Anya’s Journal

“There’s something off about this guy, Jaromir—

a teeny tiny wrongness that I cannot place. It’s like a shadow is following him everywhere.

A living shadow. He talks to himself sometimes, too. Makes me wonder.”

It’s easier than I expected. I get a little lost at first since the game is insanely fast with all those numbers and letters and strange pictures flying past me like a wild torrent. I circle the table, peering into the hands of the players, trying to remember what they got, but by the time I pass the gathered information to Jaro, the spin is already over and we have to start all over again.

We’re gonna lose! We’re gonna lose! We’re so gonna lose!

But Jaro seems to be quite relaxed, and I try to follow his example. I watch carefully. The symbols are starting to get familiar, so I can memorize them better. I gave them code names too, and that helps a lot.

“The guy on your right has seven, seven, one, A, B, O, winged snake thing, jumping ball, half-horseshoe. The guy on your left—three, two, two, D, D, D, O, P, W, no pictures. The guy in front of you…”

And so on.

Jaro doesn’t always understand me, and he coughs when he needs me to repeat or paraphrase.

“You’re feeling alright, lad?” his opponents ask idly. “Haven’t passed through The Bear’s End lately, have you?”

“No, I haven’t. What’s there in the Bear’s End?”

“An outbreak of Teary again, they say. Heard of it? You get chills and sore throat and then, with no warning, you start crying bloody tears and don’t stop till there’s not a spoon of blood left in your body.”

I shudder and shift uneasily on Jar’s shoulder, and forget for a few seconds about my job, imagining the horrors of such a dreary illness.

“Ugh,” says Jar. “I think I’m losing this round.”

It jolts me awake and I rush to resume my duty.

Jaro is careful. He doesn’t start winning straight away, he loses some, he wins a few coins, then loses them again. He is learning how the game works. But then he starts winning, and winning, and winning some more. And it attracts some attention. Even Steel gives up his cozy seat by the fire to come up to the table and watch the game.

His brows rise then drop into a frown, but he doesn’t say anything. He knows Jaro’s cheating, but I don’t think he’s going to voice his suspicion. Besides, how can he prove it? It’s not like it’s illegal to bring your pocket ghost to the playing table.

I feel the room buzz around me. I’m starting to enjoy the game. It’s been a while since I felt I was actually doing something. Of course, in this case, this “something” is “cheating”, but who cares? It’s fun!

The coin columns on Jaro’s side of the table are getting pretty darn tall. Alright, maybe it wasn’t such a bad plan afterward. Maybe I should give the boy more credit. He isn’t stupid.

Steel watches the game for some time, but then he leaves. We barely notice.

Halfway through the game, I turn into a weasel. It happens on its own. Like that time when I first turned into a gull. I felt like a bird then. Now I feel like a weasel. But it makes it easier for me to sneak. I jump from one player to the next, spinning, hopping, sprinting across the colored field.

I forget about the time. I forget about everything.

Until I hear a sound.

A sob. A quiet desperate whimper.

My hearing is better than that of any human, so I am the only soul in the room who picks up on it. I wish I had ears so I can close them and just STOP HEARING. I can’t. I can’t. She is in my head, my chest--my everything, and I choke on it.

I stop in the middle on the table, forgetting all about the game. Where does the sound come from? Outside…

I throw a desperate glance at the window. Something is happening on the street. I need to see it. I need to know. But I can’t leave Jaro.

I turn into a gull again.

“I’ll be right back,” I promise him. “You’ll have to play without me for a while, alright?”

He looks at me, utterly shocked, but I’m already on my way out of the inn and into Shale’s cool night.

It started to drizzle a little, and the whispering sound of falling raindrops fills the night. I stop for a second, disoriented. Where did the sound come from? I haven’t imagined it, have I?

As the darkness came, Shale’s changed its face, like a girl donning an evening dress. I look around and it takes a bit of an effort to recognize the street we drove by to come here, the courtyard, the barn where we left the horse and the cart.

There are puddles of water on the ground and small bubbles dance on their surface. The door of the inn opens and closes, admitting people in or seeing them out, and scraps of warmth and light and laughter escape into the night and melt in the rain.

