“What? No.”

The housekeeper gave me a shrewd look. “The lady sends her deepest apologies, but she only requires a handful of assistance in her winter estate.”

”But… I…”

“Perhaps next season, the lady will be generous enough to consider allowing you the privilege of her employment once more.” Based on the pinched, sour look on the housekeeper's face, that didn’t seem likely.

“I don’t understand. I’ve been on time every day, stayed late when the lady has hosted gatherings… what did I do wrong?” I was at a loss—and sure, I was probably tailspinning a bit, but I desperately needed this job.

“You’ve done nothing wrong, my dear.” Again, the housekeeper's expression belied her assurances. “It’s simply a matter of logistics. There’s just not much work to be done at the estate, and the lady does not run a charity.”

“I—“

“Miss Serryn, I would choose my next words carefully.” The woman's eyes turned to slits, appraising me even as she warned me.

She was right. Her reasoning brooked no argument. I wasn’t going to persuade her into keeping my job—even while the laziest, most stuck-up, vapid little maids packed their bags and prepared for the journey to Lynheim, where Lady Grey’s winter estate was located.

But it wasn’t fair.

I’d stooped low, ducked my head and been the submissive, pleasant, perfect little lady’s maid that the housekeeper so desired. I’d swallowed rebukes when her and her cronies had humiliated me, dumped extra work into my lap, chided me for mucking up the washing while their own hands were brown with dirt. I wasn’t going to take this injustice lying down.

“Don’t pretend that Lady Grey had anything to do with this decision,” I snarled, my lip curling as my rage brewed. “Everyone knows that you’re the one running this household, and you run it about as well as a corrupted lord would. You surround yourself with the only maids that will preen and bow to your illusion of power, and shun anyone who so much as looks at you wrong. I’m sorry that apparently, my work ethic wasn’t up to your own glowing standards, but I’m even more sorry that Lady Grey has a snake running her household.”

The housekeeper's face was stark red, her thin lips just barely parted in surprise. I took what little satisfaction I could in that; I may be begging on the street tomorrow, but remembering the shock on the face before me would stave off the hunger for a bit.

Unfortunately, she recovered quickly enough; I apparently wasn’t the first in her employ to bite back. “It seems you’re not concerned with returning to the household in the summer season, and you’ve handily erased any measure of guilt you might have been able to conjure in me for this unfortunate turn of events. I might have been able to recommend you for a position in another household, but you’ve had no qualms in erasing any goodwill you’ve built in the lady’s employ. I’m sure that other housekeepers would be dismayed to hear of this.”

Fuck. My heart dropped to my stomach. In my rage, I’d forgotten just how much influence maids and housekeepers had on each other. It was like one big, annoying clique, and one I was clearly not welcome in.

Good riddance, I tried to assure myself. I forced my chin up high. “Fine with me. I’d rather die than work in another household like this one.”

"Have it your way," the housekeeper sighed. "Wait a moment and I'll fetch your final wages," she said as she turned towards her desk. "Though with your attitude, you may as well have forfeited it."

She'd mumbled the comment under her breath, but it was clearly meant for me to hear. I had to clench my teeth and send my gaze to the ceiling to keep myself from rising to her bait.

By the time she had collected my wages—no more than a measly handful of coins—I'd mentally detached myself from this place. I was determined to turn around and walk out the servants' door and never look back. In my mind I could see the walls of the estate crumbling down around me as I left, never to exist again.

The coins were warm in my hand, and I clutched them to my chest. The housekeeper opened her mouth, as if to leave me with some parting wisdom, but I bowed quickly before she could speak and turned on my heel. I didn't want to hear what she had to say. I'd be better off without it.

But when I stepped outside, the stale air of the city slapped me in the face. Lady Grey's manor was on the outskirts of the noble district, and on a summer afternoon like today, it was easy for the stench of the lower districts to blow through the alleys and cobbled streets. I could hear an infant crying, church bells ringing in the distance, merchants hawking their wares and, further away, street folk begging for spare coin.

Fuck.

Despite all my bravado, I was right back where I had started two seasons ago, and not much better off for it. Still renting a room in the Fetids with Laslow. Still no prospects. Definitely no prospects, now that I had burned my bridges in the noble districts.

