Making a Tinderbox (The Tinderbox Tales Book 1)

by Emma Sterner-Radley

  While he deliberated, Nessa was coming to a conclusion of her own. If she wanted to give up on this new life and go back to simple, predictable Ground Hollow, she should have one last big Nightport adventure. A proper farewell.

  “I want to see the White Raven.”

  Hunter lifted the brim of his hat to see her better. “Pardon?”

  “I want to go to the White Raven. I want to play cards all night and maybe watch some fighters beat the blood out of each other. And, of course, I want to get so drunk out of my skull that there is no room for my thoughts in there anymore.”

  “I don’t reckon that’s a good idea,” Hunter said, worry bringing out his real accent.

  “Well, I do. Why are you complaining, anyway? Don’t you get a handful of coin if you bring me there? Surely you are on the payroll of the White Raven.”

  “No, I’m ‘fraid not. The Scarlet Crow and the White Raven figured out that they don’t need anyone to drum up customers no more.” His voice sounded different without the midlands pretence, kinder and warmer.

  Not that this calmed Nessa. She stomped her foot, like a child. “I don’t care! I want to go there, with or without you.”

  Hunter, frowning, held up his hands. “Fine. I'll take ye there. Just go easy, let me set ye up somewhere safe. And let me order ye some sandwiches? You eat cheese and shroom sandwiches, right? Nightport speciality, y’know. Ye’ll feel better with a full belly.”

  “No. Yes. Whatever, mother. Let’s go,” she muttered.

  He looked appeased. “Does Elise know where you are?” he asked, back in his attempt at a Highmere accent. He started ambling down the street. Nessa followed this strange man in blue.

  “No. But I don't think she much cares.”

  He clasped his hands behind his back. “Ah, so this mood is down to a lover’s quarrel?”

  “There is no mood. Just a change of direction. After tonight, I’m leaving. I’ve realised that I am not Nightport material.”

  Hunter’s eyebrows rose up his forehead. “Really? You seemed so enamoured with the city and exceedingly happy to be out of your little pocket of a village! And what about your future as a glassblower?”

  Nessa chuckled wryly, looking up at the sky. It was perfectly cloudless with the beautiful beginnings of a rosy sunset. How awful. “What’s the point in all of that?”

  Hunter caught her gaze and held it as they walked on. “What do you mean? I thought it was your dream?”

  “It was. Well, my number one dream was always escape. Leaving Ground Hollow for somewhere I could fit in. I thought that might be achievable, but deep down I wasn’t sure I’d ever take the step and actually leave. There would always have been a reason to stay just one more day, one more week. For my parents, for Layden, or for any other excuse I could conjure up. Then Elise swept in, took my hand and off we went. Easy as that. Like it was an everyday thing, like choosing between goat’s milk or cow’s milk.”

  Hunter adjusted his top hat. “That is an easy option. Cow’s milk if it’s available. Goat’s milk if it’s not. Or if you are saving your coin.”

  She glared at him, and he pinched his lips closed with his index finger and thumb, signifying that he would shut up.

  Nessa shoved her hands in her pockets. “My second dream was glassblowing. I suppose it was a secret one as I barely admitted it to myself. But I admitted it to her. She sort of drew it out of me. Then she…simply made it happen. We traipsed all over this foul-smelling city until she found me a glassblower who would apprentice me. She wouldn’t give up until I had everything I hadn’t dared to think I could achieve.”

  “She’s persistent. You have to give her that,” Hunter said.

  Nessa didn’t reply. She was too busy sorting her thoughts. Talking about this hurt, but she had to make him understand. Make herself understand.

  “Then my dreams… shifted. I still wanted to be in Nightport and I still wanted to be a glassblower. But something else became more important. She became more important. Waking up with her in the morning, eating my meals with her, hearing how her day went, you know? Trying to impress her was suddenly more important than anything else. But she’s… so beyond me. As angry as I am with her, I have to admit that. Elise is confident, beautiful, sophisticated, different, charming. I’m all dusty and damaged, and she is glimmering and bright like the sun. She doesn’t want me.”

