Finding Love

M

“So James,” I asked, trying to act casual, “do you happen to know Abigail at all? I mean, she’s my lady in waiting and I just, maybe, accidently heard voices coming from Abigail’s room last night.” I grinned as James turned bright red.
I’d been taking an evening stroll and maybe had just possibly gone down to the servants’ quarters and happened across Abigail’s room. One of the voices was hers and the other belonged to a man. It didn’t take a genius to see how attached they were. I thought I would break it to him gently.
I look of incomprehension then passed his face, “I wasn’t with Abigail last night,” he thought to himself more than to me, “she said she was busy.” He looked away from me and I felt bad. Abigail had probably been doing something perfectly innocent, and I had made it sound like she was seeing someone else. She must have been doing something perfectly innocent, with a man in her room…
He left in a hurry, “No, James!” I called after him, and then cursed lightly under my breath when he went slightly out of earshot. Curses I had learnt from my brothers, and how to use them I had learnt from K. I had probably just made James’ relationship a whole lot worse for probably no reason. I sighed; I really could be stupid sometimes.
I put my hand on my neck, and remembered my necklace as I felt my way around its delicate frame. I thought of home. I thought of K. And, I thought of my grandmother.
I began to wonder if being a Natural was something that you had to inherit. My grandmother had been one to, a time traveller no less. She would often go back in time and see her youth, when she had grown old. It saddened her, but it also kept her going after my grandfather’s death.
I had run away because of her, in truth. The day before I ran, she had given me her necklace, and told me to keep safe. She also told me that hardships and pain beyond my wildest dreams would be coming my way, and also the greatest reward in the world. I had asked what it was and she had told me I was too young. I still wondered back then.
I had begged her to tell me what had happened, but she refused. She always said that the future was set, and that whatever we did had already been done. She said that if she told me, I would not have as much fun, and I would not be the person that I would become. I was slightly ashamed thinking back on it, because every time she had spoken about things like that, I had nodded and told myself that she was only an old biddy with half a mind. Only now did I realise that I should have loved her while I could.
On a side note – she was only fifty two years old. In our family, it appeared, the custom was to have children before you hit your eighteenth birthday. Before you had really stopped being a child yourself. It was meant to make women grow up quickly, because being immature was not an attractive feature, apparently.
Thinking of home just made me nostalgic. Nostalgia and I are really not a good combination. It sends me off on ridiculous, teary thought patterns. For instance, this one particular time, I then began to think about C. I wondered what had happened to them. It had been months since we’d left them on the edge of Eastern territory. I wondered if they’d found a house, and a good job, and had enough to eat.
I suddenly felt awfully guilty. What if they we starving while I was living luxury in the Palace? Was it really fair? Was it fair that me who had been rich all my life should continue to be rich, while they, who had suffered all their life, should continue to suffer? I supposed if this whole stupid business hadn’t happened, that would have been the way life would have spanned out anyway. Eventually I came to the conclusion that life wasn’t fair. Whatever you did, the rich stayed rich and the poor stayed poor.
I idled away a few hours on my own, looking at the water, looking at the sky, looking at the scenery. Cheltnam was away for the day on some ‘official business’ and he had left me alone. And with James gone, that was certainly how I felt.
I returned to my room, sat on the bed, and stared at the floor. I didn’t think it possible for someone to feel as bored as I did. I then went to the library and searched for something that might have interested me. Nothing seemed to. It was all official records or bad books with no plot, in which the hero (if that is what you can call him) married and had children.
I took a seat at the window in the Library, and stared out into the surrounding houses. This gave me an idea. I ran back to my room and grabbed a cloak. I covered myself so no-one could recognise me and slipped into the servants’ quarters. I found the door by which they all left and left the Palace myself.
To my surprise, the guards at the exit barely gave me a second glance. They let me out and I gasped. I could not believe my eyes, as the Western city must have been three times the size of the Southern one. Everywhere there were people and shops and children. Thousands of children laughing and screaming. And everybody looked so happy! Even those who looked poor didn’t seem to dote on the fact they had nothing. They just seemed to make the most of it, with a smile on their face. The West was a lot more open than the South.
I kept to the poorer community, not the poorest, but the cheap taverns and houses in the centre of the city – further from the Palace, but not too far.
