LEGENDS: Fifteen Tales of Sword and Sorcery Read online

  ‘Sorry to hear of your father’s death, Adenine. And your brother-in-law’s death, Capacia,’ Jemely said.

  ‘Thank you. It happened a long time ago. And please excuse… well, I’ve not been out of bed for four days. So there might…’ Mother hesitated. ‘The smell…’

  ‘Say no more. My nose is so stuffed I couldn’t notice it anyways,’ Jemely said.

  But I was discontent. Mother continued the lie that I wasn’t her daughter, and seemed more concerned that she stunk like manure. Couldn’t she see how much she was hurting me? I fought back tears.

  ‘That’s kind of you,’ Mother replied. ‘And thank you for your help today.’

  ‘It’s nothin’. Well, best be getting started in the kitchen, then,’ Jemely said, and I heard her walk away.

  Still upset with Mother, I got out of bed, not wanting to be beside her anymore. As my toes touched the cold floor, I flinched. I stood, took one step, and then another, straightening my posture and raising my arms out in front of me. I searched for the first wall.

  ‘Count your steps, Adenine,’ Mother asked.

  I stopped. ‘Why?’

  ‘How many have you taken so far?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Why did she tolerate me? It would be easier for her if I wasn’t even alive. She could throw me out on the street or feed me to the forest wolves. Everyone would be better off.

  ‘If you know how many steps it takes to get from one place to another, you’ll never be lost.’

  Without sight, counting my steps was a way to measure distance. I was too dumb to think of something that clever.

  ‘And Adenine?’ she continued.

  ‘Yes, Cap…?’ I struggled to call her by her name. To me she was Mama.

  ‘Put your blindfold on. Never ever forget to wear it.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘So people know you are blind without having to see your scarred eyes.’

  I knew it. My eyes were ugly. Uncle Garrad once said I was prettier than any girl he’d ever met. But he’d lied about that, and he’d lied about loving me.

  The night before, I had gone to sleep with the blindfold on. It must still be on the bed, I thought, and I found it entangled amongst the bedclothes. I folded it on the horizontal and fastened the ends at the back of my head. Then I made my way back to the wall, taking Mother’s instruction and counting my steps. Five.

  Not only could I measure the distance between features of the house, but I could judge the angle of one straight surface against another. I turned to the right and guessed that if I walked straight, I would meet the green wardrobe. I took three steps forward, and my right hand found the grainy timber. I raised my left arm to the side and felt only air—the doorway.

  ‘Why don’t you go help Jemely?’

  ‘Yes, Capacia.’

  ‘Bring me some water, too, please.’

  ‘Yes.’ I turned to face the living room. Jemely rattled about in the kitchen, and the coals sizzled and popped in the hearth as she stoked the fire. More rustling noises were followed by the banging of pots. The kitchen area was to my right, so I followed the wall with my right hand, trailing it over rough stone brick. I discovered the kitchen counter.

  Seven steps, I concluded upon reaching the bench. Jemely was next to me, chopping at something with a knife, and I decided to pick up objects and identify them. The surface of the counter was at chest height, which meant I could reach quite easily. I recognised a spoon and a clove of garlic, which I sniffed. There were other straight, twisted, bowed, and spiny instruments that I couldn’t make out at all, and that frustrated me.

  ‘I’m heating up this leftover stew from last night. It’s tasteless. Did you make it?’ Jemely asked.

  I lowered my head. ‘No. Varago—’

  ‘Oh, that makes sense. My uncle couldn’t cook to save his life.’ She snorted. ‘Fetch the salt.’

  I paused. Varago had said that Jemely couldn’t catch my illness, but what if she did?

  ‘Well?’

  ‘Don’t I need to wash my hands first?’

  ‘It’s just salt. I’m boiling this dish anyway. Hurry up.’ She sounded irritated.

  ‘I don’t know where to find it.’

  Jemely groaned. ‘Pantry. And you best be payin’ attention to all this, Adenine. I got a life, you know.’

  The pantry was to the right of the kitchen bench. With my fingertips, I felt a rectangular wooden latch holding the door in place. I pulled down on a piece of rope and heard a click, followed by the long creak of door hinges. A warm burst of air fragranced the kitchen, carrying hints of thyme, rosemary, and other spices. Grabbing a shelf, I stood on my toes and handled various pots and bowls of different sizes.

