“Don’t forget, Norah,” Nanny called, her face suddenly solemn. “You scoff now. But you are the last of your family’s legacy. So, I mean it when I beg you to take care.”
Norah waved again, but as she made her way through their cottage’s front garden and out the gate into the busy street, she couldn’t help thinking.
She might be the last of her family’s legacy. But that hadn’t done much to serve her these ten long years, except get her family killed and their home burned to the ground.
No, Norah wasn’t looking for legacy. She was hungering instead for adventure.
Norah enjoyed her afternoon walk as she always did, admiring the shipyard and imagining setting sail for her family’s ancient homeland. But she wouldn’t go there straightaway, she decided,pausing to let a carriage cross the street in front of her, making sure to step far enough back so her skirts weren’t splashed by the gigantic wheels. First, she would have an adventure along the way.
She didn’t have much gold with which to afford an adventure–only what Nanny had snatched while escaping the fire with her. But she was a hard worker and could easily earn more money along the way, as could Nanny. Which was why, though she hadn’t told Nanny, she had wanted to run their errands today.
“Ah, good afternoon, Norah,” a man called as Norah made her way down the dock. He shook hands with the man he’d been speaking to before tipping his hat and making his way toward her.
“Hi, Mr. Coleson,” Norah said, grinning at the older man. His gray hair was unusually unruly today, but his eyes twinkled as merrily as ever. “I was wondering if you had been able to give our conversation any thought.”
“I have,” he said, rubbing his chin. “And I think I could probably find a ship for you. Now, I’m being choosy, mind you. I’m not about to send you off with some mercenary or privateer.”
Norah laughed. “A sentiment I appreciate most heartily.”
“Aye,” he said. “That aside, I do think I could probably find someone who would hire you and your aunt. There are a number of wealthy families that own their own boats, and they often prefer to hire servants specifically to cook and clean for them on the ship. But I’ll warn you,” his eyes narrowed slightly. “Working at sea wouldn’t be an easy life. Are you both ready for that? Once you’re on the ship, there’s no getting off.”
Norah’s heart pounded in her chest. “We’re both healthy and strong, and my aunt is exceptionally skilled in running a household.” So Nanny wasn’t really her aunt, but it was all part of convincing everyone around them that Norah was just another commoner, an act they’d been playing for the last tenyears.
Of course, Nanny had no idea Norah was asking about them finding jobs at sea either. But, Norah promised herself, she would convince Nanny to say yes.
She had to.
“Well, just make sure it’s what you both want,” the dockmaster said. “That said, I’ll keep my eye out and let you know if anyone asks.”
Norah thanked the dockmaster profusely before hurrying on her way, daydreaming as she did about all the adventures she was so close to calling her own. Well, their own.
If she and Nanny could find some genteel family to hire them to work on their family’s boat, they could travel all over the western coast. Then, perhaps, they could venture south or east. She would meet new people, and maybe fall in love a time or two before growing tired of it all and heading home to the land of her parents’ forefathers.
Norah amused herself in this way until she reached the end of the shipyard and was distracted by the whimpers of a small child.
“Norah? Norah?”
Norah looked around until she saw a little boy sitting on the ground at the edge of an alley. His eyes were red and his face tear-stained, and he was holding his right knee in both hands. He’d obviously fallen on it, as it was scratched in a dozen places and covered in smears of blood. Not a dangerous injury, but one that surely stung.
“Again, Vincent?” She knelt beside him. “You broke your arm only last week.”
Vincent’s big brown eyes filled with tears again. “I don’t try to get hurt. It just happens!”
Norah sighed but smiled. “Very well, but you know you can’t tell anyone, yes?”
Vincent nodded his curly little head enthusiastically.
Norah stood and looked around. She spotted a bucket of water sitting at the corner of the alley, just behind a smallvegetable garden edging a neat little cottage. The garden and cottage belonged to Vincent’s family. She was quite familiar with both, as Nanny and Vincent’s grandmother were friends. She fetched the bucket and lifted its ladle, filling it to the brim. Then she carried it back to Vincent. After cleaning the wound and making sure there wasn’t any dirt in it, Norah looked all around to make sure no one was watching. Then, as quickly as she could, she draped her cloak over his knee and, beneath the cloak, began running her fingers lightly over the wound.
She knew the moment that the skin was knitted back together because the little boy let out a sigh of relief. This meant she could remove the cloak, and he could stand.
“Take care now,” she said to the little boy, fondly ruffling his dark curls. “I’ll see you later.”
“Bye, Norah!” Vincent cried. “And thank you!”
Norah went on to make her purchases after that, trying to ignore the little niggling voice in the back of her conscience that warned her how angry Nanny would be if she knew Norah was using her gift in public. But Norah had been helping Vincent for years, as the little boy was unusually talented at the art of finding ways to injure himself. Besides, he knew better than to tell anyone.
She hoped.
