  “I think we should take some precautions, though. Just in case these people who seek us have nefarious intentions. Perhaps we should ask Hunter to keep an ear out for anyone searching for us? And maybe change residence?” Elise suggested.

  Nessa gave it some thought. “Yes to asking Hunter to keep tabs on the situation. No to the idea of moving. I like where we live. Besides, neither these men nor Layden could find us. Not until Hunter got involved, anyway.”

  “True. We can go find Hunter when we have finished here. Would you like to meet him, Layden?” Elise asked.

  Layden handed Nessa the brandy. “I’m sure I would like to. But it’s getting late and I should be getting back. I need to be home to open the apothecary tomorrow morning.”

  Nessa packed the bottle into her satchel, worry churning in her stomach. “Are you sure you should walk so late at night?”

  “I’ll be fine. I borrowed the Haydens’ donkey and rode here, so the trip should be faster, and I’ll be harder to catch than if I was on foot. If, despite this, I am attacked, I’m armed.” He opened his coat to show the glimmer of a knife hilt in his inner pocket.

  “You came here on a donkey?” Elise slurred. The brandy was truly making itself known in her behaviour now.

  Why did she drink so much? I usually get drunker than she does.

  “Yes. I left it with the guard at the gate. Apparently, he grew up in a family that bred donkeys so he was only too happy to look after Beeny.”

  Nessa laughed. “Good old Beeny! I didn’t think of him as a mode of transportation when I headed out. He must be a hundred years old by now!”

  Layden grinned. “Almost. But he still rides pretty fast.”

  “Even with a big, strapping man like you on his back?” Elise asked.

  Was that flirtation in her voice?

  Nessa shrugged off her annoyance. Flirting was second nature to Elise.

  Layden nodded at Elise. “Yep. Beeny likes to get places fast so that he can spend more time sleeping in new locations. Anyway, I’m going to finish up the last of the sweeping and then come with you to fetch my satchel.”

  Nessa frowned. “Are you certain? I feel so bad for making you spend your evening in Nightport doing my chores.”

  “I’m utterly sure. Sweeping isn’t so bad. The good company, and even better brandy, made it child’s play,” he said.

  “Well, when we go back to Miller Street, you can at least point out roughly where you apprenticed. Then we can stop for a quick drink and a sweet tart at one of the pubs on the way to the gates. Journeying on a full stomach is easier,” Elise suggested.

  “Aye, I won’t say no to that, milad… I mean… ah, you know what I mean.”

  As they all laughed, Nessa ached at how Elise’s charming laugh and twinkling eyes made her want to kiss her.

  * * *

  With his satchel over his shoulder, and a belly full of tart and brandy, Layden was leading the way to the gate at the bottom of Core Street. Nessa had enjoyed having him with her tonight. But a part of her, a betraying and confusing part, wanted him to leave so that she could have Elise to herself.

  At the gate, Layden put down his satchel. “Ah, this thing only weighs half as much now that I’ve has dropped off all the scented oil and dried fruit from your mother.”

  He enveloped Nessa in a close hug. So close that she could smell him as clearly as when they were kids play-wrestling in the fields. He smelled of herbs, sunshine, and the tiniest hint of sweat. Only the herb smell that came with his trade reminded Nessa that he was a grown man, not the boy she used to chase through wheat fields.

  Now Nessa regretted that any part of her had been glad to see him go. A stinging ache of homesickness filled her chest as unshed tears blurred her vision.

  Damn that brandy.

  She pushed him away before she became too maudlin. “Hurry up and go or Isobel will come and fetch you. Something which would probably end up with me getting killed by her sharp tongue.”

  He scowled at her. “What’s with the tone? Has knowing her motives for disliking you changed nothing?”

  Nessa shrugged. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Elise taking a studiously slow sip from the bottle. When had she grabbed the brandy bottle?

  Switching her focus back to Layden, Nessa replied, “I simply find it hard to believe that someone could be enamoured enough with me to cause such a strong response. That can’t be it.”

  Layden was still scowling at her. “Yes, it can. You find it hard to think that anyone could be enamoured with you, full stop. The few partners you have had were all but forced to fill out a form stating their intent to romance you. Including a copy to your parents, so they could open your eyes for you.”

  Nessa crossed her arms over her chest, the brandy in he
r blood making it a tricky manoeuvre. “You're exaggerating. Now, say goodbye to Elise and be on your way.”

