Southeast of Delphi, Eganene

The whistle startled her, again. She jumped out of bed, put on her crappy shoes and lined up with the other children. She didn’t want to miss a chance to leave the carriage, not a second time. Sitting alone in the darkness reminded her too much of Billy’s closet. The wagon moved continuously, day and night, except when they stopped for meals. So she was only able to get out, do her business and eat, three times a day.

This was her fourth dinner stop. She had been scratching little marks on the side of the carriage to keep track of time, beneath the mattress line so no one would notice. One day was the same as the next, the endless hours passing in darkness. The soft sway of the carriage like a heavy narcotic. She’d needed the sleep, but enough was enough. Her sore knee and ribs didn’t hurt as much. Her black and blue had faded to yellow and green.

Every stop gave her a thrill of expectation, hope of a town or even a house, but so far there was nothing but forests. Maybe they were passing places when she was inside. There was no way to know. The temperature was still bitterly cold and without a destination, she couldn’t run.

“Jaks, Lenold, you two come with me,” Tonelle said, opening the door.

Bekka already had her hand up to block the brightness, but the evening sky looked grey, the color of Philly’s dirty snow. She focused on Tonelle, surprised at the change in her appearance. Tonight, the woman looked tired and worn. The skin beneath her eyes was puffy. Even her hair was messy, and the front of her dress was speckled with dirt and mud.

Bekka stood straight, waiting for directions. If Tonelle thought she didn’t move fast enough or wasn’t eager enough, she’d be left back. She couldn’t risk that. If she didn’t get out, she couldn’t escape. Plus, it was literally the only thing she had to look forward to.

Tonelle moved aside as the boys passed, her mouth pinched in a frown, “The rest of you stay here. We’ve some work to do before I want you girls outside. Ceril, you fetch some potatoes and an onion. Have them peeled and chopped when we get back. Carrots too, if we have any left.”

“Yes, ma’am,” she replied, heading to the back of the cabin.

Tonelle was already closing the door, so Bekka followed Ceril. As long as she didn’t have to gut small, furry animals, Bekka was more than willing to help with the meals. It was good to have something to do. She had too much time alone with her thoughts, too many hours to be bored out of her mind, scared, worried and stressed-out. Without purpose, time slowed, stretching out each and every miserable minute as long as it could last.

When she got the chance to be productive, she jumped at it. Helping out, she now had a vague idea of how to prepare the group’s meals. Ceril wouldn’t speak to her unless she asked questions, but Bekka had been working on her every day. It’d taken a lot of gentle questioning. The answers were usually terse and short, but at least it was something.

Bekka waited while Ceril found everything she needed, then sat on the bunk opposite and organized her thoughts. She had so much to ask, and it was hard to get the girl alone. They spent most of their day riding in the darkness, but there was always someone close.

She glanced back to see if Kat was watching them and was relieved to find that strange girl had climbed into her bunk. That was good. Everyone was more willing to talk when she wasn’t around. No one said much around Kat, even when she was sleeping.

Bekka smiled at the willowy girl, “Can I help with that?”

“Should say,” Ceril replied, her voice at odds with her face.

Ceril had classically Asian features, but her accent sounded like she was from the islands.

Ceril gestured to the vegetables she had collected, “If they don find anything else to add to the soup, then this be it. We better peel them all.”

“What about her?” Bekka asked, cocking her head back towards Kat’s bunk.

Bekka could see her back along the edge of the bed. She must have wrapped up her hair, because her long braids sometimes hung off the edge, the little beads clicking against the wooden supports. When they were moving, it sounded like a metronome, keeping time to the sway of the carriage. Now, only two strands dropped from above. The candle light caught the beads, making them glitter and glow. Bekka blinked, trying to get the light out of her eyes.

Ceril shook her head, “She not be helping us.” She handed Bekka a cutting board, a dull knife and two onions. “She be doing other things. And she cook it for us once we finish. Chop that up as small as you can. Jaks dislikes onions.”

“But what does she do?”

Ceril waved her off, “Not your business. She be here the longest.”

“But why doesn’t she talk to anyone?” Bekka asked, unable to drop the topic. Kat was so strange and completely unapproachable. “Why’s she on their side?”