No-one paid me any attention and that shocked me. You could still see my white skin and dark hair under the cloak, but no-one cared. They seemed to tolerate it. It was funny, because Cheltnam had made it sound as if leaving the castle would have been signing my own death warrant. But no gangs of thieves were skinning me alive. Everyone seemed quite pleasant.
I walked into a tavern on a street corner. It was full of children and men, and a big woman with too many smile lines was behind the counter. She saw me come in, and, seeing how nervous I was, called me over to the bar, “Come ‘ere, Love.” She said in her thick western drool. I obliged and took a seat.
She stared at me through thick, dirty lashes, “Now, what can I get ya?” He smile lines moved with her, as did her thick layers of fat. He wrinkled face was a young one, but had been aged through what I had imagined to be many childbirths. I felt I could trust her.
I shook my head, “I don’t have any money.” She noticed my accent but decided not to focus on it.
She smiled at me, “Don’t matter. Sweet little girl like ya gets in the house.” I gave her a thank you nod as she produced a bubbling mug of something in front of me. She chuckled in a thick, throaty way, seeing the look on my face, “It’s the house ale sweetie. If you ain’t used to drinking it, I’d try downing it quickly.”
I stared at it for a few moments before picking it up. I ignored the grease and grim of the handle and took a large gulp. I then spat it out back over the counter. She laughed even louder as those around me stared. “My mistake, better drink it slow, Hun, don’t want you pukng up all over me customers.”
I nodded as she began to idly wipe down the bar, “Now tell me, dearie, what’s nice girl like you doing in a place like this.” He red ringlets bobbed up and down with each stroke of the cloth. I bit my lip for a moment, wondering what to say, she chuckled once more, “You don’t need to tell me nothing if you don’t want to.”
I shook my head, finding myself unable to stop smiling at the kind woman’s attitude, “No, no, I will tell you. I was bored and, I hadn’t seen the city before, so I thought I would.” I considered when I had ventured into the southern town and been nearly skinned alive. I was sitting in the same scenario, having a friendly chat: different people, different attitudes.
She eyed me, with loosely judging eyes, “So a lady like yourself, came down ‘ere on a whim?” I nodded, although she remanded unconvinced, “Look, there ain’t no need to be ashamed; we get quite a few runaways in these parts. If you want, I could offer ya a bed for the night and a job if ya can tend a bar.”
I had taken another sip, and again spat it over the counter. She rolled her eyes, “Look, ya really gotta stop doin’ that.” I couldn’t believe it. Had she really thought me to be a runaway? Did I look like a runaway, all covered and nervous? I supposed I did, slightly.
I shook my head, “I’m not a runaway,” I said, too quickly for her to actually believe me. I eyed her as she stared me up and down.
She shook her head, “That’s fine darling, if ya say ya ain’t a runaway, I won’t say no more. But, if you ever need it, that offer still stands.” She pointed to a girl in a brown apron. She looked slightly older than me, with big eyes. Quite like a dog, I thought to myself. She was serving drinks to a couple of men in the back, “She her,” I nodded, “She came to me not six months ago. Her parents had been nasty folk, tryin’ to marry her off aged just sixteen. I told her, ya see, I told her that she could live here with me, as long as she earned her keep. Best thing I have ever said. She’s the hardest workin’ lass her, and she’s kinda like a daughter to me.”
That girl was me. That girl was probably what could have happened to me. At that moment, surrounded by the comforting smell and warmth of that place, I wish that girl had been me. The woman seemed to swell up with a sense of pride as she mentioned the girl, light beaming on her face.
But her gaze then returned to me, “But ya, ya really ain’t from around ‘ere, are ya?” I always found it funny how middle-aged women always seemed to be the ones who noticed things first.
I nodded silently, while she rubbed a beer glass with the same cloth which she had wiped the table with. Obviously hygiene wasn’t the first thing on her mind, “Then were ya from?”
I shrugged, trying to seem noncommittal, “Out of town.” Even though I was sure this woman wouldn’t scream and try to kill me, I felt it best not to let her know the truth. After all, one couldn’t be too careful.
“I should say,” She muttered, “I ain’t never heard an accent like yours before.” She said it kindly, but I felt that she was secretly trying to work out exactly who I was. I couldn’t blame, her – I would to, if a strange girl had wondered into my home.