  Hunter made a noise like a rusty gate. “Well, I wouldn’t say that.”

  “No. She doesn’t want me the way I want her. Whether she knows it or not, she just wants me as a conquest. As a diversion, I think. I don’t know. The argument we had made it all so confusing. I do know that she thinks we can be friends and casual lovers but it doesn’t work that way. Life is not a game. It’s serious, and she doesn’t see that. I can never be enough for her, not in the long run.”

  Nessa kicked a stone that had the audacity to be in her way. It was a little too big to kick, and it hurt even through her boot. The physical pain somehow soothed her.

  Hunter was throwing her quick glances. “How will you know that if you do not stay?”

  “I can’t stay here. Everything here reminds me of her. Everything here is hers. It’s immense, fascinating, and ever-changing. I’m not. I’m only Nessa Clay from Ground Hollow. If I stay I’ll be angry at everything and everyone all the time. Like I am now. Or I’ll shrink into nothingness, just be shy and not talk to anyone.”

  Hunter pulled at his earlobe. “Are you sure that is not your current mood talking? Should you not think this through?”

  Nessa kicked the ground again. This time there was no stone to take her wrath. “I don't know. I’m tired of thinking. If I have to think anymore I’ll punch something! I don't want to talk about this anymore. Or anything else for that matter. Everything is gods-cursed oxen shit.”

  He opened his mouth as if to ask further questions, but then settled for, “Ah, my first impression was right, then. You are in desperate need of distraction.”

  “Yes. Now let’s stop talking and just get there,” she snapped.

  They walked in silence along Nightport’s dusty streets. Hunter strutted in his usual peacock way while Nessa dragged her feet, worrying that no distraction would be strong enough to mute her dire thoughts. A beggar severely insulted her after she only gave him one copper, and she didn’t even flinch. Her limbs were heavy, and her stomach hurt.

  They passed a small tavern. Outside it stood a group of young people, mainly men. They were all powdered, rouged at the cheek, and had eyes lined with kohl. Their clothing was elegant but in bright colours and showing far too much skin to be considered proper. Pleasure sellers. They were so beautiful that they managed to distract Nessa from her gloom for a moment.

  Why did people buy such beauty? Surely it would be a bigger prize to try to win their affection and admiration. Or was it because the buyers couldn’t find a lover any other way? She tried to gauge the people who approached the pleasure sellers, but they all looked sane and healthy enough. Nessa would probably never have her questions answered. The pleasure sellers here were seen as a natural part of society, but they tended to keep to themselves. Nessa had learned that from Secilia Brownlee. She had proudly told Nessa that her father had been a pleasure seller, the best in the city in his day, apparently.

  Nessa’s shoulders slumped. This was all yet another sign of how foreign and confusing this city was to her. Back in Ground Hollow, there had been a young lady who was a pleasure seller. She had not stood on the street, but had customers come to her house. Usually they were men. It had always bothered Nessa that the townsfolk had whispered and giggled behind the woman's back. She had been seen as a necessary evil, fulfilling needs in a practical and fast way so that people could get back to work. However, Nessa had still heard people whisper ugly things like harlot behind her back. That had always struck Nessa as particularly unfair. It intimated that the pleasure seller was the one who could not get enough of bedplay, who wasn’t strong enough to resist the pull of
carnal needs. The truth was that she was simply trying to make a living, since her parents had lost their farm and her schooling had not gone very well. After all that, was being a harlot really a bad thing? Nessa wasn't sure. She wasn't sure of much right now.

  She stopped in her tracks for a moment. Perhaps things weren’t as simple back in Ground Hollow as she had always thought. She looked at a painted, barely grown lad flirting with an old man in front of her, and decided that things certainly weren’t simple here either. Did Nightport’s pleasure sellers enjoy their work? They were clearly respected and had other options to survive, unlike pleasure sellers in rural parts of Arclid. She sighed at her own ignorance and confusion.

  Fatigue washed over her. She wanted it all to crumble into dust. Or maybe she just wanted her feelings to crumble and vanish. She scuffed at the ground again, achieving nothing more than stirring up dust from the cobbles.

