The Button Girl

by Sally Apokedak

They didn't like birthmarks on the mountain? Repentance didn't want to ask. She was happy the attendant had quit scrubbing her neck raw and didn't want to set her off again. A tremor went through her, though, at the thought of how ignorant she was of the ways of the mountain. Birthmark blemishes and skim wagons and ice cities. Everything was strange and dangerous.

  "You're trembling, poor child," the attendant said. "I'll tell you what I tell every new girl what gets off the slave wagon all big-eyed and shaking. Work hard. Obey your master. You'll be fine as a sunny day in Harthill Square."

  Repentance remembered the three bodies swaying on the frame not fifty feet outside the building. "And don't run away, right?"

  "What's that?"

  "Work hard, obey your master, and don't run away."

  "Oh well, that goes without mention. Don't never run away. It's the swing frame for the runners."

  Suddenly Repentance was filled with an urge to run. Suddenly she realized it was not the fog that she'd been choking on down in the village. It was the fact that she was owned by the overlords. She could never be content under their rule, whether she was in the swampy village or on a sunny farm. She was going to have to run one day.

  She'd found a way out of the swamp and one day she'd find a way out of the ice city. One day she'd live in a sunny meadow with no fog and no overlord rulers.

  And no dead boys.

  After the bath, she put on a clean flannel nightdress and followed the attendant to a small cell with ice walls a foot thick. The floor was covered in the same heat-producing carpet she'd seen in the rest of the building. Against one wall was a small cot and in the opposite corner, a waste stool. No windows and just the one door.

  The attendant left, locking the door behind her, and leaving her in pitch darkness.

  Repentance curled up on the cot and pulled the thin, warm blanket around her.

  Maybe she wouldn't have to run away. Maybe, by the will of Providence, a kind master would purchase her and she could forget that she was owned and living under the threat of the swing frame. She might get a job on the mountain tending horses or goats. So far she'd met three slaves. Two took care of horses, and one gave baths to other slaves. Those jobs didn't seem so horrid.

  She'd made the right decision when she'd chosen not to button with Sober.

  She would miss her parents and Comfort and the little boys—she missed them already. Missing them made a gaping hole inside her. She crossed her arms over her chest and pressed as hard as she could, trying to squeeze out the emptiness, but it didn't help.

  All alone in her dark cell she found no distractions from the fears and no strength to hold her tears back. She broke down—rocking herself and sobbing and wishing for her mother. But she had no mother to hum and to hush and to promise that Providence would make it all turn out right in the end.

  Later, after the sobbing had slowed into heavy, lip-trembling sighs, she dried her face on her blanket. She felt better. No, she felt empty, not better. But now that she had the cry out of her system, she would get better.

  In the pocket of her nightdress she found her three gray buttons and worked them around in her fingers so they clicked against each other. They almost sounded like water dripping from trees. Click, click, click.

  She had done the right thing. Click. She would get a good master. Click. She'd had no choice. She'd done the right thing. Click, click, click. She'd get a good master.

  Somewhere in the back of her mind she heard a little voice say, "No, Repentance, repeating a thing over and over does not make it so."

  Her windowless cell was as dark as ever when a rattle at the door woke her. A slave boy entered with a bowl of thin soup. Warm water, really, with half a potato in it. It tasted like muddy creek water, but she was too hungry to care. The boy left a lamp with her, so she could see to eat. The strange lamp had a clay base that looked like a bowl, and in the bowl was a cloth that shone with yellow light. She poked at the cloth with her spoon, expecting flames to shoot up from underneath. No, the cloth itself shone with light, and the base of the lamp was an ordinary bowl.

  She had seen something like this long ago. In the swamp. The day the overlords took Tribulation. She was still examining the lighted cloth when an old slave woman, her brown face as wrinkled as a dried pear, came for her.

  "Come. Time to dress."

  She was given another bath, scrubbed with sweet soap, and after that lathered with buttery balm that smelled of mangoes and melons. For a moment, as the old attendant massaged the balm into her arms and legs, Repentance relaxed and dreamed that the woman was her old-mother—her mother's mother who was always gentle, not her father's mother who was prone to crankiness and impatience. She dreamed that her old-mother was washing and dressing her, preparing her to be guest of honor at a grand feast.