“Ya wouldn’t happen to be involved with those strange people who’ve been wondering around the Palace, would ya?” I looked at her, quietly contemplating what would happen if I said yes, “Ya see,” she continued, not having noticed me, “I gotta niece who works down there, and although she ain’t allowed to tell no one, she told me, ‘cause I’m her favourite aunt, ya see. She said some weird girl’s been chattin’ up the prince and all. She likes to make up stories, but I actually believed her this time.”
I looked to one side, talking before I could help myself, “I would hardly say I was chatting him up. He’s usually the one who talks to me.” I put my hand over my mouth, looking back at her.
She was beaming at me, “Well, what a day. I’m gonna talk to my niece, and I’m gonna say, ya would never guess who I had in my tavern, and she ain’t gonna believe me.” She poured a drink out for a man who called her cutie and gave her a silver coin. I sensed that this bar was mainly used for locals who all knew each other.
I stared at her, “You’re not going to kill me? Isn’t that what you do to strange posh people?”
She laughed, loudly, “Why would I kill ya?” She pushed my shoulder, “Ya posh people are really weird, ain’t ya?” I let out a sigh of relief. Turns out that these people really were genuinely nice.
She began wiping down the bar again, as her face took on a more sullen note. It didn’t suit her wrinkles, and they began to sag around her eyes, “Now, ya don’t have to answer this, if it’s pushin’ it,” she came really close to my face, whispering, “but is it true that ya is a Natural?”
I nodded slightly; to make sure that no-one aside from her could see. She looked slightly taken aback, but returned to her cleaning, “Well, I ain’t never met one in the flesh before, ya know, with what happens to the ones who don’t go to the camps and all.”
I stared at her, watching her wrinkled crease around her mouth as she said it, “What happens?”
She gave me an agasp face, stretching her wrinkles and making her look young again, “Ya don’t know?” I shook my head, “Well, hun, as the rumours go, if ya refuse to fight in the war, and ya is a Natural and all, they ends up killing ya!” She shook her head, adjusting her dress and pouring out another drink, “But they ain’t nothing more than rumours, I should imagine. Mind ya…”
She paused for a moment, rubbing her hands on the cloth, “Yes,” I said, on the edge of my seat, “continue,”
She shrugged, getting closer to me, “Couple of years ago, there was this guy who used to come in here. He could do some really weird, witchy stuff. Like controlling peoples thoughts and feelin’s. None of the good folks liked him much, but one day, he just disappeared. He was always going on about how he didn’t want nothing to do with the camps, but in the end, rumour has it they killed him. Ya can’t blame them, ‘cause having nasty people ‘bout who do stuff like that ain’t safe for the kids. But, there are others who didn’t do nothing to nobody, and they got taken just the same.” She looked me straight in the eye, “The thing is, see, they don’t want ya ‘round in case ya is a threat to the cause and all. They want ya dead rather than fighting against them.”
“And what are these camps?” I said, before she had even finished talking.
She looked at me, “Why ain’t you awful interested? The camps are places where ya meant to go if ya is a Natural. They say they train ya up and send ya out to war. Most folks end up goin’ there, but some don’t, ‘cause if ya fight in the war, ya usually end up dead anyway. Those who enter those camps near never come out.”
“They get Naturals to fight? Why?” I frowned, wondering why none of this had been told to me before.
She frowned, “Why’d ya think? ‘Cause Naturals’ got powers we normal folk don’t. They make up near quarter of the army.”
I got up abruptly. My cloak fell off my shoulder as everyone caught a glimpse of my dress, and my face. I knew in that moment the woman had cottoned onto the fact that I was from the South. I didn’t really care, “I need to leave,” I said abruptly, covering myself with my cloak, “Thank you.”
I started to leave but she caught my arm, “Look, hun, just make sure ya keep safe. Outside these walls, it ain’t a pretty world. Believe me, we all know.” I nodded and left, the scent of ale and dirt behind me.
The air outside was brisk and cold, not just because autumn was rolling in, but also because we had been talking for hours. I said talking, but it was mainly her watching while I spilt drink on myself.
I had to clear my head and think for a minute. I was beginning to doubt everything and everyone. If Naturals were common use in the war, why wasn’t I being trained? And if Natural’s were being killed if they didn’t fight, why wasn’t I fighting?
Was it all a lie, or had lady fate made a deal on my behalf?