by Janean Worth
Chapter Eleven
Kara leaned against her mother’s warm side as they both lay in front of the cozy fire that was lit in the stone fireplace. It was warm in front of the fire, but the heat often didn’t reach into the sleeping rooms of their small cabin, so, on the coldest nights of the season, they often brought their threadbare blankets and worn pillows out to lay upon the comfortable braided rag rug that lay in front of the fireplace.
Kara enjoyed these infrequent, quiet times, for they were often the highlight of her week. She didn’t often get to spend time with her mother, because her mother’s duties at the House kept her away far more than they should have, so times like these were even more special and precious to Kara than she’d ever let her mother know.
She was deeply aware that her mother felt guilty for spending so much time away, and for the fact that Kara, too, had to work to earn money, and Kara didn’t want to heap any more guilt upon her mother’s head. If she’d known how lonely Kara was, or how Kara longed for her mother’s company – for any companionship, really - then her mother would have been even more miserable. There was nothing that her mother could do that would make it possible to spend more time at home with Kara, for once the Sovereign decreed that a person must work in the House, that was where they worked until he released them from their duties. Even if her mother was brave, or foolish, enough to try to stop working there without his permission, no one else in GateWide would hire her to do a job, or sell her the goods and food that they needed to survive, for fear of risking the Sovereign’s displeasure.
Kara knew this, so, she said nothing about her loneliness, her hunger because of their lack of food, her desire to have a tutor to teach her things that she desperately wanted to know or even her wish at a chance to attend the tutored gatherings that sometimes were held in the market square.
She knew that there was no solution that her mother could provide, and so she kept her misery to herself, much as she was sure her mother did.
“Tell me something about Father again,” Kara asked as she lay next to her mother, enjoying the flickering blaze of light and heat that emanated from the fireplace and the way that her mother’s fingers played lazily through her curls. Both relaxed her, but she was not yet ready to give into the peace of sleep. She wasn’t ready for these moments to end, for sleep would bring morning, and morning would mean the beginning of another harsh, hard, lonely day for Kara.
Her mother’s fingers paused in their stroking of Kara’s long hair, and for a moment, Kara wondered if she should perhaps refrain from asking for shared memories of her father, in case the memories of him made her mother sad. It had not been that very long ago that the Captain of the Enforcers had come to their door and informed them that her father had died while out on an assignment for the Sovereign. A complete cycle of seasons had passed, but Kara could still remember the moment with horrible clarity, as if it had happened only that very day and all of the days since had only been a nightmarish lull, a few frozen moments in time.
Her mother’s fingers resumed their absent stroking, and Kara held her breath in anticipation. Which memory would her mother share this time? Would it be some story about his extreme intelligence? Or a tale about his bravery? Or his kindness?
Her father had been an extraordinary man, and Kara was glad that she had the fortune of being his daughter, even though he had left them way too soon. She missed him with a deep aching fierceness that she constantly had to shove down inside herself, for if she dwelled on the feeling too long, she would become despondent and her already hard life would only seem that much harder.
“Do you remember how things were before your father passed on?” her mother’s voice was gentle and calm, but Kara clearly heard the intertwined threads of wistfulness, longing and sadness that her words did not convey.
“Yes,” Kara answered simply, not saying much so that her mother would go on sharing memories.
“Do you remember the wonderful days when your tutor would come and while he was helping with you with your lessons, I would bake treats for you and for your father when he returned home? Do you remember the days when neither of us had to toil so hard at another’s tasks? And do you remember our lovely home on the hill?”
Tears clogged Kara’s throat at her mother’s words. “Yes,” she choked out. “I remember.”
And she did remember. She remembered when her mother’s hands were the soft hands of a gentlewoman, not the cracked rough hands of a laborer that they were now. She remembered the joy she herself had taken in learning the lessons her tutor had taught, instead of learning by her own mistakes and from the rough slaps of correction that Leila Malmont administered if she did not perform her duties correctly now. And, more clearly than the rest, she remembered their family suppers together at the great table that sat in the dining room of their beautiful house on the hill.
All of that had gone once her father had passed on. Those things had been provided because of his position with the Sovereign, and the wonderful things that he had been able to make the Old Tech do for the Sovereign. And when her father was no longer available to provide those skills, the Sovereign had no real use for the man’s widow, other than as a laborer who did menial tasks of his choosing. And those menial tasks, of course, did not warrant the many benefits that had been provided to her father because of his work with the Old Tech.
Old Tech the words struck a pang of fear through Kara. She vaguely heard her mother’s voice as she shared more memories, but the fear that suddenly shot through Kara changed her focus and made her think of the forbidden thing that her mother had hidden beneath the loose floor board near the hearth, only feet away from where Kara lay now.
If the Sovereign knew about the Old Tech, and that her father had meant for them to have it and that they all had kept it a secret from him, they would most likely forfeit their lives.
Kara struggled to calm her pounding heart, pushing away the thoughts of what would happen if the Sovereign ever found out about their secret, and instead focused once more on her mother’s soothing voice.
Minutes passed, and soon, after listening to the shared memories, Kara was lulled into a sense of safety once more, and she found herself struggling to keep her eyes open.
Kara gasped and sat bolt upright, frightening a squeak from Jax as she jostled him as she awoke from the dream. It had been more like a memory. As her heart slowly stopped its pounding within her chest, Kara cuddled Jax closer and stroked his silky fur as she thought about the dream. She had once lain beside her mother before the fire, just as in the dream. And, as in the dream, there had been a forbidden secret hidden in their little cottage. A secret that Kara had brought with her which was, even now, hidden deep at the bottom of her bag.
Sighing, Kara held Jax close for another moment, enjoying the silky slide of his fur through her fingers as she stroked his thick coat. The movement calmed her, and also filled her with love for the tiny creature that was now her constant companion. She gave him one more pat then carefully tucked him into the warm spot that was left from her body as she wiggled off of the sleeping mat that she’d made of reeds. Covering him with her mother’s shawl, she scooted over to her bag and dug to the bottom, where she’d hidden the Old Tech.
Drawing it out, she unwrapped it from the soft length of worked leather that it had always been rolled in, and let its heavy weight drop into her palm for the first time.
She stroked the smooth surface, which was made of shiny glass that was paper-thin and so glossy that it glimmered with reflected light even in the dimness of the little cave.