CHAPTER 5 : BURNT EGGS

"The witches will steal your daughters and feed them to their gods. The beasts they call 'Leviathan'. They will twist their minds, corrupt their hearts and teach them the ways of darkness. Do not deny the eternal flame. The patience of shadows knows no end." ~ Ianna Picket, Anti-Witch Brochure, Tar Pools

EGG

I cough myself awake.

Smoke burns the inside of my throat and nostrils. Eyes watering, I whip off my blanket and throw my legs over the edge of the cot. The room is hazy, but early morning light is streaming through the window. Squinting, I stumble for the door.

The Warden is nowhere to be seen.

I race downstairs, nearly breaking my neck more than once, woolen socks slipping on the stone. Girls are out of their dorms, hurrying down in droves, still in their nightgowns. The smoke is thickest beside the baths, the door is open and black clouds are billowing from the entrance.

The bath...

Oh no.

A sinking feeling settles in my stomach. I stop short and duck low where the air is clearer. Waving my arms in front of my face, I look through the door.

Four of the bath barrels are burnt down to their metal skeletons. The window shutters and a corner of the cedar cubbies resemble crisp toast. The most charred barrel is the one I used last night, and the hanging plants near it are shriveled, black and smoking.

In the middle of the room, waving a towel towards the open window to clear the smoke, is the Warden.

I shrink backwards, but bump into something soft. It's Yendy, the cook, arms crossed. Her hair is covered by a bonnet, and she's looking at me like one would look at a duck who can't swim.

"Best own up to it now, child.”

"I-I can barely breathe!" I cough into my fist for emphasis. "I should really go outside until the smoke clears." I try to pass her, but she's solid as a rock.

"Is that Egg?!" The Warden's voice, shriller than usual, shouts from within the bath.

I wince.

To my dismay, the panic has subsided and some of the girls aren't racing for an escape, but slowing to watch the disaster unfold. They whisper in each other's ears, behind their hands, eyeing me.

"How stupid is he?"

"Maybe he was dropped on his head as a child."

I pick Nilah out among them a few steps below me. She's holding a bucket of water under one arm, balancing it on her hip. Where did she get the water? The well? Is that what it's for? I can see her expression alter as she puts the pieces together.

"Chicken brain," she says loudly, shaking her head, and walks away.

That's worse than chicken legs...

"Egg," the Warden's breathless voice sounds behind me, "may I speak with you? Immediately?"

Slowly, I turn around and enter the bath, covering my mouth and nose with my sleeve. The Warden's nightgown is singed at the bottom, and the tip of her hair is smoking. She clasps her hands in front of her. "Did you put out the tinderbox after your bath last night?"

I hang my head. I wish I was anywhere but here. I wish the undershadow ate me. "No," I say.

"You are lucky no one is dead."

"Yes."

"Though some of the girls on the upper levels will have trouble breathing properly for a few weeks."

"I'm sorry."

Part of me wants to explain—I've never used fire by myself before, I didn't think...I didn't know...oh, why bother?

"You're already collecting honey today as part of your previous punishment, and when you return you will spend as long as it takes to clean the ash, scrub the soot, and restore this bath house to its previous glory. Is that clear?"

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"What about the planting?"

"Clean quickly."

The water in my eyes makes the entire room shimmer and blur, I can barely see anything at all. I nod stiffly and swing around, descending the tower as fast as I can without throwing myself headfirst down the stairs, all the while trying to ignore the whispers from the little witches in training.

My shirt is crumpled from sleeping in it, and now I smell like smoke, but at least everyone smells like smoke—so there's that.

Before I can make my exit, a thick hand grabs me by the elbow as I pass the kitchen and pulls me inside. "Here." Yendy, still wearing her bonnet, thrusts a small bundle of checkered cloth in my hands. "That's breakfast and lunch, so don't eat it all at once."

Confused, I lift a corner of the cloth to see a potato salad sandwich and a small, glorious apple. "Thank you," I stutter. My stomach is already growling.