  ‘Salt is in a bag,’ Jemely said irritably.

  I was taking too long. I was doing everything wrong. On the floor were barrels of vegetables—potatoes, leeks, carrots, and onions. One container was smaller than the rest, and inside was a burlap bag tied with twine and full of salt.

  ‘How much?’ I asked.

  ‘How much do you think?’ she snapped. ‘Forgive me, I don’t mean to be a witch. I slept poorly. A handful should do it.’

  I found straw-like string that I untied. Cupping my hands, I scooped the sharp granules into my palms and moved back towards Jemely, who I bumped into.

  ‘Watch where you’re—’

  ‘Sorry.’

  ‘Be more careful, girl.’

  I put out my hands, and when I felt her hands below mine, I let the salt slip between the gaps in my fingers. Remembering Mother’s thirst, I brushed the leftover salt grains onto the floor and found the water barrel alongside the kitchen counter.

  Four steps from the pantry to the water barrel. On the bottom shelf under the kitchen bench were cups and mugs. I used a cup to scoop up the liquid and then froze, realising my dilemma. If I went back the way I had come, I might spill water on Jemely. That meant I had to walk out into the middle of the living room, without a wall or bench to guide me.

  There were seven steps from my mother’s room to the kitchen counter. So it should take seven steps from the barrel to the middle of the living room to put me in line with Mother’s bedroom. Slowly, I shuffled forward, making my way around a table and some chairs. The process seemed to take forever.

  ‘That’s it, Adenine. I can see you now. Walk towards my voice,’ Mother called.

  My knees hit the end of her bed after eight steps. I turned left and took two more steps.

  ‘Now turn to face me,’ she said. Her enthusiasm and interest in me was overwhelming.

  The pride in her tone had me smiling, and within three paces, the bowl was removed from my hands.

  ‘Well done. You’re getting good at this,’ Mother said, and my face warmed.

  Jemely brought in the food, and Mother and I ate our stew in silence. Jemely insisted I drink two bowlfuls of water.

  ‘But I’m so full,’ I protested.

  ‘Doctor’s orders,’ Jemely answered, and I could feel her standing over me while I drank it.

  Varago had seemed a kind man, and I imagined him in his house, saving lives and curing diseases. One thing continued to niggle at me. I had not known Varago, yet he had known me.

  ‘Ma—’ I stopped. ‘Capacia,’ I said instead and waited.

  ‘Yes, child?’ she replied. Her reply showed me that she no longer wanted to own up to me as a daughter. I had shamed her somehow.

  ‘Varago knew who I was.’

  ‘Ah, when you were born, Varago helped your mother give birth to you. Then when you burned your eyes with boiling water, Varago helped care for you. Garrad told me this.’

  I remembered the stranger in my room. I’d thought it was Garrad, but it had been Varago.

  The bed dipped as Jemely sat down.

  ‘That was a while back,’ she noted.

  ‘Yes,’ Mother said, and there was a sudden tension in the air.

  ‘I’ve heard of you before.’ Jemely tapped the side of my arm, and I flinc
hed. ‘Town talked about ya when Ardonian…well…’ She sniffed. ‘Didn’t know you were blind, though.’

  ‘She was very young,’ Mother said.

  Ten wasn’t that young, and yet I struggled to remember blinding myself. Mother had lifted me from the tub, and I’d knocked the bucket over, and the water had splashed on my face, but I didn’t remember it getting in my eyes.

  ‘Strange, I thought the girl had…’ Jemely paused. ‘Hmm, never mind.’ But there was something in her tone—disbelief, maybe, or surprise. ‘And you didn’t get burned anywhere else, neither? I’ve seen burns before; the skin bubbles and blisters, and they turn into scars usually. Saw a woman’s face ruined once from hot oil. No chance of marriage for her. You can be blind and useful, Adenine, and you’ve got a sort of prettiness to you. That’ll count for more in marriage than havin’ workin’ eyes.’

  ‘She’s still young yet. Her eyes might heal,’ Mother said.

  ‘Nah. Not this one. Burned too young and too much. Varago told me yesterday.’

  Despite Mother’s reassurances, I’d never had any real hope that I would see again, but to know that Varago’s assistant had confirmed my worst fears left me feeling horrible and hopeless. Why did Mother keep saying they would heal? I hated false hope.