  The slave dried and brushed her thick hair until it shown then piled it up on her head with ringlets dripping down. "Interesting color," she said. "When it's clean and brushed it's almost more like overlord hair than lowborn."

  The old woman stripped her of the towel she was wrapped in and draped a robe of heavy, maroon velvet around her. Repentance ran her hands down the cloth. She'd never felt anything so soft. Instead of buttons, the robe had strings set at regular intervals. The old woman moved from top to bottom, tying the robe, but leaving gaps so skin could peek through and the smell of body lotion could escape.

  "Beautiful," she declared when she was done. "You'll go for the refreshment of royalty I'll wager. I wouldn't be surprised if Lord Fawlin himself took you ... If he were able, I mean."

  Repentance shivered. "Lord Fawlin is still alive?"

  "You heard that he was ill? He rarely makes it to market anymore. Mayhap his nephew will buy you."

  "Lord Fawlin, the king? He's not dead?" Repentance couldn't believe it. She knew her history, and Lord Fawlin was the king who had enslaved her people two hundred and fifty years earlier. Surely he wasn't still alive.

  "No, he's not dead. Nearly died many years ago. Went down to the hot springs for a cure and came back in a deep sleep. Doctors could not wake him. But he come out of that dreamland of his own strength and by the grace of Providence, and he's lived all these years. Not much of a man, though, if you get my meaning. Not able to keep a button mate or a concubine. So say those what whisper about such things."

  "He's lived for two hundred and fifty years?" That must be why the overlords were able to keep the lowborns down, then. They had such long lives. There must be thousands of them. Tens of thousands.

  The woman grimaced. "Hold still. You're shaking your curls loose." She reached up to give Repentance's hair a tuck and a pat.

  The door of the bathing room burst open. "Merry, are you in here talking?" A tall overlord woman strode in, her long satin skirts swishing along behind her. "I might have known. We wait on the docks for her." She landed a slap on the old slave's face with such force that the woman crumpled to the ground.

  Repentance jerked as if she was the one who had been slapped. She reached to help, but the old woman, bowing before the overlord with her forehead to the ground, didn't see the hand Repentance offered.

  "Oh, do get out of here before I kick you," the overlord woman said. "You tempt me so when you snivel like that."

  The slave scrambled from the room.

  The overlord woman turned to Repentance, taking in her outstretched hand, then looking into her eyes. "If you offer help to a slave being disciplined you will receive the same fate." Her glance slid from her face, down her neck, and kept on going. Repentance blushed.

  "My name is Madam Cawrocc. I own you. You will obey me."

  Repentance nodded. So this was the way Providence answered her prayers for a kind owner. She wasn't surprised.

  "Yes, you'll do," the woman said. She moved close to Repentance. "You will not speak. You will drop your eyes out of respect for the buyers. You will hold your chin down. And that blush of yours will do nicely. It makes you look quite innocent and alluring."

&nbs
p; She opened the top tie of Repentance's robe and retied it so more skin showed. Then she pushed her over to the counter on the reflecting wall and spritzed her neck and into the top of her robe with water laced with golden dust. After looking Repentance over one more time, she spit on her fingers and smoothed a stray curl into place.

  Repentance trembled. There was still the market. Someone would buy her. Surely. She would be respectful to the buyers as Madam Cawrocc had instructed. She would find a woman with kind eyes who needed a nanny for a rosy-cheeked baby. Or maybe a rich old woman who needed a companion to go with her on trips to foreign lands.

  "Overlords will line up to pay over their beads for a turn in your bed," Woeful had said. She looked into the reflecting glass and felt like retching. Please, Providence. A nice old woman in need of a traveling companion.

  Squeeze his muscles, check his teeth,

  lift her skirts and look beneath.

  Try his ear, test her eye,

  come on boys, we've a slave to buy!