As I turned towards the lower districts and started for home, I had to tell myself that it was worth it. I would rather die than work in a manor again, right? I pictured the house maid's bright red face, her lips pressed thin in outrage. Would that sustain me, when I went to bed hungry?

I was already dreading giving Laslow the news of my recent unemployment. Predicting my own impending shame on how the situation played out wasn't going to make me feel better. It wasn't that he'd be mad at me—that would almost make things better. He'd be upset, we both would, but his grim determination to find another way to make ends meet was something I didn't think I could stomach again. He reminded me of a fly on a window, buzzing incessantly against the glass, as if sheer will and applied force would melt the surface and grant freedom.

If Larseat had any lesson to give, it was that hard work and determination didn't get you far.

The smell of carrot pies and thin parsnip stews assaulted my senses as I crossed into the lower districts. The street markets were on the fringes of the neighborhoods, so that any maid or—Gods forbid—noble from the more affluent parts of town that ventured here for food or wares could be in and out as quickly as possible. Though what they came here for was lost on me. The wares on offer reflected the abject poverty of the area—stuff was cheap, but hardly well-made. Still, the coins clenched in my hand were cool against my palm, and the smell of vegetables made my stomach rumble. If I was going to deliver bad news, I may as well bring supper to soften the blow.

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By the time I was nearing the Fetids, bearing less coin and more pies to show for it, the sun was beginning its slow descent, dipping below the high walls of the city gate and casting the shanties in deep shadow. Red lights were already flickering on in brothels, minstrels tuning their instruments in taverns. A block away I could already hear a pack of drunkards singing nursery songs at the tops of their lungs, replacing the rhymes with lewd analogies.

I turned toward the sunset—I'd been walking away from it, my own shadow stretching out before me—and observed the pale blue of the day leech away, transformed into fiery orange and yellow. If I looked up higher, I could already see the dark hues of night encroaching on the remaining sunlight.

The Mother sees all, from sunup to sundown.

I said a quick prayer—for the night, the city, the mess I'd gotten myself into, everything—then turned back to finish my trek home.

Laslow was seated at the table when I came in, the pad of his first finger tracing patterns into the worn wood grain. His eyes flashed up to mine, then the pies in my hands, and he sat up from his slumped position.

“You’re home early,” he said, pulling himself up to his feet. There was no malice in his tone, but I felt defensive regardless.

I turned to bolt the door shut behind me, shielding myself from making eye contact with my brother. “Long story. How were the guild halls?”

Laslow’s grimace when I turned back was answer enough. I held the sigh in my lungs and crossed the room to set the pies on the table. “Wash up. This is likely the last good meal we’ll have for a while.”

“You’re sacked.” His voice was thick with flat disbelief.

I finally turned to face him. “Yep. Grey’s moving out to Lynheim for the season.”

“And you’re not going with her.”

I chewed on the inside of my cheek. “No.”

Laslow did sigh then, a hand raking through his mop of ash-blond hair. “Will you go back to the Nobles, then? Work in another estate until she comes back?”

My hands began to tremble very slightly, and I clasped them tightly in front of my maid’s apron. “We should eat.”

“Serryn.” The exasperation from him was nearly tangible.

“It wasn’t exactly a conversation that ended well, okay? I don’t see the use in rehashing the whole thing for your amusement.” I could feel my temper rising for the second time that day, and for the second time that day I didn’t care.

“Trust me, I’m far from amused. But I also know it’s not your fault. I’m not mad at you, so please don’t be mad at me.” Laslow’s eyes were pleading, beseeching—that damn puppy dog look. My temper quelled itself, the reason in his words coming to the forefront.

“You’re right. I’m sorry, Laslow,” I said, then stepped forward to close the space between us and take his hand.

Laslow just smiled back at me, no hard feelings; we hardly ever fought or argued for long. "We're both just stressed and worried about the same thing."

"Yeah," I conceded. Laslow was always better at this stuff than I was. He took a seat at our table and dragged a pie towards him, so I followed suit.