  ‘Well, Adenine, we have to bathe and dress your aunt now. Smell that odour? She’ll need a good scrub every day. Understand?’

  My stomach churned when Jemely drew my attention to the soiled bedsheets. They smelled like rotting food.

  ‘And I don’t mind doing your laundry for now, Capacia, but Adenine here will have to learn to do it for you. I’m not making a habit of being a maid. I’m a doctor’s assistant.’

  Mother had told me that women in Senya were not allowed to do certain jobs, and while Jemely could assist a doctor, she would never be allowed to practice as one.

  ‘Hardly fair to expect Adenine to cart clothes and sheets down to the river,’ Mother said. ‘What if I pay you for your trouble and you teach Adenine to change my sheets? I think she can learn to do most of it.’

  Most of it? Would she want me to do the cooking, make the fire, and buy things from the market? Wouldn’t I make people sick and spread the plague again? Mother seemed to have completely forgotten what was inside of me. It was like I wasn’t sick at all. Even Varago hadn’t seemed bothered by it.

  ‘As long as I’m paid, I’ll do it ’til I’m sick of it,’ Jemely replied. ‘A maid would do a better job. Now, you got new bedclothes here, but there’s still a stink. Let’s take a look. First I’ll get a chair and help you into it,’ Jemely said and left the room. A chair’s wooden legs scraped against the ground as Varago’s niece returned, and then they both groaned and struggled to get Mother onto it.

  ‘Right,’ Jemely said panting, and then came the stripping of sheets. The smell worsened as linen thumped on the floor. I pinched my nose. Jemely laughed. ‘Hah, you’ll have to be tougher than that.’

  Wanting to prove I was tough, I removed my hand.

  ‘Well, it’s soaked through,’ Jemely said. ‘Your pillows seem intact. The featherbed is ruined, but the straw mattress is untouched. I’ll have to get a bag of feathers today, and we’ll make you another featherbed. Do you prefer chicken down, or do you want somethin’ nicer, Capacia?’

  Mother sighed. ‘The feathers are from Bivinian geese. I’ll never replace them now I’m a cripple.’

  Jemely snorted. ‘If you ask me, I never saw the difference between duck and goose. I can get duck for you, but it’ll cost a pretty coin. I’ll have it replaced in a few days.’

  ‘So be it.’

  ‘All right, let’s get you clean.’

  ‘Adenine can manage,’ Mother replied, and I wondered if she was embarrassed to have Jemely do it. ‘Just fetch the bucket, soap, and cloth for her.’

  There were further scraping noises. ‘There’s a fresh sheet on now, though you’ll have to avoid the wet spots. Adenine?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Hold out your hand.’

  I did.

  ‘Here’s a cloth,’ Jemely placed the soft cotton into my hand. ‘Bucket is by the bed, should be warm, and here’s your soap.’ She placed a bar the size of a small brick into my hand; I placed it near the bucket. ‘Think you’ll manage dressing yourself?’

  ‘We’ll manage,’ Mother said.

  ‘Gots to be off now to help Varago. My unpaid work never ends. Adenine, the fire will need stoking. You’ll need to bring up some wood from outside; stock is low. The stew’s heatin’ on the coals, and it’ll need moving before the bottom sticks. You’ll be scrubbing that pot raw if it does. I’ll take the dirty dishes and wash them. I’ll wash these other soiled sheets and your dirty nightgown as well, Capacia.’

  Mother must have been naked, and I hoped she wasn’t cold.

  ‘I’ll be back in the evening,’ Jemely added.

  ‘Thank you, Jemely. We’ll be fine,’ Mother said.

  Jemely touched my left shoulder, startling me, and then she walked from the room, leaving Mother and I alone.

  An awkwardness rose between us, and I worried what muck I might find on her body. Cleaning her would be an uncomfortable closeness.

  ‘Quickly, Adenine,’ Mother urged.

  I breathed through my mouth, plunged the cloth into the warm water, and soaped it thoroughly. I wrung the cloth and then slowly cleaned the places Mother couldn’t reach. It didn’t take long before she snatched the cloth from my hand and finished the bath herself. The hardest part was getting her clothes back on afterwards.