  She had come to Nightport because she wanted more than she could find in Ground Hollow. She wanted more than what was promised her there: early mornings and early nights and back-breaking work in between. The same faces every day. Quick rolls in the hay after too much ale. Then settling down with a partner and stagnating. She knew that wasn't fair — they probably didn't stagnate at all, but she would if she tried that life.

  Where in the name of all the gods do I fit in?

  Hunter must have noticed she had stopped because he turned back. He was next to her now, watching her look at the pretty pleasure sellers.

  “Ah, looks like you might have found your own distraction. Would you like me to enquire about the price?”

  Nessa jerked to attention. “No!”

  He smirked. “No, I suppose not. You do not want a professional. All you want is a pretty wild child who fights like a beast and speaks like a lady.”

  “She does not fight like a beast,” Nessa muttered. She knew that she should have argued with his assumption that Elise was what she wanted. But what would be the point? “Anyway, I don't stand a chance with that ‘pretty wild child’ any more. She's furious with me.”

  “Oh, I am sure you could make amends. Arguments happen and then you make up. I prescribe some flowers, some sweet words, and that charming, broad smile of yours,” he said confidently.

  Nessa swallowed the lump in her throat. “The flowers and the smile I can manage. But I have no idea what words might help. Or if they would even reach her. We are so different and I think we speak at cross purposes most of the time. I don't care right now. I just want some distraction. Something dark. Something primal. Somewhere where she won’t come looking for me.”

  “And you believe that is the White Raven?”

  Nessa shrugged. “It's worth a shot.”

  He still looked sceptical. “As you wish. I was on my way to do some rounding up of customers for the Goblin’s Tavern tonight, so I would prefer if we took a shortcut to save some time?”

  “Sure. Doesn’t matter to me.”

  “Splendid. Follow me,” he said, picking up the pace.

  Nessa followed dutifully, never one to keep anyone from their work. Hunter made a swift turn and began walking down a dark alley.

  Nessa squinted into the passageway. As far as she could make out, it contained nothing but bricked-up windows flanking the dark emptiness, with a mangy-looking rat running towards them for good measure. And yet, Hunter strutted down it as if taking a stroll in a lovely park. She followed, wishing she was still out on the street. There might be drunkards and beggars out there, but at least she could see where she was putting her feet. Without warning, Hunter stopped and performed a move she couldn’t quite make out. Whatever he did illuminated the alley with a shaft of light, bringing the noise of chatter, music, and clinking glasses with it. It all came from a small door that Hunter somehow managed to locate in the thick darkness.

  “How in the names of all the gods did you manage to find that?” Nessa whispered as she cast glances around the darkness. She wasn't sure why she was whispering.

  Hunter closed the door again, banishing the only source of light. That was when Nessa saw what was right at eye level. How had she missed it? Next to the door was a white, strangely luminescent picture of a bird. It was a little bigger than a coin and shone in the darkness as if it had been lit by flame or gas. But looking closer, it was only painted on the stone wall.

  Nessa stared at it. “What lights it up? Some sort of magic?”

  Hunter sniggered. It annoyed Nessa more than it should.

  “No, little country mouse. You know there is no such thing as magic. It lights up thanks to a chemical compound in the paint. It was created by the landlord’s wife who happens to be Nightport’s finest chemical expert. She also makes some of the… less than legal powders you can purchase inside. I suggest you do not try any of them. They will alter your mind for the night, and if you are not careful, you will crave that alteration every night.”

  Nessa crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m not the type to use powders.”

  She thought she caught him smirking in the darkness. “No, I suppose that is true, Miss Clay. Anyway, welcome to the backdoor to the White Raven. I can proudly say that very few know about this entrance.”

  He opened the door again, and Nessa was blinded by the light. She blinked a few times until her eyes adjusted. Then it was her ears’ turn to suffer, as a wall of sound hit her. She could hear a band playing over the din of countless voices.

  Wait. Was that someone screaming? No, must have been a woman with a shrieking laugh. Right?