  His serious look changed into a grin. “Aye, Mother.”

  The grin vanished as he looked over at Elise. He shuffled his feet. Nessa could guess what he was thinking. He and Elise had spent time making drunken small talk and singing awful songs most of the night. Still, they were new acquaintances and Layden was one of the two people in Nightport who knew of Elise’s high social status. So he did not shake her hand. He did not give her a friendly embrace. He didn't even give his customary, diffident bow.

  When it was clear that he was just going to stand there, shifting his weight and looking at Elise while swallowing thickly, Elise took charge. She stepped forward and gave him a one-armed hug, her other hand clutching the brandy bottle.

  Layden seemed about as comfortable as a mouse in a room full of cats. Clearly noticing that, Elise let go of him quickly. “That is enough of that. Go home before your wife strides in and gives Nessa the spanking of a lifetime.”

  The brandy allowed Layden to not be shocked at her saying something like that. Or perhaps he had gotten used to her way of speaking her mind, appropriate or not. He merely chortled and turned to leave. He waved over his shoulder as he walked out the gate and turned a corner. Probably looking for Beeny.

  Nessa missed him already.

  Light, chilly fingers brushed aside a couple of hairs which had fallen out of Nessa’s braid to tickle at her cheek. The movement soon became a caress, as soft as Elise's voice when she said, “Time to go, heartling. The night is not yet spent. Let us go have some fun before we fall into bed.”

  Nessa chewed her lower lip. “We should go home, have a bath, and get some sleep. We have to work tomorrow.”

  “Yes, I know. Nevertheless, you are sad and I am peckish. I should have had a tart, too, but I dislike when they mix figs and sunberries in them. Anyway, you being sad and me being hungry is no way to go to bed. We can sleep the day after tomorrow instead. That will be Worshipday, our first day off from our new jobs. Remember?”

  Nessa put her hands in her coat pockets. “I’m an apprentice. I’m not meant to get a day off.”

  “I understand that the custom is that tradesmen and their apprentices work full weeks. But the Brownlees wanted the day off, just like most people in Nightport. That means you are free, too.”

  “Having a free day seems wasteful,” Nessa muttered.

  On the farm, they had not cared what day it was. You worked every day, right up until sunset. Then it was time for food, drink, and fun with those near to you. However, she had heard of the free day at the end of the week that the cities had brought into use. Layden had told her that it was so that the factory workers would get some time out in the fresh air.

  Nessa watched Elise turn and squint down the street. They were too far down Core Street to see any of the stalls and booths. The gas in the streetlights was burning low, making it hard to pick out any details beyond the occasional late workers going home and one or two people daring to leave through the gate and travel the roads after dark.

  Nessa looked in the direction from whence they had come. A small cut-through, made up of a side road which went past the small tavern where they had stopped for a tart with Layden, then another cut-through over to the Brownlees’ workshop on Orgreave Street, and from there, a quick walk home to Miller Street.

  But Elise had been right, she was sad and didn’t want to go home and sleep.

  She looked in the other direction, up Core Street. She took a few tentative steps in the direction she knew she’d find noise, people, and fun. Then a few steps more. She could almost hear the music and the revellers now.

  Elise linked their arms and whispered in her ear. “Come on. Time to go have some fun, beautiful.”

  They walked on. Nessa still not sure if she shouldn’t simply go home. After all, they might not have to work on Worshipday, but they certainly had to tomorrow. Also, there was something she needed to deliberate on - the people asking about them back in Ground Hollow.

  “Maybe we should go find Hunter? We said we’d ask him to keep an eye and ear out for anyone looking of us,” Nessa pointed out.

  “I am certain he will do that without us asking him. He told you right away when Layden arrived and was enquiring about you, did he not? Furthermore, if you want to find Hunter tonight, he will be somewhere in the city centre, working. Probably in the busiest part of Core Street. We might run into him if we keep walking.”

  The evening was growing colder. Nessa linked their arms tighter so they walked closer to each other. “I suppose so. What does he do exactly?”

  “Last time I spoke to him outside our lodging house I asked exactly that. He said vaguely that he worked for the taverns, bars, and the gambling houses. Oh, and the brothels, too. You know what he is like. He avoided going into details because he likes to make himself sound more important than he is.”

  The lights were getting brighter now, and they saw the street’s first big tavern. It was painted a dark olive green, standing out in a row of buildings that were all drab grey stone or unassuming wood. It had a large, yellow sign which was framed by two lit torches. Nessa squinted up at it. Painted on the sign were a gruesome green face and two words in bold letters: Goblin’s Tavern.