“She not be on their side,” Ceril said, lowering her voice. “But she know what they do to us if we don’t do proper.” Handing Bekka a shriveled potato, she whispered, “She be with the last shipment, but no one bought her. Tonelle and Martin say she be special. They not sell her for less than they want. And Kat tells us that something awful happened last trip. We best be doing what they say.”

Bekka’s eyebrows rose, “Come on, you can’t believe…”

Ceril frowned, “I be telling you truth. Better to make market without them getting angry.”

“Orlenia?” Bekka asked, remembering what Tonelle had told her. “There’s no such place. There can’t be. Come on, Ceril, you know as well as I do there’s no market like that.”

The voice interrupted her thoughts and she shuddered. “There wasn’t, but there is now.”

Ceril shrugged, “Who knows? I hear the place be huge, thousands of stalls, thousands for sale. You might be sold to a house or something worse, there no be telling who will buy you. Still, it be better than some things. I hear stories about the towns up this way…”

“Oh, come on…,” Bekka started, but Ceril kept talking.

“The way I figure it, if Tonelle be happy, she maybe sell I to someone good. Lenold tells stories of what happens to the girls up here. You be lucky Tonelle found you instead.”

“Seriously? Lenold, too? Who are you guys so afraid of? Listen to yourself, Ceril. There’s no way that makes any sense.”

The girl shrugged, “I don’t know. I listen just as well as I can.”

Bekka couldn’t keep the edge out of her voice, “So you’re telling me you actually believe in Orlenia? And you want to get there?”

“Perhaps. I know not to ask, but I hope they sell we all together, maybe as a lot. I be hearing they do that sometimes when there be a good shipment. It makes the bidding higher.”

“Why would you want that?” Bekka asked, confused.

Ceril blushed, red bursts of color flowering her cheeks. She dropped her gaze, but her voice was strong, “I want to stay with Jaks.”

Bekka was dumbstruck, “But, Ceril, come on! You can’t mean it. You can’t tell me you believe this!” She choked on the words, her hands gripping the dull knife in her hand. “You’re…you’re just doing what she says, content to ride along is this godforsaken wagon to who knows where, with two lunatics who think they are going to sell you? All for a boy?”

She stared at Ceril, refusing to let her look away. “Think about it! There’s another option, you know? If you want to be with Jaks, it doesn’t have to be like this. She’s telling you lies, Ceril. It can’t be true. There’s no such thing. None of this makes any sense.”

The girl was shaking her head, her short, dark hair sliding across her face like a fan, “Maybe where you be from, but where I be a child, there be those poor unfortunates, and here those same.”

Bekka grabbed the girl’s knee. “Listen to me Ceril. I’m sorry for what you’ve been through, but you don’t have to do this. We can get out of here. I know we can. I’m sure my grandmother went to the police days ago. And these other kids, I’m sure there are people looking for them, too. There could be a man-hunt for us right now!”

“A man-hunt?” Ceril asked, drawing back.

“Yeah,” Bekka continued. “Who knows how many people are out there? I’m sure they have us all on Amber alert. And this wagon? They’ve got to be able to track that, even if Tonelle’s been keeping to the forests. It is just a matter of time.”

“No, it’s not,” the voice said, making her jerk.

Ceril looked at her with concern, her thin face losing what little color remained, “You be feeling well?”

Bekka squeezed her knee, ignoring the comment. This was the most they’d ever talked and she didn’t want to stop. How could Ceril believe what Tonelle was saying? “Don’t worry,” Bekka, said, “I’m sure they’ll find us. Think about the positive. Who do you want to see again? Who’s waiting for you to get back?”

The girl shook her head, letting her eyes drop. She was rolling the potato back and forth across her palm, fine wrinkles appearing on her smooth forehead.

“What?” Bekka asked, reading her expression.

She shook her head, trying to clear the colors that danced at the back of her vision. Wispy tendrils of light seemed to seep from the front of the cabin, reflected off Kat’s beads, the colors dancing along the thin bits of sunlight and dust that flickered from between the cabin’s boards.

Not again, she thought.