It’s a ridiculously peaceful night. And yet, someone is screaming somewhere.

“Please!” I hear then. “Please, you have to…”

The barn! It comes from the barn!

I need to check it out, but I have to hurry. Jaro will lose, badly, if I don’t get back to him on time.

I enter the barn through its double doors, and for a moment I pause, making sense of what’s happening inside.

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Anya is crying, cowering in a deep shadow beside the wagon, while Steel is beating her with a whip.

I’ve always suspected there were no warm feelings between these two, but the scene leaves me speechless and horrified.

Each hit is precise and unhurried and completely dispassionate. I look for the right word. “Habitual”, that’s it. Like some sort of tedious job, you’ve been doing for some time and so developed a muscle memory to it.

Is this what this is then? A habitual task? Beating that poor girl…

“You stole it, did you? You stole it?” the hunter barks, striking again.

The girl manages to lift her arm right in time to shield her head. It seems she, too, has developed muscle memory of a sort.

“I didn’t! I swear, uncle, I swear on my life…”

“Your life? What’s your miserable life worth? Less than a wretched rat! I should’ve drowned you when you were but a babe. Now that would’ve been a good decision.”

A new blow follows and the girl is not quick enough to cover her head this time. The whip catches her across the forehead and she cries out.

“You stole it, didn’t you?” he repeats, and his voice isn’t even particularly angry. “You stole my purse, you little shit?”

A new blow strikes and a new scream follows.

But when the girl lifts her head again, her expression is distorted with pain and anger and fear and hate. The impossible blueness of her eyes burns like cold fire and for the first time, she doesn’t look ugly to me. She looks beautiful in a way. Like a goddess of war, out of this world. Deadly.

“YES!” her voice cuts through the barn, like a whiplash. “I stole your fucking purse! I did it! So kill me already, you pitiless heartless bastard!”

I flinch at the extent of anger and hurt in her voice.

Steel flinches too and the whip stops. He probably didn’t expect his victim to confess, and he doesn’t even know what to do now that he’s obtained the confirmation he wanted.

“You did?”

“Oh yes, I did. I did it,” the girl lowers her head on the crook of her elbow.

“Where is it then?” Steel regains his composure. “Where did you hide it?”

“Nowhere. I didn’t hide it, you fool. I spent it!”

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not.”

“There were too many coins in there. You couldn’t have spent all of it! No, you hid it.”

“Oh, uncle, you know too damn well that I’m too dull-witted to even think of hiding anything. I spent it all, to the last coin. And if I had more, I’d spent more.”

“What could you possibly buy?”

“Food. I bought food. Lots of it. Sugar canes from vendors at the market. Lemonade. Hot chocolate. I’ve seen and smelled it so many times, I thought I should try it at least once. And then I went to Olivier’s bakery on the corner of March and I bought a dozen cupcakes. One of each flavor: peach, blueberry, chocolate. The one with an almond on top. The one with some coconut sprinkles. They melt on your tongue when you put them in your mouth. And you’ve never even tasted the coconut, have you? Haven’t you ever wondered what it tastes like?”

The hunter’s composure falters again. It seems he doesn’t recognize the creature before him. It’s not his silent niece. It’s someone else.

“You’re lying.”

“You think I’m smart enough to lie?”

There is an uncertain pause, and then Steel lifts his whip again and starts beating the girl with a new fervor. This time it’s not mechanical. He hits her, over and over and over. It catches her on the head and with a short cry Anya falls, and this time, she doesn’t rise. She just lies there. And I think she might be dead…

Horror pushes me away from the barn and back to the inn. My wings beat so fast I nearly fly past it. Inside, the heat of the fire and the cozy smells of food and spiced wine engulf me. People play games and drink and eat and drowse. It’s like a different world. It’s impossible to imagine that within a few meters a girl is being beaten to death by her guardian.

Jaro lifts his head from the table, and I read desperation in his eyes—he is losing, he needs me. I almost forgot about him. But I can’t go back to the game now. I need to get help.

I hop on his shoulder.

“I nearly lost!” his voice is barely a whisper, but I hear him fine even in the din of the inn. “Where were you?”