"Speaking of," I said as I tore into the crust, "how was the guild hall?"

Laslow shrugged. "Fine. I went back to visit one of the scribes today, and one of them mentioned his son is leaving—going to Saghara, seems like. So he said to come back next week, and he might have an apprenticeship for me. We'll see."

"That's promising," I said around a mouthful of soggy carrots. Apprenticeships didn't pay much, but since skills in writing and transcribing were rare in the Fetids, it was the best prospects he had, and paid better than anything he could find around here.

Saghara, though. The name gave me pause. "Did he say why his son was leaving?"

Laslow just shrugged, licking thin gravy from the pad of his index finger. "Just said he'd be gone, something about the gates opening. He didn't really seem forthcoming about the whole thing, and I didn't want to push it." He took another bite, the burnt edge of the pie crust making a soft crunch in his mouth. "Why do you ask?"

I cast my eyes down to the table. "No reason."

The next day I spent jumping from district to district, loitering in neighborhood squares and hoping to hear of job postings. I'd walk up and down market streets, inquiring with stall owners if they were looking for help, asking the more affluent-looking customers if they needed someone to carry their purchases home for them. The longer I stayed out, though, the worse my luck was, until I'd all but given up and considered returning home. Laslow had returned to the guild hall, hoping to find a day or two's work to earn a little coin before the scribe was ready to take him in. Blacksmiths looking for someone to break ores, artists seeking a model to sit for them—it was short work, but we needed every coin we could find. I'd tried my hand at looking for work there, but Laslow always seemed to have better luck than me, and was oddly territorial about his claim there.

As the day rolled on, I looked up and realized I'd make my way halfway across the city—the Fetids were on the outer rim of Larseat but I'd nearly reached the city center. Seat's Keep, the castle where the king of Lars and his family resided, was just a few blocks north of the square I was in, smack dab in the middle of Crescent District.

Though the general rule was the closer you got to the city center, the richer and nobler the districts got, Crescent District was the exception, a small sliver of land just south of the castle. It was little more than a gaggle of old houses and shops. Rumor was that years ago, the district had been the seat of mystics. Magic users of all types took up residence and filled the streets with apothecaries and fortune shops. When magic had been outlawed, the place was forcibly cleared out by the city guard, killing most of the residents and displacing the rest. Even now, the district was considered condemned, undesirable, and only the very poor or very desperate dared to live there, squatting in abandoned buildings.

Despite the taboo, the Crescent's square was surprisingly lively—and not unlike the Fetids, with just a handful of merchants selling only the necessities, like food and clothing. I could spot a older woman with a stall of crystals and herbs for sale, but that was it. Beggars were strategically sprinkled throughout the market area, trying to gain a coin of sympathy from anyone passing by.

There wasn't any work to be found here. I made to turn around and head back to the Outer Districts, but when I got closer to the notice board on the edge of the square, a paper caught my eye.

EXPEDITION TO SAGHARA

TRAVELERS WANTED - STIPEND PROVIDED

The notice provided an address, somewhere nearby, but no further information. A small doodle of a castle with three spires jutting out like a trident along the top of the paper was the only other marking. I tried my best to commit the flyer to memory.

I didn't even know why I was paying the notice any attention. Saghara was dangerous—extremely so. If Crescent District was condemned, then Saghara was damned. Crescent District was just a sliver of land in a capital city, but Saghara was an entire kingdom, vast and unnknowable, and every inch of it cursed. To enter the kingdom was suicide, but every year, hundreds of adventurers flooded in, in the hopes and fortune would await them by pillaging the ruins.

Stipend provided. That could mean anything. Would this mystery employer be providing supplies? Simply giving advance payment in the hopes that these adventurers could bring back something of value? I read and reread the address, took a cursory glance around the square.

This was a stupid idea. No way could I venture into Saghara. But a stipend was the only promise of coin I had come across all day.

The sun was still high in the sky, past noon but not yet dusk. I had time before Laslow would return home from the guild hall, and the idea of returning to our empty room made me grimace.

I glanced down the alley that led to the address listed on the notice. My bottom lip drew between my teeth.

It wouldn't hurt to inquire, would it?