Ennah

Sentisse, 66 years after the Rise

When I finally step inside the house, I am exhausted and my mood has dropped far below freezing. Feathers, they’d really trashed the place. Every bottle in the waiting hall was shattered, blood-red wine dripped from every surface, and the barrel we kept there — shiny as copper but leaky as a colander — looked like it had been ripped apart in a storm.

I am bruised, my muscles are sore in more places than I care to think about, and I’ve been cut several times. Even though I used a broom to sweep up the shards of glass, keeping a safe distance, I couldn’t prevent some of them flying off and hitting me. The biggest challenge was getting them all into a big bucket. I had to come close enough to place the thing over the pile I’d created, shove a wooden board under it and then try to turn it over. I think that part gave me most of the cuts — no matter how swiftly I distanced myself from the bucket, the shards were faster.

Turns out the floor could get even redder.

Now I reek of wine and sweat, and my stomach growls. I don’t smell any food though. Well, if Uncle Aniol expects me to cook him dinner after this monster clean-up, he can forget it or make his own. I’ll make do with some bread and — well, not sheep cheese, for I’ve seen too much of that stuff up close too just now. We must have something lingering around.

Ugh, I feel dirty and sore. After I’ve fetched myself something to eat, I’ll know I’ll be headed to the bathroom for a nice bath. Maybe I’ll even treat myself to some rose petals and olive oil in the water. Uncle Aniol can shove any chore he has for me up his—

He’s in the kitchen. Perhaps I should have known, but he’s not eating. He’s sitting at the table with his back to me, bowed over what I think are the ledgers. In front of him, there’s a small wooden box that I’ve never seen empty before; all the coins that usually sit in it, are now stacked into neat piles of ten pieces each. There are three full ones of them, and a smaller tower that feels like the runt of the litter. Thirty-four coins then.

And Aunt Carme’s necklace.

My heart flutters and a stroke of grief pulls through my stomach.

“Uncle Aniol?” I ask, my voice little more than a whisper.

“What?”

“Are you… Selling…”

He growls. “I have no choice.”

The pain in his voice, the defeat, sends another stroke of pain crashing through me and I swallow the “but” that I was about to say.

“Uncle…” I have no words. I may be angry with him. I still want to yell at him for all he did. Perhaps I’ll do so later on. But seeing him like this… I know he would never sell Aunt Carme’s necklace if he had any other options. I hadn’t realized how dire our situation was until now.

“Get yourself something to eat,” he says. “There’s bread and cheese.”

But I’m not hungry anymore. “How much do they want?” I ask, my throat dry.

“One hundred.”

What? I can’t claim to be an expert, but I highly doubt that Aunt Carme’s necklace is worth seventy-six coins. No, wait, sixty-six. “How much do we…” I start, but I can tell by the way his muscles tense that, even when he sells Aunt Carme’s necklace, we’ll be coming up short.

I bite my lip and throw a glance toward the gold glistening in the warm light of the oil lamps that always make this kitchen feel welcoming. Whenever I think of thirty-four coins, it always feels like a lot. An amount I’ll never own. But seeing it in three and a half piles like this, knowing it’s only a third of what we need…

“How much time…”

“Too little.”

I nod, even though he can’t see me. Even if we’d sell all the wine we have on the premises right now, we’d make about fifty coins. That would still put us sixteen coins short. But I’ve written a few letters the day before yesterday. And I know the payment for a few orders have yet to come in, so that ought to be about fifteen… Amador’s father gives us discounts when we have a lot of glass waste and furry beasts know I’ve filled the heap just now. Amador should be over soon — I can’t help but feel a tingle in my lower body with that thought — and… And I have some money in Granny’s chest. I think Granny meant for me to use it to return home, and since I’m staying here…

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I don’t even think twice. I turn around and head back outside, my feet barely touching the ground as I soar to the shed. It stands crooked and lonely in the moonlight, the embers under the kettle bathing the room in a soft glow that’s pouring out of the window, inviting me in. I send a little heart to both Granny and Aunt Carme, buried where I cannot see them but the light hearts will reach them, and make a vow to Aunt Carme that I’ll keep her necklace safe. I have to.

