~ TASHA ~

Tasha watched the stars with a tear in her eye. She was out in the yard around the house, sat on a makeshift bench she’d made by draping a stray plank in blankets. The cold air of the night stole through her clothes as though they weren’t there.

What a fine fool I am.

Tema had left without a goodbye, and Tasha hadn’t even begged her to stay. It wasn’t like she’d meant to cause offence. Tema needed to understand that it was hard for Tasha. She’d grown up with a brother. It didn’t matter how womanly Tema looked, how sultry Tema sounded, that imprint of memory was hard to shake away.

But whether she’d meant to or not, she’d upset Tema, and she hadn’t even tried to explain herself. Like a prime idiot, she’d just stayed put, as the pretty girl before her ran tearful into the night. Tema was pretty. She hadn’t expected that. The last time they’d seen one another, Tema’s hair had been short but shaggy, and no amount of caked foundation had covered the blue stubble over her lip. Their estrangement had been kind to Tema. She’d blossomed into a lovely woman. They could have rekindled their relationship, shared the happiness of the old times again. If only she hadn’t been so abrasive.

Oliver always said she was brash. “If you had a bit more tact, you’d have more friends.” Honest, she described herself. And usually she was. Tonight, if anything she’d been bitter.

She’d been yawning while she was talking with Tema, but when she was alone somehow she’d found that she wasn’t all that tired anymore. Without meaning to, she’d found a comfortable spot outside, and lay there, on her back, watching the stars. Something about the sky unnerved her. The constellations she’d grown up with, the familiar formations, did not exist here. There were different constellations, shapes nobody had seen yet. Where the Belaboran sky had been home to a big pink moon, this planet had two, sisters in green and beige. She’d never seen a dual moon before.

Essegena was a world all alone. She’d seen Oliver’s charts, read Oliver’s briefings. In this whole solar system, orbiting around a star more remote than most, there was only one solitary planet and its two sister-moons.

Tasha wondered what it would be like, to be a planet in the depths of space, with no celestial bodies for company save the sun you orbited. Like a young girl, with no siblings or cousins, nobody to love her but the mother who gave her life.

They said this was the edge of space, but surely that couldn’t be true. She’d always been told that space was infinite. There were hundreds of thousands of stars up there, each one impossibly massive and yet so small from down here. How small must Tasha have been to them?

They’d grown up in a fancy manor, her and Tema, but the family’s well of money was long since dry. Over the years, sections of the house had been closed away. The less they lived in, the less they’d have to spend on bills. By the time Tasha was born, the Caerlin family lived in just four of their home’s thousand rooms.

Once, when she was five or six, she’d broken into a forbidden portion of the house. It hadn’t been occupied for years. Birds had nested in the hallway, but they’d long gone, leaving behind only a few twigs. The walls were lined with portraits. She lost track of time, gazing at the men and women and children in their regal finery, imagining, and old Goodwife Maria the cook had caught her when she came to bring her in for dinner. “I’ll have to tell your mother,” Maria had said, ignoring Tasha’s pleadings as she dragged her along by the collar of her dress.

Mother had struck her when she was found out, of course. She didn’t want her only daughter to go gallivanting off and get lost. There was a war on. As Tasha nursed a red-raw bottom, so her mother had told her not to talk about what she saw.

But Tash made sure her mother knew that it was Maria who’d torn her dress. The next morning, Goodwife Maria was gone. Aunt Danyer had come in the night to help around the house until a new maidservant could be found. Tash asked Aunt Danyer about the portraits, one day when they were doing the washing up together. She hadn’t had a say in the matter. Aunt Danyer seemed to have some sort of gift for precognition. She knew as soon as she arrived that Tasha had questions. A few chunks of chocolate under the table was all it took for Tash to forget that she wasn’t to talk about the hall of portraits.

That night, Aunt Danyer had carried Tash out of bed and sat her on her knee in a spot in the garden, next to the fountain that had been allowed to run dry. They’d spent the night gazing up at the stars. “The people in those paintings,” Danyer had told her, “are the ones who came before you. They’re a part of you, Tasha, and you couldn’t be who you are without them. They’re up there, in the stars, watching you. And you’re going to do them proud.”

She’d crossed the stars, gone to the far end of the universe, and she hadn’t found her ancestors. But the universe was a big place, she knew. No doubt she’d just passed them by. She wondered if they were watching her now, those men and women. She wondered if Aunt Danyer was watching her too. And she wondered if they were proud of her.