“I’m sorry, Ceril. I…I think you and Jaks are great together, ” Bekka managed. “I just think you would be even better away from these people. I mean…don’t you want to get back to your family? I’m sure they’re worried about you.”

The girl looked up. “My people, they be far, far away. So far away. Past all these lands to the west.”

“But still….”

She was shaking her head, “No Bekka. My family has lived like this. I live like this. I know this. I never be seeing them again. ”

Bekka’s hands stopped working, the smell of onion permeating the cabin and making her eyes water. Little lines of color twisted across her vision. She rubbed them away with the back of her hand.

“You can’t mean it,” she said at last. “You can’t. They told you to say that, told you to tell me these things.”

“Why would she lie?” the voice asked.

Bekka wished the voice would be silent. She thought she was talking to herself, but the voice sounded different than when she thought her own thoughts. It was like it, too, had a strange accent. It made her feel crazy, like there was someone else in her head.

Ceril ignored her and grabbed a potato. Using the sharpened back of the blade to start the peel, she tipped the blade forward while slowly turning it. The result was a swirling brown skin that snaked its way between her shoes. One peel after another followed as the girls sat in silence.

How could Ceril tell her those things with a straight face? And why would she lie? No one was around to hear them, not even Kat, not from where she was at the front of the cabin. The scariest part, Bekka thought, was that Ceril sounded like she believed what she was saying.

The voice in her mind sighed, “Because she does. You’re not home. This isn’t Philly anymore.”

“Jesus,” Bekka muttered under her breath.

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Ceril paused, “Who?”

Bekka shook her head, trying to focus. It was possible she was having a mental breakdown. The voice just kept coming back, like there was somebody in the back of her skull waiting to mutter something strange. It had been talking to her more and more since Billy’s basement.

The first time had been when he locked her inside. She wondered if it was something she’d made up to help her cope with the stress, some kind of imaginary friend to help her through the craziness. If it was, it was doing a pretty terrible job. It was disagreeable and contrary.

So far, she had pretended she couldn’t hear it, hoping that it might go away. It had to be the stress. But in the end, whether it was anxiety, a mental break down or something else, it didn’t really matter. She was hearing voices in her head.

“Voice, not voices. There’s just me.”

Ceril was looking at her strangely, “You be feeling all right, girl? Dinner be not long off. There be food to eat soon enough.”

Bekka shook her head. Her hair was greasy and gross. She grabbed another potato, “It’s not that. I’ve just been tired. This is all so crazy.”

Ceril nodded. “It be a strange thing, changing to a new place. I remember it, the difference of a new place, of new people. It not be easy.”

“No,” Bekka agreed, “That’s for sure. How long have you been here? With Tonelle, I mean.”

“I not be saying. She purchased I from the Masters in the fall time, but left I there. She took I after Herbstabend.”

“What is that?”

Ceril met Bekka’s confused look, “It be a holiday. Perhaps it be our tradition only.”

Bekka reached for her cellphone, to look up it up, and then dropped her hand. It was so strange how the muscle memory wouldn’t die. It felt like she was missing part of herself, her hand going for the phone, expecting it to be there, before she remembered that it was back in her apartment.

How was she supposed to know what was true? Everything Ceril was saying was strange, yet she could imagine the voice in her head nodding, as if what the girl was saying made perfect sense. She didn’t want to be crazy. She didn’t want to hear the voice.

The fact was she couldn’t make it stop. She tried, but the thing spoke whenever it wanted to.

“Only to help you,” it replied to the unspoken accusation. “You need to know what has happened.”

She didn’t trust herself to speak, so she bit her lip and finished chopping the onions, pushing the pieces into the wooden bowl the girl handed her. Maybe it wasn’t the stress, she thought. Could concussions make you talk to yourself, make you imagine weird colors in the light?

“You need to help yourself. See what you were meant to see,” the voice intoned.

“And what would that be?” Bekka replied.

Ceril looked up at her in surprise, “What? This?” She was holding Jaks’ knife by its handle. “It be a better knife. That be true.” The girl returned to her work. The pile of potatoes was gotten smaller, but there was still a lot left to do.

Bekka wiped a peel off her knife. How was she supposed to use this piece of crap? “Could you show me how to do that?” she asked, watching another long, brown skin swirl past the girl’s ankles.

