Maureen leaned into her mother, eyes wet.
“I do not like the idea of you staying behind on your own,” I said.
“I agree,” added Mischa. “You cannot manage it?”
“We’re about to be walking around. This is a large city. I can barely stand,” Helena said, her head resting against her daughter. “Keep an eye on Maureen,” she said, looking from me to Mischa.
Zinnia agreed that Helena should stay in the dormitory and rest. She and three of her women herded the remaining eight of us through yet more rock corridors and back outside the bluffs, into the spring sunlight that shed its rays over the sprawl of Pikestully. Sets of stone steps led up to each individual building built into the bluffs. We found the closest set and made our way down.
As we walked through the bustling streets, we paired off, Mischa and Maureen linked arm in arm, Bronwyn and Eefa, Quinn and River. I sidled up to Catrin, her delicate beauty exposing her puzzlement and fear.
“I did not know about any magic,” I said, placing a hand under her elbow.
She looked up at me. “Really? You had no inkling of any kind of… powers?”
“If I had them, would we be here? I would have drawn down the doors of that Agnes temple on their heads.”
Catrin smiled. Then a crease appeared between her brows. “What occupation will I be given? I— I am ashamed. I have never labored. I have no skill or trade.”
I squeezed her elbow. “We will figure something out. Do not fret just yet. Perhaps I can convince my new husband not to relegate us all to the kitchens.”
“Their king is demented,” she said, voice lowered. “Perhaps he will not make you marry the captain. He seems to swing from emotion to emotion. Maybe he will forget this.” She hesitated. “Are you upset …about the marriage?”
I looked down the sloping street we walked, taking in stall after stall of merchants, the doors of shops flung open, Tintarians walking up and down the street, in and out of the businesses. It was not unlike an Ecclestonian marketplace, but it was livelier, citizens haggling, bickering, shouting and laughing, minstrels with harps, dulcimers, mandolins and fiddles on every street corner. The sea’s brine floated over the city. Fishmongers hollered their stock’s prices over the crush of people. The pungent smell of fresh fish was foreign to me, but the cooking fish, over open fires, stuffed with garlic and shallots, was mouthwatering. I sighed, “I suppose I should be more upset than I am. Though I do not think him … an unworthy man. He is not vile. But this is not a true marriage, Catrin. This is a discipline his king knows, for some reason, will be as a millstone around his neck. But am I upset? I do not know. We are alive. Maybe that is enough.”
“Edie,” came Quinn’s voice behind us. She and River drew in step with us. “We just spoke to Zinnia. The captain—” she hesitated, eyes on my face at the mention of him. “The captain has allotted an equal amount of coin for each of us. Zinnia says it is rather generous. But there are no extraneous funds. And River needs medicine.”
“For my seizures,” River added. “Can you ask the captain, before I have my own income, to perhaps front the coin for the medicine and then I can—”
“There is no need,” I answered. I decided I would avoid as much interaction with my betrothed as I could, especially interaction that put us further in his debt. “I think I may have a solution. Keep your eyes peeled for an apothecary.”
Quinn looked confused and River grateful.
When we entered an enormous tailor’s shop, stocked with hundreds of bolts of cloth, a dozen workers hunched over worktables, Mischa pulled me away from Catrin. “What were Quinn and River asking you about?”
“River needs medicine for her seizures. We will have to earn our own wages and pay for our own lightleaf and oils,” I answered, my mouth pulled to one side. “If that is alright with you.”
“I am not a selfish ass, Edie,” said Mischa, then softened. “I am sorry. Of course, I want River to have her herbs or whatever it is. I just—” she stopped herself and exhaled. “I just want to stop feeling. I have been feeling everything for weeks. I want a little numbness.”
“So do I.”
23. Medicine
We were outfitted each with a shawl, a nightgown, a leather half-apron, a sealskin cloak, a cotton cloak, several pairs of socks of varying thickness, a second pair of shifts and stays and four dresses, all similar cuts to the black cotton ones we had been given that morning. Two were thicker in material, meant for fall and winter, another was a shortsleeved version of our black cotton, meant for spring days and the fourth dress was sleeveless and thin, meant for summer heat. We were granted the privilege of choosing colors. While our choices were more muted hues, there was plenty to choose from. I chose shades of emerald, cyan and teal green for nearly everything except the summer dress. That one was a celadon color, like green-glazed pottery.
“Mother likes rose. And dark red,” Maureen told Zinnia.
Next, Zinnia took us to a cobbler. We were measured for winter boots that would come midway to our knees, summer boots that laced up to the ankle and a flat pair of slippers that were, while not dancing slippers for a grand lady, rather fetching for shoes meant to be worn inside by a commoner.
“Your captain was magnanimous,” whispered Catrin.
I did not correct her use of the word ‘your,’ because she was right. We were given much paid for by him. I even guessed that for Bronwyn and Eefa, this was more clothes than they had ever owned.
“Magnanimous but likely now insolvent,” intoned Mischa. “How much does a soldier really earn? Even a prized one such as these Procurers?”
A pang of discomfort twigged inside me.
Zinnia explained that all of our items would be delivered at the Shark’s Keep soon. Then she took us to an apothecary and explained that we were free to loiter and look and she went to place an order for chew sticks, a number so great it must have been meant for the keep’s stores.
