Pantomime (27 page)

  "They have hard lives. No land to grow anything, no natural resources anymore. Used to be a mining village. Most make their livelihood trying to take things that are broken from the bigger cities and fix them to sell at a higher price. Many are not very good at it."

  "Ah." We reached camp, loaded our trenchers with a slop of lentils, carrots, peas, and bits of ham, and settled ourselves close to the fire to ward off the chill from the night air.

  Bil did not make his usual late-night pep talk, welcoming us to the town of Cowl. Candlelight glowed from his tent, but as I went to my cart to sleep, I thought I could hear hushed, angry voices. Frit had seemed upset the last few weeks and moved stiffly from more concealed bruises. She was always kind to me when I interacted with her, but I avoided her. She hadn't reported me, though she suspected who I was, but she could at any time. Marriage trouble could be one reason why Bil had lost his temper so at Mara, though that did not excuse it.

  I had the cart to myself that night. It was a rare freedom to undress without fear of someone seeing me. I took off the sweat-stained bandages around my chest and soaked them in water with a lump of lye soap. I scrubbed them, rinsed them, and then hung them haphazardly about the cart. I cleaned myself next. The skin on my chest stung horribly. I needed to stop tying the bandages so tightly.

  Hesitantly, I touched my chest. My breasts just fit into the palm of my hand now, warm and surprisingly heavy. Small by anyone's standards, but there was no mistaking what they were. They moved uncomfortably as I stretched and twisted, trying to see the rest of my body. I wanted a full-length mirror.

  My body, though still lean, had developed slight hips. My waist tapered inwards a bit, though the muscles of my abdomen were well-defined like a man's. Hair had sprouted underneath my arms and in a faint line on my stomach, leading to my nether regions. I investigated the oddest parts of me, trying not to feel uncomfortable. This was my body. I would have to get used to it. It was unlikely to change and I had already run away from a chance to change it, for better or worse. With a sigh, I rubbed some lotion onto the skin of my chest. I had finally bought new bandages, and I wrapped them around me, wincing. It was so tempting to leave myself unbound for a night.

  I tormented myself with questions. What would I have looked like, if I had allowed the surgery to go through? Would I actually have looked like a girl? What did Aenea look like without clothes? I entertained myself with the thought for a moment. I had only seen her in her performance clothes, but that was enough to spur my imagination.

  "Micah?" a voice called from outside. I started and swore softly under my breath. Aenea. Of course. Impeccable timing.

  "Just… Just a moment!" I grabbed a long linen shirt and put it on and jumped into a pair of breeches, thinking of Bethany's moustache to attempt to snuff my desire. I grabbed my half-dry bandages and looked around in a panic before stuffing them underneath Arik's old pallet.

  "Yes, Aenea? What is it? Is anything the matter?" I was nervous and my words came out curter than I meant.

  "Can I come in?" she sounded hesitant.

  "Y… yes," I said, heart hammering.

  She pushed open the door and ducked her head to enter. She had just washed and her hair fell about her face in half-dry ringlets. She took off her coat and wore nightclothes and a dressing gown underneath. She sighed and sat down on my pallet.

  "Are you all right, Aenea? It's late."

  "Well, yes. I could not sleep, so I bathed and took a walk along the beach. I saw your light." She smiled, though her eyes were shadowed. "Should I leave?"

  I swallowed. "No, of course not."

  I sat next to her, the straw of the pallet crunching beneath my weight. My stomach fluttered and I did not know what to do with my hands.

  "Is it strange, being in the cart on your own now?" she asked.

  "I miss Arik. Though I don't miss his snoring."

  She laughed. "Be kind. He broke his nose thrice."

  "True," I said.

  We lapsed into silence. I listened to her breathing, and the faint sound of the wind and waves outside.

  "I shouldn't let it get to me anymore," Aenea said, staring at the light of the gas flame on the trunk.

  I paused, waiting for her to elaborate. "Shouldn't let what get to you?" I asked, when she remained silent.

  "Almost falling," she whispered.

  I tried to block out the image of the parasol trailing to the ground, of the sight of her tumbling from the tightrope and her hand clasping it at the last minute. I could not.