Ceril nodded and passed her the knife and a new potato, “You never peel a potato before?”

“Um, not like you are doing it.”

In answer to Ceril’s raised eyebrows, she said. “We always had a potato peeler. It’s not as neat as the way you are doing it, but it’s easier.”

“Where did you get a potato peeler?”

“It was my grandmother’s.”

“You have it? It probably be worth something.”

Bekka looked at the other girl, “No. I didn’t exactly have time to plan any of this.”

“So you not be bringing anything with you?”

Bekka thought about her pendant. She had hidden it from Tonelle, but she didn’t have a specific reason not to trust Ceril. There really wasn’t any reason to trust her either.

The voice disagreed. “That’s our secret. Keep it hidden. Keep it safe.”

Bekka shook her head, answering Ceril’s question. “No, I didn’t bring anything. It all happened too fast. I woke up sleeping on a bench. Then that guy Billy sold me to Tonelle.”

“That be odd, sleeping on a bench,” the girl said. “You should be finding a nicer place to hide. Then, no one be bothering you.”

“I didn’t mean to sleep there. I don’t even know how I got out here.”

Out here? Where was here? Bekka slid her foot against the floorboards thinking. Why hadn’t she said, out there?

Ceril was silent, and Bekka wondered what she was thinking. The girl had taken the dull knife and was working on another potato. She glanced at her own handiwork and sighed. She was going to need a lot more practice before she was any good.

“Ceril?” she asked. “Don’t you miss them? Your family, I mean. Wouldn’t you go back to them if you could?”

“Of course, I miss them. But I be trying not to think on it much. My mother and brother are owned. I don know where my Master’s house be.”

Ceril frowned at her, “And if I went back? Then what? What the Master be doing to I? He never be letting me stay, not after I be sold.”

“But what about your…”

“Father?” she said, shaking her head. “I never met him.”

Bekka’s hand jerked involuntarily, her finger sliding down the sharp blade. A drop of bright blood welled. “Oh, ouch,” she stammered, “I…do you have anything I could…”

“Girl!” Ceril hissed, “look at what you done.” She jumped up and found a piece of cloth to bind the cut, “You be a silly girl not knowing how to use a knife.”

“I’m sorry, Ceril. I shouldn’t have asked about your parents. I mean…I wasn’t trying to pry.” She took a deep breath. After going this far, she might as well come out with all of it, “I…it’s just that I know about not having parents. I…never met my father. Or my mother either.”

“Of course you did,” the voice said, somehow managing to sound affronted.

The girl looked at her sadly. “No wonder you be so bad at this.”

Bekka started to protest, but was interrupted by Ceril poking her in the side with her elbow. “Now you listen. I be helping you, but you best be promising not to cut yourself. We need to get these done before they be finishing.”

Bekka took a deep breath, glad for the change in subject. “What are they doing out there? We usually all go out together. Not that I’m complaining,” she held up her hands. “If I never gut another bunny in my life, I’ll be thrilled.”

Ceril smiled, “It be not as bad as all that, but I be happy here, too. I think they be building the fires.”

“Fires? We need more than one?”

“That be my guess,” Ceril replied, her dark eyes on Bekka’s face. “Last time Tonelle took all the boys, that be what they did. I think there be animals in these woods. Things that not be liking the firelight.”

Bekka’s mind went into overdrive, National Geographic footage sweeping past in rapid shots of color and motion. What was out here? Bears? Wolves? What kind of predators lived in this area? Mountain lions and coyotes, but they didn’t usually go where there were people.

She twitched. Of course there were no people around here. Every time they stopped, they were in the woods, far from civilization. She hadn’t seen a single house or road since they left Philly. If there were larger predators around, this was exactly where they were going to be. “You haven’t seen any, have you?” Bekka asked, her voice high and thin.

Ceril shook her head, “No. We not be here long enough to let them get close. We rested for a few days before we stopped for you, but the horses be tired. I think we be needing to rest again. Maybe tonight. Maybe that be why we need the fires.”

“Can’t we stay somewhere else? Tonelle and Martin went into the city to get me. Do you think they will stop anywhere with people? A town or something?”