She ran a hand over her belly. Her child, her little treasure. Years from now, when she was reunited with Aunt Danyer and Granddad Mordant and all the people she’d never known in life, she’d be able to look down at the person who was growing inside her. And she’d be able to watch her grandchildren and great-grandchildren learning the stories of “Grandma Tash”, who’s watching them from the stars.

At no point did she remember going to bed, but she supposed she must have done. She woke the following morning to the bedroom door shutting. Oliver, she presumed, leaving for work. He seemed to be working all the time, leaving early in the mornings and often not returning until dusk. It was nice that he was putting in the effort for her, but she would have liked to see him from time to time. She’d have to have a word with him about that, when he returned. She was his wife, after all. She deserved to be his top priority.

It wasn’t easy for her to get out of bed. The covers were so warm and comfy, and the bedroom—still completely unfurnished save for the bed and a small box with a few changes of clothes—looked cold. But when she eventually forced herself to her feet, she found it wasn’t that cold after all. In fact, every day since she arrived it had been warm and, other than a couple of light drizzles, dry. They didn’t know everything about this planet yet, and Tash knew a lot less than the people in charge. It might have been the height of summer, and soon to cool off. Or it might have been the height of winter, with better weather to come.

Either way, she was going to enjoy the day.

She threw on a light cotton sundress, one of the few things she owned that were loose enough to hide her growing bump, and headed to the kitchen to find some breakfast.

The cook, convivial Comestine Argent, was busy cutting up a bird when Tash entered the room. Spatters of blood spangled the front of her apron. “Morning, Lady,” she said.

“Good morning, Mam Argent,” Tash said.

Stini held aloft the big kitchen knife in her hand. It was dripping with blood. “You’ll forgive me for not curtsying,” she said, “but I don’t like to make a mess more than I need to. It’s not easy getting bloodstains out of wood.”

Tash laughed. “You don’t need to curtsy for me anyway,” she said. “It’s old-fashioned.” But she did rather enjoy it. Still, she had plenty of staff here. She wasn’t really sure what Oliver had done, but he’d come home one day, a few weeks before they boarded the Eia, to tell her that he’d made her dreams come true. They were going to have a fine house, and the finest household staff. That was the day she’d conceived, so he really had made all her dreams come true that day.

She looked at the dead bird, which seemed rather sorry for itself in half a dozen pieces. “Where did that come from?”

“Sharp brought it in this morning. I guess someone found game nearby,” Stini shrugged. “And about time, too. I can only do so many things with the dross we get from the ship’s stores. At least this meat’s fresh. Pardon me for being frank, Lady, but the food the reeve picks out is not fit for a woman of your stature.”

All of a sudden, her appetite was gone. The bird lying dead in her kitchen had been alive and well just hours ago. It had probably never seen a human before. To Tasha, that was patently unfair. She had to get out. Walking through the door into the hallway, she collided with Nickie, the young kitchen assistant. Poor Nickie tumbled to the ground, clutching her shoulder and still having the grace to apologise for getting in the way. Tasha ignored her.

Emmy—the taller of Tasha’s two housemaids, with a cheery face and twisting blonde locks hanging down from dark roots to sit on her shoulders—had appeared on the stairs, wasting no time in getting there to scrub the banisters. She pressed herself tight against the wall so Tasha could get past. “Uh, Lady, I—”

When Tasha turned back, she saw Emmy red-faced with embarrassment. “Something the matter, Emmy?”

Emmy shook her head. “No. Sorry to disturb you, Lady, only Goodwife Mabeth asked me to let you know. She’ll be late to the house today, and Miss Eva too. They’ve gone to worship.” Mabeth Calder was an old owl, a woman who’d spent many a year in service to Tasha and her family. She’d been the close companion and leal ladiesmaid of Aunt Danyer, for as long as Tasha could remember. When Aunt Danyer passed away, her brother—Tasha’s father—had inherited Goodwife Mabeth. Quite what bargaining Oliver had driven to persuade Father to part from Mabeth was unclear, but Tasha wished she’d been present for that conversation. It would have been entertaining, no doubt.

Goodwife Mabeth was passing religious, Tasha knew, just like her Caerlin masters. She very seldom went to the church, but then Lightness Pollatelne was dry and dreary, and Lightness Gilkes before him was a tyrant. Attendance at church had always been abysmal. It hadn’t always been that way, but six years of war had left half the town dead and made faithless men of the rest—or so Goodwife Mabeth said.

“You don’t need to be so red, Emmy,” said Tasha, to the blushing girl. “It doesn’t go with your dress.”