The door shrieks as I open it and my eyes catch something sparkling by the threshold. A yellow shard. Granny’s dust spell must have gotten rid of it. I cast all feelings of having handled enough shards for one day aside as I carefully pick it up. I look around for more glass pieces, remembering the one with the symbol, but it seems Uncle Aniol’s work that evening was quite thorough.

And well, what would I do with a glass shard with a symbol on it anyway? I’ll make do with the crystals on my ankle bracelets. Bracelets I struggle to get off because I am so tired, but I manage and fly up to the chest. My heart is still in it, though I can tell it’s starting to dissolve. The glistening has dulled and it’s grown considerably, the edges now frayed and turning misty. Granny’s heart is still the same and I smile. Bottles. As much as I hate them when they’re broken, when they’re whole they are miraculous.

The gold in the pouch softly rings as I take it out. I’ve never counted what Granny left me, but now I need to know just how much it is.

First, I gently put the shard of glass on the bottom of the chest. To make sure nothing comes flying out of it, I release the pouch to close the lid using both hands, and then grab the pouch from mid-air just before it drifts away far enough to fall down. I can imagine what a ching that would be, and I’m just too tired to be willing to tolerate a noise like that.

So I make my way down smoothly and land with the slightest of thuds. The ankle bracelets are even harder to put on again and when I take too long with the left one, the ching still comes. I suppress a snorted sigh and reach for the pouch, that becomes airborne again as soon as I nudge it with my toes. Too impatient to wait for it to rise high enough to only have to reach out and grab it, I take hold of the pouch as soon as it floats by my knee. Then I empty the contents on the table. I can barely keep the coins in check with both my hands, but at last I have them all resting on the surface of the table.

If I play it well, I should be able to count them and collect them all in the pouch again without difficulty, though piles like Uncle Aniol made are probably out of the question. That’s okay. I just want to know how much I can add to the fee Càgila’s asking.

Eightteen. That’s a lot. I was quite wealthy without realizing it.

I nod. Eighteen coins to contribute. Maybe it’s enough to keep Uncle Aniol from having to sell Aunt Carme’s necklace.

I think about her as I make my way back to the house. She loved the necklace so much. She once told me about a forest touched by Damagic that turned all the trees, branches and leaves into diamonds. According to her, her necklace was worth a fortune. The leaf on the chain had once been a normal, green leaf, just like the ones on the vines here — I was nine when she told me and even then I highly doubted that anything growing here could even be as beautiful as the leaf on her chain must have been even before it turned into a diamond. Now I think it could well be the case.

Well, fortune or not, I cannot let Uncle Aniol sell it. It doesn’t matter whether I’ll ever wear it or not, it’s the only pretty keepsake we have of her, and I refuse to lose it.

There’s still a glimmer of light trickling up through the soil on both graves as I pass them. Smiling, I pick up my pace and enter the house, the cold reminding me of the warm bath I surely deserve. But first things first.

He’s still in the kitchen. “Uncle Aniol?”

“What?”

“I’ve brought you… I want to help…”

He turns around. The shadows cast by the oil lights emphasize the lines on his face. They make him look weary, old. It’s almost scary.

His eyes dart from my face to the pouch in my hands. “What’s…” he starts.

“Granny left me some coins. Eighteen. I want you to use them for the Càgila fee, so you won’t have to sell…” I have to take a breath just to steady myself. I want to give this money freely. Strong. Not blubbering all over it.

Uncle Aniol gives me the strangest look he’s ever shown me. I can’t even tell if it’s gratitude, or if he’s appalled by me, or maybe some kind of annoyance. All I know for sure is that he swallows — I can hear it — followed by a curt nod.

“I don’t know if it’s enough. I did some calculations in my head, and if we sell everything we have stored in—”

“Thank you, Ennah.”

“Yes?” I’m holding my breath. “Is it enough to not have to sell the necklace?”

He sighs. “I… I don’t know. But it helps, and who knows…” He clears his throat. “I’ll be off to town tomorrow. You take the morning off.”

I can’t believe my ears.

“And take a bath. You smell like you’ve been bathing in wine.”

“In a sense, I have.”

And then there’s this little moment of understanding again. Something we have in common; our dislike of Càgila and their means of intimidation. A shared enemy.

Uncle Aniol breaks our eye contact and collects the coins from the pouch. He hands me the empty sack and somehow, it makes me smile. This pouch may be empty now, but my heart is full. I clutch it against my chest and then I’m off to the bathroom.