The girl lowered her voice further, “I know naught about their plans. We go south and we probably be on the ground for a long time. Tonelle be saying Orlenia be a long way away.”

“How long will it take to get to there?” Bekka asked, surprising herself with the question.

“Oh, I don’t know. Months? I hear it be very far south.” The girl’s narrow eyes were excited. “It be depending on the storms. I hear your questions and I try and help you understand. Either way, girl, there be plenty of time for we to get to know each other.”

Bekka felt her cheeks redden. “Ceril. Could I ask you a question?”

She nodded, picking up Jaks’ knife and starting another potato.

“I saw the tattoo you have on your neck.”

“Yes,” she whispered, “it be my mark, a sign of house and family. What be yours?”

Bekka shook her head, “I never got any.”

“You not be having one?” Ceril said, sounding strange.

“No,” Bekka said, remembering the argument she had about it just a few weeks ago. “My grandmother wouldn’t sign the papers, and in Philly they won’t let you go unless you’re eighteen. I was going to get one soon, though. My birthday is in a few days…. Actually, it might even have passed. I have no idea what day it is. Anyway, I hadn’t decided what I wanted yet.”

Ceril froze, her knife motionless in her hand. “You be choosing?”

Bekka was lost in her own world, the memories comfortable and safe. “Of course. There are all kinds of shops in the city. Some of my friends, the ones who graduated last year, got theirs in Fishtown, but some of the others went to Old City. I’m not sure if they are better in one place or the other.”

She didn’t notice the confusion on Ceril’s face.

“I’ve looked online at some of the different shops, trying to decide on an artist, but there is so much to choose from. I don’t know what the design is yet, so I’ve kind of just been looking at everything. I don’t want to just get something for the sake of having one.

I like your spot, though. I want to get it somewhere that everyone can’t…” Bekka stumbled to a stop, searching the other girl’s face, “What?”

Ceril seemed to chew on her words, her jaw working soundlessly as she looked at Bekka, “I not be hearing of choosing before.”

“You mean you didn’t pick?”

Ceril shook her head, her pale face growing whiter, “No. They choose when you be getting the mark. The moon be a symbol of my Master’s house. I mean, my first Master’s house.”

“God!” Bekka exclaimed, her mouth open in shock. “Are you telling me someone forced you to get that?”

The girl grimaced, her eyes unfocused.

“I…don’t know what to say. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. I…”

“It be fine. You not be knowing our customs. Jaks not be having a mark either. And anyway, I hardly be remembering the moment. It be a long time ago.”

How could she have gotten the mark a long time ago? No business in their right mind would tattoo a child. She couldn’t have gotten it in the US, but maybe on an island. “How old are you, Ceril? Is it OK if I ask? I’ve never met anyone who got a tattoo as a child.”

“Sixteen summers, give or take. I not be knowing the day of my birth.”

She didn’t know her birthday? She glared at the girl, “You’re messing with me, right?”

But Ceril wasn’t listening, she had a faraway look, her hands motionless in her lap. “That day, I remember my mother be holding I close in her arms. I be smelling the good smell of her skin, that she be smelling like home. She be holding I in her arms and I only be seeing the metal once. It be thin and long, be curving at the tip and wide at the base so the Jsi be holding on to it.”

“When I saw it, the tip be glowing an orange red, like someone took a tiny piece of sun and fastened it to the end. It be beautiful until the pain start.”

“That’s horrible!” Bekka declared, her stomach dropping.

Ceril shrugged, “It not be a good memory, you be right, but I like to think of my mother. Of her holding I. That be making it good in my mind.”

Bekka shut her mouth. How could she judge Ceril when she didn’t even have memories of her own mother to compare them to? What was she supposed to tell her was a normal mother-daughter relationship? She didn’t even remember her mother outside of the pictures her grandmother had given her.

“Remember. You must remember. You will remember.”

“You be sad,” Ceril said. “I not be meaning to make you so.”

Bekka’s shoulders rolled inward, her belly tightening, “I’m sorry I said anything about it. Honestly. I…it is just so hard to explain. Everything is just really new to me, Ceril. I’m sorry you had to tell me about your parents and about the tattooing. I shouldn’t have been prying.”