Emmy went even redder, and Tasha left her. The stairs, as yet just bare wood, wound around the hallway three times, each time stopping on the landing of another floor. Tasha had her chambers on the second of these floors, above the staff accommodation. Only her ladiesmaid, Sesala Roe, had rooms on the same floor as Tasha. She was expected to be available at Tasha’s whim, so it made little sense for her to be roomed a flight of stairs away. Tasha had never been to the top floor, nor would she. Oliver had been quite plain on that. It was his private workplace, and Lieutenant Sharp had strict instructions not to let anybody up there—Tasha included.

She found Sesala Roe in the second floor hallway. As her ladiesmaid, Sesi was her personal confidante. Her uniform was a sheath dress in a deep forest-green, with a white band on the collar, pouffed out with a broad petticoat. While the rest of the household staff were given a black uniform common to all families, the ladiesmaid’s attire was expected to match the colours of the family mark. It was supposed to reflect the fact that she was the personal property of the woman of the family. There were some who called it slavery. To them, Tasha could but scoff. Sesi was paid a fair wage and she was free to leave at any time.

Sesi seldom smiled, but something about her made Tash feel always at ease. It was like there was a hidden smile locked behind those dark eyes, invisible but so definitely there. She liked to wear her hair tightly bound in a ponytail that she pulled round to fall in front of her shoulder, framing a face the shape of an ochre heart. Not today. Today, her hair was loose.

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Tash made to walk past Sesi, but the maid got between her and the door. “You can’t mean to go out like that, Lady,” she said. “Come. Let me fix your hair.”

“Let it be,” Tash protested.

Sesi put her hands on her hips. “I cannot, Lady. It’s my job.”

And so Tash found herself back in her bedroom, staring out of the empty windowframe while Sesi wrestled with her hair.

“You’re very quiet this morning, Lady,” Sesi said, roughly pushing through a tangle. “It’s unlike you. Are you feeling well?”

Tash nodded. “I’m fine, Sesi.” She didn’t feel like going into the matter of Tema. That could wait for another time.

“Perhaps some breakfast. You’ll be better prepared to face the day after some food.”

“No.” She hadn’t meant it, but Tash knew she’d raised her voice. Sesi froze up, her brush still painfully wrapped in Tash’s hair. She was suddenly incredibly aware of every bristle that rested on her scalp.

After a few seconds, Sesi carried on brushing Tash’s hair as if nothing had happened. “You have lots of tangles today, Lady, you should wash for longer.”

“The only running water’s on the ship, Sesi,” Tash said. “I’ve not been able to shower.”

Sesi nodded. “Of course not. No matter. Your hair is looking perfect now.” She moved to the other side of the wooden chair Tash was sat on, and crouched down in front of her. “Just a touch of make-up before we’re done.”

Tash shook her head. “Not today, Sesi, if you don’t mind.”

The ladiesmaid studied Tash’s face for a while, holding the stare, her blue eyes fixed on Tash’s. Then she stood up with a broad smile. “You are plenty beautiful without it.”

Outside the window, Tash could see the valley, scores of people hard at work turning it into an urban pit. Three young children weaved between the workers, laughing and screaming at one another as they ran. Some of the wealthier families that had paid their way into the colony had children already, who they had brought with them, and Oliver had mentioned something about a ballot for the less well-off. There had been concerns, he’d told her, that the nearly twenty-year gap between the youngest colonist and the oldest child born on the planet would cause issues further down the line. The solution was to bring a small number of children along to bridge the gap.

She wondered if those children were really happy. They hadn’t asked to be uprooted from their lives and transplanted across the universe. They’d been bargaining chips to ensure their parents got their own wishes, nothing more.

At least her child would be born here. He or she wouldn’t have to leave behind their friends and their home, not if they didn’t want to.

“Am I doing the right thing, Sesi?”

“Lady?”

“This is no place to raise a child, is it? Nothing’s finished, nothing’s properly built. We’re all just pretending to be pioneers. There were animals here before we came, and all we’ll end up doing is destroying them so we can keep pretending.” She could feel that she was crying, though she was trying desperately hard not to. She rubbed her face dry. It was a good job she hadn’t let Sesi do her make-up.

Sesi knelt beside Tash and squeezed her hand. “Lady, this is a good thing you’re doing. Life is the greatest gift you can give.”

“Even if my child won’t have basic comforts? There’s not even any running water.”