"You're too skinny.” As if to prove it, she gives my arm a painful pinch and makes a tsk-ing sound with her tongue. "A boy can't survive on eggs alone. Bavetna isn't human like the rest of us, so I think she sometimes forgets. Oh, and here." She shoves a pair of leather-lace boots into my arms.

I stare at them. Even I can tell they’re beautifully crafted. The stitching is perfect and they’re stained a deep mahogany. They must have taken weeks to make.

"They're waterproof, fireproof and won't fall apart no matter how badly you treat them," she pauses, "they're women's boots, but they should fit you fine."

I open my mouth to thank her, but she shakes her head. "They're from Tirma, not me."

Tirma? The witch who wanted me to sleep outside?

"Why are you being so nice to me?" I blurt out. "I almost burned down your tower."

She whacks me on the side of the head.

"Ow!" I rub my temple.

"Because you're our farm boy. Now off with you before you set my kitchen on fire too." She shoos me away.

Feeling a little lighter, I hurry into the main yard, hopping on one foot at a time as I pull on my new boots. They do fit perfectly. The sun is out, again, but there's a few promising clouds hanging over the western mountains, hinting at rain. My feet slow. Normally, Bavetna wakes me up before the crack of dawn, hands me a hoe and a bag of cut potatoes and tells me to get to work.

I'm not exactly sure where to go.

Where is the honey, anyways?

In the palace, I would have it on my bread sometimes. Perfect, golden brown and shiny, like liquid amber. The Silk Sisters taught me about honey bees, and how they need a Queen or they'll die. I asked them what a Queen was, and they told me it was like a King, but a woman. I laughed and said that was absurd.

But apparently, I don't even know how to put out a fire.

So maybe I'm wrong about that too.

I've never seen a bee, and can't help but want to. I look around for Nilah, hunting for her telltale coal-dust hair and general know-it-all demeanor.

She's by the chicken coop again, talking to Norasmus.

Which is strange, because usually I'm the only one who talks to him.

I make my way over, avoiding the chickens like the time bombs they are. Nilah has changed out of her nightgown and is wearing a purple dress over a cream-coloured, long-sleeved shirt. The sleeves puff out around the elbows and taper in at the wrists. "Hey," I wave the bundled sandwich at her, "where do we go to—?"

"Shh!" She's squinting at Norasmus, who is minding his own business, pecking at corn on the ground.

"What?" I whisper, leaning with her to stare. "Is he sick or something?"

"He's listening."

"...Okay? Roosters have ears, right?"

"No, I mean, he understands what I'm saying."

She's insane.

I'm stuck collecting honey with a crazy witch.

What could go wrong?

"Great," I say, "then he should know you're the one who lit the tinder box. So technically, half the blame for the fire should be on you."

"What?!" She pops up like a coiled spring. "You didn't close the grate! Everyone knows you need to suffocate a fire to put it out!"

"You used some fancy magic to light it! Maybe you did it wrong."

"I performed that spell perfectly," she says, but her eyes flicker back and forth.

Is that...doubt?

Taking a risk, I double down. "Admit it!" I point at her. "You did something weird to it."

"No, I—" She hesitates and tugs on her hair, winding it around her finger. "It's just that...the havoc I used...it was...different than usual."

"What's havoc?

"What's—" She looks at me in shock. "Don't you know anything?"

I throw my arms in the air. "I know lots of things! But apparently no one else needs to know star seasons or how to calculate accurate grain storage in order to survive ten years of famine or which noble receives the assets of a deceased second uncle twice removed! I can ride a winged horse, tell you exactly how the wind from last week affects the clouds today, and how to play the lionette tarbuckel—but no! All you people care about is chickens and fertilizer and how to snuff out tinder boxes!" I stop my rant there, breathless.

But Nilah isn't staring at me. She's staring over my shoulder.

Huffing, I turn to look.

Norasmus is perched on a fence post, watching me.

I frown. "He does kind of look like he's listening, doesn't he?"