  ‘Much better,’ she said, panting with the effort of dressing. ‘One should never have to sleep and live in one’s own filth.’ She laughed nervously, the first and only sign of her discomfort. In a way, I liked that she’d felt as uncomfortable as I had.

  ‘Now, my precious girl.’ She tugged at my arm and pulled me onto the bed beside her.

  The bad smell was gone from her skin, and I was happy to be close to her. In fact, the soap had left her smelling like flowers.

  ‘We have many things to discuss. The first, our little shop… Mystoria cannot run itself, and it must remain open or we’ll lose our customers, become poor, and be forced to sell everything. If your father were…’ She stopped for a moment. ‘Well, we can do this together, can’t we?’

  I scratched my face and nodded.

  ‘Good girl. You’re courageous, just like your father. You can call me Mama when it’s just us.’

  Father would never have pretended I wasn’t his daughter, and thinking about him made tears flow down my face. I swatted at them with the backs of my hands.

  ‘Oh, my darling. I know. It’s so hard. Come here.’ Mother pulled me tightly against her. ‘You are making me so proud. Everything you do amazes me. There is no limit to what you can achieve. It may not always be easy, but when you fall, I will pick you back up. We can do this together, can’t we?’

  ‘Y-yes, Capacia.’

  For the rest of that day, Mother set me to tasks. Some of them seemed useful, but others less so. She assured me that doing chores would help develop my confidence in the invisible world around me, but I grew bored. The barricade door that used to separate the second floor from the first was unlocked, and it was up to me to fetch wood stocks from the backyard.

  Mother seemed calm about the possibility of me infecting people. She never spoke about it and never worried. Months had passed since I’d taken any medicine. Was I cured?

  Travelling up and down the stairs with an armful of timber tired me, and I found my resentment of Mother growing. How could she not own up to me?

  I’d kept count of my footsteps all day, and the woodpile for the hearth was soon full. There were sixteen stairs leading from Mystoria to the upper floor. And ten from the kitchen to my attic bedroom.

  Navigating the darkness became a familiarity, though sometimes in full sunlight the red glow of my eyelids comforted me. Red by day, and a dark maroon by firelight.

  I imagined that red
light as a kind of magic that called to me, wanting to be my friend. When I told Mother she called it nonsense, and said it was witches’ thinking, and to stop daydreaming.

  It was the first time she’d mentioned witches as if they might be real. I’d picked up snippets of conversations over the years, for instance, I knew the healers of Meligna were sometimes referred to as witches, or golden whores or harlots.

  I ignored Mother’s warning, for the red glow of my eyelids was a rare and unusual comfort. If, before I’d gone blind, I’d been given a choice to only see one colour for the rest of my life, I’d have chosen red.

  Summer tomatoes, winter flames, red spring daisies, and strawberries from Uncle Garrad’s vegetable garden.

  A nasty thought reminded me of blood, which brought back the visions, and I pushed them away and focused on remembering Father’s voice, a comforting thought amidst the awfulness.

  Varago visited us in the evening to check on Mother, and my foot, and to inquire as to whether Mother was happy with Jemely’s conduct, as he’d called it. He brought with him freshly washed sheets and more food.

  ‘How are you, Adenine?’ he asked politely. I liked how he didn’t treat me like a foolish child.

  ‘So-so,’ I said.

  ‘Well, neither good nor bad is still good in my opinion.’ He went to Mother’s side. ‘You’re looking neat and tidy, and you’re smelling better, though still a little pale.’

  ‘Praise you, Varago, for bringing me clean sheets. It’s astonishing what one takes for granted when one can walk. Thank Jemely for me also. It was a dreadful job she had to do.’

  ‘Posh, don’t you think on it. Jemely is spoiled and needs life lessons. My being the only doctor in town has made her entitled.’

  ‘Well, she’s a willing girl. Adenine helped me bathe today. She also fetched firewood and supplies, and even brought me water and food.’

  ‘Wonderful. What a smart girl you are, Adenine. You’re lucky you have such a dependable daughter, Capacia.’

  I stiffened. Why did Mother bother telling Jemely that I was Uncle Garrad’s daughter if Varago knew who my real parents were?

  ‘Yes. I am lucky…’ She trailed off as if she didn’t believe she was lucky at all. And I knew why—I was a curse on her.