  ~A slave dock ditty, from Mountain Lore and Folk Music

  Chapter 7

  Repentance stepped from the building. Thank Providence, the bodies were gone. The square was flooded with sunshine and overlords, but no dead slave boys. Several living overlord boys played skipball beneath the empty hanging frame.

  Keeping her head down and her eyes half closed against the glare of the morning, she followed Madam Cawrocc onto a wide, covered porch. Several slaves were there ahead of her, standing with their backs against posts. Their hands were lashed to the posts, and packets of parchment hung on hooks above their heads.

  Sober was there. His glossy curls combed back, away from his face. He was shirtless, but he had his button scarf wrapped around his neck.

  Next to him, a girl was staked. She wasn't dressed in a velvet robe. She wore a gold shirt and brown britches with sturdy boots made of leather and sheepskin. There was nothing pretty about the girl. Nothing ugly, either. She was just a girl, unremarkable in every way. When Repentance saw her, a stab of fear ran through her. That girl was going to be her downfall. That girl wasn't meant for the refreshment of royalty. That plain girl would get the job as nanny for the tired mother, or companion for the rich old woman.

  Repentance scanned the rest of the slaves. Seven boys, all younger than Sober from the looks of them, stood in long pants, chests bare in the chilly mountain air. Of the nine girls, only one other was richly robed, as Repentance was. The other eight wore working clothes and braids.

  Madam Cawrocc handed Repentance over to the dockmaster. "Up front, with this one," she said to him. "Let the poor men wish and the rich men bid."

  The dockmaster staked Repentance a couple of posts away from Sober, who was also in the front row. His swollen face had gone down a little, but he still had a purple bruise covering one cheekbone. Guilt flooded over her. For all her fancy dress and sweetly-lotioned skin, she felt as dirty as a pig on slaughtering day.

  Sober caught her looking and he nodded as if to say, Yes, Repentance it is your fault. Take a good look at your handiwork.

  The sun climbed slowly as buyers came and buyers went. The men buyers strode right up to poke and prod the other girls—to look at teeth and peek into clothing. The women buyers stood to the side and let their brothers or male cousins or servants check the merchandise over. But no one poked at Repentance. With her they were almost shy.

  Finally, one man approached, bent close to look at her face. Then he studied her hair and lifted her chin so he could look into her eyes.

  She looked back, into the pale overlord eyes, this particular pair, light green and full of lechery.

  Her knees went squishy.

  "My good, great dragon guano!" the man exclaimed. "I'll be hanged for a runner if your eyes aren't golden. I've never seen such a remarkable color." He shook his head in amazement. He smiled at Repentance.

  She didn't smile back. She trained her eyes on one knee of his tan, suede breeches and stood perfectly still, afraid to move. Afraid to breathe.

  "And your hair!" He curled a bit of it around one finger. "It's delicious. Such a lovely color. I could almost pretend I was in bed with an overlord woman."

  Madam Cawrocc, leaving a customer on the other side of the slave dock, came swiftly, her skirts sweeping the icy deck. "Lord Carrull, I'm so glad to see you today. How is the last girl working for you?"

  Glancing over, Repentance found Sober looking her way with a disgusted expression on his face. She hung her head, her cheeks burning.

  The overlord man bowed to Madam Cawrocc. "There's not a thing wrong with the last girl, Mertina. Not one little thing. But I've been thinking lately of giving her to my brother-in-law and buying another for myself—I'm hankering for something new."

  "Good plan," Madam Cawrocc said. "Let me show you some nice girls over this way." She took his elbow to steer him toward some of the "britches and braids" girls.

  He pulled back. "But I like this girl, Mertina."

  Madam Cawrocc laughed. "And well you should. You have good taste, and no one can tell me different. However ... " She leaned close. "She's quite out of your price range, my lord," she said quietly. "I fear that few outside of the prince himself will be able to afford this treat."

  The man gave an embarrassed giggle. "Oh, yes, I see. I had no idea. Her coloring makes her worth so much, no doubt."

  Madam Cawrocc nodded, as she led him away.

  Repentance blew out the breath she was holding. But she barely had time to take another breath before she was confronted with another potential buyer.