  She took a step forward, but pulled back again. “So, are there really white ravens in there? Do they actually exist?” she squeaked.

  Now she saw Hunter smile, his chalk-white teeth gleaming in the light. It was a kind, reassuring smile. “Yes, there are three of them in there. Living in a large cage behind the bar, all in love, all mating in a happy three-bird relationship. Now stop stalling. Come on, I will make sure you are safe.”

  He opened the door wider and stepped in. Nessa followed him one hesitant step at a time.

  Nessa blinked repeatedly, still getting used to the light, even if it was quite dim. Only a few sconces on the walls illuminated the scrubbed white walls that Jac had mentioned. Everything else was coloured in mottled reds and faded blacks. The place was uncomfortably cramped. It was with great difficulty that the waitress moved between the tightly packed tables. As Nessa’s eyes became used to the low light, she could make out what was happening in this loud room.

  Some people at the tables were simply drinking, chatting, smoking pipes, and by the looks of it, flirting. Others were looking around furtively as they rubbed something against their gums. Most of them, however, seemed to be occupied with card games. Quite a few tables played only with a deck, while others had stacks of coin they pushed to the middle of the table as they placed their bets. Nessa saw one table where three women had a kind of honeycomb-like, wooden structure on the table. They took turns placing their playing cards into it in an intricate pattern. She squinted at it through the smoke in the room, trying to decipher the pattern of their game but failed. Just as she was about to ask Hunter what it was they were playing, she was distracted by the music changing to include singing.

  Turning to her side, Nessa spotted a singer holding court on a small stage. Quite a few people got up from their tables to stand and gaze reverentially at her. Nessa doubted it was because the singer had a particularly unique voice; in fact, Nessa couldn't help but think that Elise sang better. It was her beauty. Even at a distance, Nessa could see liquid movements, generous curves, and gleaming skin so richly dark brown it appeared black. All this in a tightly fitted, blood-red dress accompanied by a black shawl, which didn't seem to cover as much as drape over her body. Nessa considered getting closer to get a view of the woman's face, but decided against it. She didn't want to be obviously ogling the singer. With a nauseous feeling in the pit of her stomach, she realised that Elise would have been fascinated by this woman.

  T
he singer played to her crowd of adoring listeners. The band behind her clearly pouring their hearts and souls into the music. The song was slow, dark, and sensual in a way which felt wrong to Nessa. The lyrics were about a man who cheated at cards all night and stole from his richer playing companions when the night became morning. Nessa picked up a few words describing what they did to the card sharp when he was found with his stolen goods.

  The bloodiness of the description made Nessa scrunch up her nose. The seductive tone in the singer's voice as she sang about the gore and blood made it so much worse. She looked around and saw people grinning and nodding along to the music. Some even miming along to words about knives being plunged into the man’s private parts. Nessa swallowed her disgust and tried to tune the lyrics out. Leaving the slow backbeat, the teasing melody of the violins, and the deep tones of the bass to be the background to her walk across the floor of the White Raven.

  There was a bar running all along the short end of the room. Behind it stood a handful of men and women, all busy pouring concoctions into glasses or surreptitiously selling little vials. Nessa saw a man walk past her with one of the vials he had just purchased. It was filled with a light grey powder. He took some out and brushed it against his gums. Behind the busy barkeeps was a cage. Even at this distance, Nessa could see the flutter of white wings in there.

  She looked to her side, making sure that Hunter was still with her. He smiled at her and pointed to an archway into a pitch-black adjoining room. Next to the archway, on the eerily white wall, the words “FIGHT ROOM” were written in black. There was a chalkboard underneath which had what looked like two names and a time on it.

  She swallowed and nodded to him, trying to look unmoved. In truth, the idea of seeing an arranged fight made her skin crawl.

  The White Raven smelled of stale alcohol, something chemical and pipe smoke. All mingled with the sweat and perfumes of the big crowd. Above it was a permeating stink of iron.

  Is that blood? No, can’t be. Must be part of the chemical smell that those powders leave when they get poured into the vials. Yes, that’s it. Calm down, Nessa.