She took a breath, “I was just asking so I could know more about you, but I’m sorry. Really. No one should have to go through something like that. They shouldn’t have to remember it or tell it. I…can I say thank you? Would that be weird? Because I appreciate that you told me. I know what it’s like to miss my parents. I wish I had gotten a chance to know them as anything other than memories.”

“You did. You do. I know you hear me.”

“Who raised you?” Ceril asked.

“Listen!”

Bekka jumped up, looking around wildly. It was all too much, the voice in her head, this crazy trip she was on, her apartment, her asthma attack. Was this all some messed up dream she was having, some kind of horrible hallucination?

Ceril put a hand on her shoulder. The weight was grounding, warm and real.

Bekka took another breath, hoping the voice would stay silent. “I lived with my grandmother,” she said, trying hard not to get emotional. The lanterns seemed to flare, the glow of the candlelight seeping into the air in wisps of red and orange.

Ceril’s eyes softened. “It be hard. She passed.”

“No, we were separated. There was an accident, some kind of gas leak or something where we lived. Then I got sick.”

“I be sorry,” Ceril whispered. “It be hard to lose those you love.”

Bekka felt tears on her cheeks, but refused to wipe them away.

Ceril didn’t comment on them and after a while they continued as they had been, taking turns with potatoes as the minutes ticked by, one after another. The silence helped her to get back under control.

“Ceril?” she said, bracing herself. She wanted to ask. She needed to ask. To hear someone say it, to look them in the face and hear their words, not in her head, not with some strange voice only she could hear, but out in the air. Out where she could examine it and see if it was true.

She swallowed, “Are you really telling me that you believe all this? Seriously? You actually believe you are owned and that I… that I am, too?”

The girl put down the last potato and took Bekka’s hands. They were wet from the potato juice, but warm and tangible. “I be sorry. I be knowing you want to hear different. But it be what it be.”

They sat without talking for a few minutes, just looking at each other. Bekka had never done that before, never stared someone down. She waited for the break that would confirm her suspicions, which would prove that Ceril had been lying to her.

The voice spoke again, sounding stronger, more confident. “Ask her. Ask her and hear her. You must know. You must see.”

Ceril didn’t look away. She blinked, blinked like a normal person would blink, but she didn’t look away. She didn’t hide.

Bekka believed her. Maybe not everything, but she believed Ceril had told her the truth. The truth as she saw it, anyway. They sat in silence for a few more minutes until Bekka dropped her gaze.

Ceril went back to work. Bekka looked at the carriage lanterns. It occurred to her that she had never actually seen old fashion lanterns before. The light reflected off the glass strangely, seeming to go further than it should. Was that why she was seeing those colors, those thin wispy lines that seemed to come out of nowhere?

Ceril saw where she was looking. “There be mirrors in there, on the base. That be why the light goes so far.”

“Ahh,” Bekka managed, although she didn’t really know what the girl was talking about.

How could what she said be true? Bekka shook her head, trying to deny it all, but deep down she could feel something growing. She was actually starting to believe all this.

“Come on out,” Tonelle called, startling them both.

Kat hopped off the bunk in the front. Ceril grabbed the bowl, both kids hurrying to get to the door as fast as possible. Bekka wasn’t far behind.

“Good, you’re all set. We got the fires burning, but we’re going to need some more wood. Horses need a rest. We’re going to wait until midmoon to move on.”

Bekka tapped Ceril on the back.

“Middle of the night,” the girl responded under the breath.

That was new. It seemed like the wagon was always rolling at night. Perhaps Ceril was right and the horses were tired. If they were camped out here longer, then maybe she would think of a plan, some way to get enough supplies to sneak away.

First, she needed to get out of the wagon and see if she could find somewhere to run to. In the dark, she would be able to see lights in the woods. If there was a house or cabin close enough, she would make a break for it. She eyed the tattoo on the back of Ceril’s neck, wondering if she should ask her to come.

Ceril had been the most open with her. And if Jaks came, then there would be three of them. Tonelle and Martin would be more likely to notice them missing, but they would have a better chance of making it. Both Jaks and Ceril knew more about survival than she did. And she couldn’t just leave them there.