“I can’t play. I need you to come with me. Now!”

“What?” he whispers.

“Jar! There is no time to argue, you need to come with me! It’s Anya. She needs help!”

“Anya? What?” he hisses, and he doesn’t need to say the words for me to hear him: “If I give up the game now, I lose. We’ll end up with even less coin than we had. We’ll end up with nothing!”

“I know we’re going to lose the money, but this is more important, Jaro.”

He turns his head to look at me. He reads it in my voice—the graveness of the situation.

Then he lowers his palms on the table.

“I’m sorry, good men, but I have to leave.”

“You can’t leave!” argues the grey beard, but Jaro shakes his head.

“I must. I’m sorry. It was a good game.”

“Not for you it wasn’t!”

But Jaro doesn’t listen. He is already on his feet and he follows me through the room and outside and to the barn.

I watch his face change as he enters the double doors and grasps what’s happening.

“What’s going on here?” he asks loudly.

Steel looks up at him.

“Nothing at all, young man,” he replies. “Nothing at all.”

It’s only now that I notice he’s drunk. He sways a little as if the ground moves beneath his feet and he has to make an effort not to lose his footing.

“Doesn’t look like nothing to me,” Jaro grits his teeth. His eyes are fixed on Anya, and blackness spreads in them as if the ink is spilled into a crystal clear water pool.

“Be on your way, lad. This is a family business, so stay out of it.”

“Like hell I will. Let her go. Now.”

Jaro steps closer, and Steel raises his whip.

“She stole my money, and so she’s in trouble. If you don’t go, you’ll be, too.”

Anya whimpers, as she lifts her head.

“Don’t go!” she calls out to him. “Please, Jaromir, don’t…”

She shouldn’t worry. If there are things in this world that scare Jaro, trouble is not one of them.

“I’m not,” he assures her, and then he walks up to her, as if completely oblivious of the whip in the hunter’s hand.

“Jaro!” I say. “Jaro, be…”

And then Steel hits him. I gasp, but Jaro is fast. He knew the whip was coming and so steps out of its way, just in time. The tip misses his cheek by a mere inch though.

Steel hits again, and again he misses. Despite his lanky frame, Jaro’s nimble, always been, and Steel’s drunk, but it doesn’t mean the boy has much of a chance against him. The hunter’s a grown man, tall and strong, who has been in many fights. Jaro is but a city youth, skinny and bony, who hasn’t so much as seen a fight up close, let alone been in one.

Steel frowns. I can see he’s getting angry—at himself for not being able to hit the boy, at Jaro for being too fast for him to catch.

He drops the whip and reaches for the knife on his belt.

“Jaro!” I cry out in panic.

What have I done? I shouldn’t have brought him here! What did I expect him to do? Well, that’s simple—I didn’t expect anything! I didn’t think at all! Just acted on a pure impulse, a senseless desire to protect a girl neither of us even knows that well.

See, this is what becomes of those who fancy themselves heroes. I knew books shouldn’t be trusted. I’ve been nagging Jaro for being such an idealistic fool. And yet here I am! It is I who lured Jaro into a danger—a deadly danger!

“Jar,” I say. “We need to go now. Forget about her. He’s right, it’s none of our business.”

But Jaro doesn’t even listen. Of course, he doesn’t.

Steel stabs at the boy with the knife. Jaro staggers back to avoid the blade. Doing so, he loses his balance and falls to one knee, and in the next second the hunter is already upon him, with his teeth bared.

I dart forward and claw into Steel’s face. It’s ridiculous, this miserable effort of mine, but I don’t think about it. My only thought is that I have to protect Jaro. Try at least, even if… even if…

Steel covers his face and backs away from my beating wings. He looks around not understanding, frowns, but I come up to him once more, and he stumbles back again, still confused. I’m not sure what he feels, but he feels something, and that is enough for him to retreat.

And that is also enough for Jaro to get on his feet and grab Anya’s shoulder.

“Can you stand? Can you walk? Can you run?”

“Yes, I can run.”

He helps her up and together they run. And Steel is too drunk to chase after them.