“That will come soon. By the time your child is born, this will be as much home as anywhere else ever was. But why measure your child’s worth by the amenities they enjoy? Humankind made do for thousands of years without even one of our modern comforts.”

That wasn’t the point, though. Tasha wasn’t an ancient human, and her child wouldn’t be either. They were modern people. She and Oliver had done so much to make sure any children they had would grow up in absolute luxury. What was all that for if they couldn’t guarantee the luxury would exist? Perhaps she should have stayed at home, in the house with so many boarded-up rooms. Everything was so much better than it was here.

But Tema was here. She’d missed her sister so much during their estrangement. Fate had brought them together again on this world. If she’d stayed at home, she might never have seen Tema again. She’d have died an old woman, wondering if Tema ever still thought about her.

And now she could die knowing Tema couldn’t abide her.

She left for the hospital with Sesi following on close behind. As she passed by the kitchen, she found herself taken in by the smell of a bird being cooked. The thought of its taste made her mouth water. She didn’t feel sorry for the bird anymore. It was a lucky creature. A death to make her lunch better was a worthy death indeed.

Upon arrival, the Eia’s landing ramp had been bolted into the ground, the ship’s huge door permanently opened. A faint trail of dried dirt ran up the middle of the ramp, where hundreds of passing feet had tracked it in.

Tasha had never liked being on the Eia. It was more a prison than anything. The whole way here, with nothing but the metal walls and the airtight doorways keeping her from an endless oblivion, she’d felt a growing anxiety. It trapped her. When she spoke to Oliver, he’d suggested they at least wait until their new house was completed before moving in. After all, they had a luxury stateroom to make the most of. But it wasn’t an option for her. The Eia was death, nothing less.

Since they’d moved into the house, a little over a fortnight after the Eia’s arrival, she’d refused to go back inside. And now here she was, back again. It was typical of Tema’s stubbornness that she’d have the hospital be inside the Eia.

“You’re tense, Lady,” said Sesi.

“I’m fine.”

“No. Your shoulders are all hunched up. You should relax, Lady.”

“I wouldn’t be so tense if you’d stop telling me to relax, Goodwife Sesala,” Tash shouted. She could feel her face flushed. What an arse she was! Sesi was just doing her job, she didn’t deserve to be shouted at.

But Sesi was smiling broadly. “There you go, Lady,” she said. “The tension is gone.”

And suddenly she realised that Sesi was right. Her shoulders hung loosely in place. She sighed, letting her face nuzzle into her chest. “I’m sorry, Sesi, I shouldn’t have yelled.”

Sesi shook her head. “No, Lady. You are the Lady of the household. It is your right to yell.”

They wandered the maze of corridors leading to the ship’s hospital, engaging in light conversation. Sesi seemed to hold herself back, always taking the time to phrase herself in a diplomatic manner, but she was good company nonetheless. She let Tash take the lead as they worked through a series of frivolous topics. Tash was rather taken with the yellow flowers that seemed to grow throughout the valley, but Sesi was less impressed—flowers weren’t really something that interested her, and in any case she disliked the colour yellow, so really she couldn’t care less whether they were celandines or winter jasmine or something different altogether. On the other hand, Sesi thought the little green birds with the pot-bellies and the mottled feathers that had followed them yesterday were adorable. To Tash, birds were just annoying flappy things that shat everywhere.

They carried their conversation as far as the hospital’s little reception area. It was a small waiting room, with a sterile feel that wasn’t quite disguised by the paintings hung up on all the walls. The content of the paintings didn’t help. They were all very much the same, severe portraits of serious-looking men and women who—judging by the labels underneath the pictures—had been important in the field of medicine once, many hundreds of years ago.

Tash supposed she should have remembered who the people in the paintings were. She had spent a year and a half at Raconesta, the most respected medical school in all of Belaboras. But she’d never been enamoured with the past. What was the point, when it was already done? Nothing she could ever do would have any bearing on what had already happened. And the people who were in the history books were probably stuffy old pricks anyway.

A round-faced woman with dark brown hair and eyes to match was sat behind a little desk, holding a pen loosely over a sheaf of paper. “Can I help you, Miss?”

“I’m here to see Doctor Caerlin,” Tash said. “Tasha Wrack.”

The woman rummaged through the pile of papers until she found the sheet she was looking for, then ran her finger down a list of names, stopping when she got to Tasha’s. “Doctor Caerlin’s with another patient at the moment. Would you like me to take you to her office?”

Tash nodded. “Please.”