  Elise clapped her hands. “Goblin’s Tavern! That sounds splendid. It must be a grand and famous tavern if it can afford such a big sign with lit torches. Not to mention painting the whole building. Nessa, we need to try it. There must be all kinds of interesting liquor in there. Probably food, too.”

  “Which will be awful. Look at this place. It looks rough. Any food served in there’ll probably poison us,” Nessa muttered.

  “It cannot be worse than the pies we get at our lodging house. Come on, beautiful.” She took Nessa’s hand and began walking towards the entrance to the tavern.

  Nessa knew she could just say no. Then they would go home. She could get some sleep, and the hangover wouldn't be too bad tomorrow. She might even get a good day’s work done without a brute of a headache. That was the sensible decision.

  Then she saw Elise’s small frame buzzing with energy and her full, perfect lips smiling in a way which spoke of mischief. If Elise was going into that tavern, that was where there would be an adventure tonight. That was where memories would be made.

  Nessa let herself be pulled along. She could work harder next week. She could worry about the people looking for them on her day off. The gods only knew how many days of work and worry she had clocked up, but the nights of risk-taking and adventure could be counted on one hand. Tonight, she was going to add another one.

  The wooden doors to the Goblin’s Tavern looked like they had been broken and mended too many times to count, the flaking green paint not helping their appearance. Elise pushed them open and strode in. Once inside, Nessa watched her look around, sizing the place up. She had a feeling that Elise was calculating where the optimal point of fun and safety met. Although, that might only be in her head. Perhaps Elise was picking out a lover to go home with tonight. There weren't many women in the tavern, Elise would have slim pickings.

  As Nessa’s jealous eyes scanned the crowd for someone that Elise might leave with, she caught an interesting sight. At a table in the corner, right under one of the room’s scarce gas lamps, sat a group of four, speaking and laughing heartily.

  They didn’t look all that rough, compared to everyone else. Having cleaner clothes and tidier hair than the people at the tables around them helped. The person who had caught Nessa’s interest was the tidiest with ebony hair like Elise’s but shorter. The two people to the person’s right looked male and the one to their left looked masculine but still clearly female. But this fourth person… Nessa could not make out their gender.

  Her curiosity made her move closer. She saw hair so black it was nearly blue, pale skin, and slanted eyes which were as black as the hair. A slight, waifish build melded with rough, handsome facial feat
ures. Nessa tried not to stare too obviously as she attempted to guess the person’s gender. Or if this was one of those people who was neither gender? Maybe even both genders? She had heard of them, of course, but there had been none in Ground Hollow.

  She checked herself. She was acting like the country lass she was. Staring at someone who was different? That was not who she wanted to be. Even if her intent hadn’t been negative.

  To her embarrassment, the striking fourth person caught her staring. Nessa felt her cheeks grow hot when they smiled in her direction. Suddenly she felt Elise’s hand on her lower back.

  “Looks like you have made a friend. Let us go over and introduce ourselves,” she said against Nessa’s ear. She was barely audible over the din of laughter, clinking glasses, and what sounded like a harpsichord being played somewhere in the back.

  Nessa followed Elise who was making a beeline for the corner table.

  The smell of alcohol and pipe smoke grew stronger as they walked further into the tavern. The walls were a gloomy olive colour with goblin faces contoured in white paint everywhere. Simple, cheap lamps burned low, and a fireplace roared as a brawny, bald man stoked it.

  One of the men at the table spotted them when they were almost at his side. “Good evenin’, ladies. Lookin’ for somewhere to sit? I’m Jac. This is Sanjero, Cai, an’ that’s Fyhre at the end. Won’t ye join us?”

  Nessa looked closer at Cai, her mystery person. She decided that a closer look didn’t give her any more information, neither did the name as it was used for both genders. She pushed her curiosity down. It didn’t matter what gender this person was. It mattered if they were a good person, who would be good company tonight.

  “Perhaps we shall. But only if you promise not to be annoying, boring, or spend the entire night trying to get under our metaphorical skirts,” Elise said with hands on hips.

  The man who had been pointed out as Sanjero gave a belly laugh. “Seein’ as we’re two monogamous couples, ye needn’t worry ‘bout any unwanted advances. The ‘boring’ or ‘annoying’ part on the other hand, well, that is subjective, innit?”