  An enclosed skim carriage pulled up in front of the dock. A woman disembarked and approached. She took Repentance's parchment packet down and flipped through it. "A sister in her fourteenth year? Is she as pretty as you?"

  Repentance dropped her gaze and said nothing.

  The woman leaned in. "When I ask you a question, you answer."

  "I don't know how to address an overlord lady," Repentance said.

  "Look at me."

  She was beautiful. Creamy skin, pale blue eyes, and silver hair. She smiled displaying a row of straight, white teeth.

  "I am no lady," she said. "You are to call me Jadin. That's my name. And you are to answer when I ask a question."

  Repentance nodded.

  "Is your sister pretty?"

  Repentance thought of Comfort, rosy–cheeked and with a constant sparkle dancing in her merry brown eyes. "Not pretty, I'm afraid," she said, without really knowing why she lied. She merely felt a need to protect Comfort from this woman who showed too much interest in pretty slave girls. "An unfortunate birthmark covers half her face."

  The woman gave a soft chuckle. "This once, I will let that go. Once, you lie to me and live. Once, because I admire your bravery. A second time and I will think you are stupid and obstinate rather than brave."

  She waved the parchment she held. "I have a sketch right here. I cannot easily tell if she is pretty or not, but I can see that she has no birthmark. So then, I assume she is pretty, since you felt the need to lie to make her ugly. That means you have one pretty sister and ... "She paused, looking at the papers again " ... two little brothers. Hmm. Sometimes little boys are wanted. If not, I can always trade them."

  Repentance gaped in horror.

  Jadin stood back, studying Repentance.

  She nodded.

  Stepping closer, she examined Repentance's face and looked into her mouth.

  Madam Cawrocc swished over. "Jadin! Is she not what I promised?" She tapped the parchment Jadin held. "And this one has a sister."

  "Maybe," Jadin said noncommittally.

  "She's beautiful! She's perfect!"

  "She's alright."

  "Alright?" Madam Cawrocc sounded shocked. She began untying Repentance's robe.

  Repentance shook her head and tried to back away but the post to which she was tied gave her no room to maneuver.

  Madam Cawrocc paid no attention, her hands following Repentance as she m
oved. "She's worth every bit of 25,000 beads, Jadin, and you know it. There's not a blemish on her entire body." She worked her way down the robe, undoing more and more of the little ties. When she had untied half of them, she pushed the robe back. It slipped down, stopping at the place where Repentance's hands were tied behind her. She stood naked from the waist up before Providence and all the world.

  Repentance squealed and hunched her shoulders forward trying to hide herself.

  Madam Cawrocc scowled at her. "Stand up straight, girl. How can anyone see your beauty if you slouch over?"

  In horror Repentance saw Sober staring. A second later, he looked up at her face, his cheeks flaming, and then he mercifully turned away.

  From across the dock Lord Carrull stared, a huge smile plastered across his lecherous face. A buzz of sound and movement penetrated her senses. People seemed to be drawing toward her. Three boys in the square stopped their skipball game and approached the dock.

  Jadin laughed. "Look at her blush."

  "Yes, quite fetching, isn't it? She's obviously never serviced anyone before. The prince will be pleased, don't you think?"

  Jadin reached behind Repentance and took hold of the robe. "What I think, is that we need to cover the poor girl up." She hung the robe around Repentance's shoulders and tied the first few ties so it would stay up. "Yes, I'll take her," Jadin said. "Have her sent to me at the Hot Springs healing house."

  Repentance gasped.

  Jadin glanced over toward the other robed girl. "Two beautiful girls failing at the button ceremonies. Providence smiled on you today, eh, Cawrocc?" She crossed over to inspect the other girl.

  Madam Cawrocc finished tying Repentance's robe. "I made a tidy sale," she said. "A tidy sale." She gave Repentance a dirty look. "No thanks to you, what with your whining and hunching over like a deformed troll."

  "I'm to go back down to Hot Springs?" Repentance asked.

  Madame Cawrocc either didn't hear or chose not to answer. She headed off to convince Jadin of the other girl's worth.