The woman stood up and motioned to her to follow. She did, but when Sesi began to come along the woman stopped. “I’m sorry. I didn’t take your name.”

“Sesala Roe.”

“She’s my ladiesmaid,” Tash said. “She comes with me.”

The woman shook her head. “Not unless she has an appointment or she’s in need of treatment.”

“I have an appointment. That’s good enough, surely.”

“Sorry. That’s the rules, I’m afraid, Miss Tasha.”

Tash pursed her lips. It was absurd that she couldn’t bring her ladiesmaid in with her, and she had half a mind to make her feelings known.

“It’s quite alright, Lady,” said Sesi, ever dignified. Tash turned to see her ladiesmaid settling down on one of the hard chairs that lined the sides of the waiting room. “I’ll sit here until you are finished.”

The woman continued to apologise, even when they’d left Sesi and the waiting room far behind. “I’m very sorry, Miss, I know how much better it is to have company. There’s pressure from the Council, you see. They don’t think we’ve been doing enough to uphold the safety protocols. So we have to do everything by the book, you see, or—”

“There’s no need to wear yourself out grovelling,” Tash said, cutting the woman off. “You’re doing your job, I get that. But you’re really starting to irritate me. You know my husband’s a reeve? That makes me a lady of great standing. I don’t like irritants.”

“Sorry, Miss,” the woman said, then immediately covered her mouth.

Tash looked at her... and then she laughed. She wasn’t sure why she was laughing, but something about the situation had really tickled her, and even worse it seemed the more she laughed the harder she laughed. Her laughter itself was amusing her. The woman watched her with bewildered eyes for a few seconds, before gently chortling herself.

And just as suddenly as she’d started laughing, Tash stopped. Nothing funny had happened, and if anything her hysterics were an embarrassment. “Don’t apologise again.”

She could hear voices coming from a nearby room. A man was screaming something incoherent while a woman tried to console him with soothing platitudes. Judging by his screams, it didn’t seem to be working.

“Get some anaesthetics, Vi,” said a familiar voice. Tema, no mistake. A few seconds later, a scrape of a girl burst out of one of the wards, looked Tash in the eye, then squeaked and darted off out of sight.

“Viola’s like a mouse,” said the woman escorting Tash. It was a pertinent observation, she mused. “Come along, we’re not far from Doctor Caerlin’s office.”

Tash wanted to know what was going on. “I can hear her in there.”

“She’s busy. She’ll see you when it’s time.” The woman laid a hand around Tash’s waist, trying to pull her away from the half-open door to the ward. Tash slipped free and pushed the door fully open. Inside, she could see Tema, hair tied back out of the way, covered in sweat and blood. She was leaning over a man on a hospital bed covered in bloody bandages.

What happened to him? Tash wondered. His cries belied the pain he must have been in.

“No,” said the woman, appearing in the doorway beside Tasha. “I can’t have you wandering around.”

The man seemed to catch sight of Tash then, and he stopped his screaming. He fell silent as he looked at her. And then he pointed squarely at the doorway, directly at her. Tema turned to face her, as did a handful of other staff scattered around the room. In all, there were eight pairs of eyes staring at Tash then, and her face burned. She wasn’t used to having this much attention on her.

All of her attention was on the man in the hospital bed. His hand shook violently as he pointed at her. She could see his eyes were bloodshot, and the skin around them was yellowed and sunken. “Mama,” he said. His voice was hoarse, but the words were unmistakeable. “Mama, I see you.”

“It’s time to go, Miss.” The woman tugged on her shoulder, but she dug in.

The man cried out in pain, then returned to his lucidity. “Mama, he’s here. Don’t let him take me, mama. Don’t let the shadow-man take me.”

Tash let her eyes flick briefly away from the man, and in that instant she managed to lock eyes with her sister. Tema had a scowl on her face. “Go to my office,” she said, through thin lips. “I’ll see you there.” When they were little children growing up together, Tema had always been the bossy one. The fact that she was three years younger than Tasha hadn’t stopped her from making the commands, and Tash had learned that she had a powerful slap. It was always easier just to do what Tema wanted. But Tema hadn’t used that commanding tone since she was seven years old.

Reluctantly, Tash backed away. The woman tried to get a hand on her back and push her along, but she shrugged her off. “I can walk myself. You don’t need to push me.” She turned and started out of the door. As she left the ward, she heard the man crying out:

“Mama,” he yelled. “No, mama, come back. Don’t leave me. Mama.”

When the ward door was shut behind her, and his screams finally drowned out, she realised that she was crying.