  "I was so frightened for you," I said.

  She leaned against me, slightly. "I know. And the past few days, I felt all right. I thought it was nothing – just another almost-accident. Moving distracted me, and I was so tired at the end of the day that I fell into bed. But tonight, when I tried to sleep – I couldn't. I kept remembering it." She shuddered.

  I put my arm around her, worried that she would pull away. But she leaned into me, resting her cheek on my collarbone. I could feel the ridges of her strong shoulder muscles through the thin fabric of her dressing gown. I felt her breathing and heard her heartbeat, just as quick and nervous as my own. She tilted her head up toward mine–

  Her lips were warm and wet and soft. I sat there stiffly, my heart hammering in my ears. My own lips pursed hesitantly. Kissing a girl was very different from my awkward kiss with Damien. Aenea's arm wrapped around my neck and pulled me closer and her other hand rested on my ribcage, right below the bandages around my chest. I felt a stirring between my legs, and a hardening of my nipples. I tensed. She broke the kiss.

  "What's wrong?" she asked. "Should I not have…?" She chewed on the corner of her lip in a most distracting way.

  I shook my head. "I've… I've not done this much. I'm doing it wrong, aren't I?"

  She laughed softly, still close to me. "Not bad. Care to try again?"

  As she pulled me toward her again I briefly wondered who else she had kissed, and decided I did not care. Her lips were on mine again. I rested a hand on her cheek, silken and downy. Her hair cascaded forward and covered our faces. Dizzy with the scent of her skin, I moved forward and bumped teeth with her. She giggled, the sound echoing in my mouth. I cradled her face with my hands. Aenea twined a hand in my hair, the other resting on the back of my neck. I was surrounded by her smell – sea salt and sweet almond soap.

  The kiss lasted a moment, an age. We broke apart, and I smiled at her, dazed. Aenea laughed again at my expression. I blushed. I took her strong, calloused hand in my own, which was now nearly as rough as hers. I no longer had a lady's hands.

  "I'm rather new at all of this."

  The corners of her lips curled and she pulled away to look at me, sensing how overwhelmed I felt.

  "You've never had a female… companion?"

  "No."
Nor a male.

  "I find that surprising."

  I laughed softly, remembering how Mother dismayed at ever finding a match for me. "Why would you say so?"

  She leaned back on the pallet, drawing me down with her. She leaned her head on my shoulder and twined her fingers with mine.

  My face warmed. "Never thought I was much to look at."
As a woman,
I finished. It was not lying if I finished in my head.

  "You caught my eye when I first saw you."

  A warm glow kindled in my stomach. "When I was a bedraggled urchin spying on the circus and jumped into the air sixty feet above ground like an idiot?"

  "Yes. Especially when you were an idiot. You were very brave, to do such a foolhardy feat. I knew it meant you truly wanted to be here."

  "I do. I feel as if I belong here far more than I did in my old life. I can be more like myself, rather than the person my parents wanted me to be."

  She leaned on an elbow and looked down at me, her damp hair curling about her face.

  "May I ask you something?" I asked.

  "You already have." I made a face. She smiled. "But yes, you may ask me something else."

  "Have you had many male suitors?" I said, trying to be delicate.

  She raised an eyebrow. "Are you asking me if I'm some sort of trollop?"

  I sputtered. "N… no! You seem much more comfortable with all of this, so I thought maybe–"

  She held up a hand. "That's enough, that's enough! I take pity on you. I've had two other suitors in the past."

  Her mirth fled her face, and I realized I had brought up a very stupid topic of conversation. Moments after our first kiss and I was already quizzing her about past lovers. So stupid.

  "Only two, and neither of them were in the circus. The first was a boy from Niral named Petyr. I was only thirteen. We held hands and we snuck a kiss or two underneath the docks. He was sweet."

  "I never had that sort of childhood romance," I said. "I was far too shy to approach the girls, and they were likewise too shy to approach me."

  "That's a shame. The other one… well. I'll tell you of him another time." Her face closed but for the secrets swimming in her eyes.

  "I'm sorry," I said, feeling even more like a goof. Here I was, hoping to comfort and help her forget about nearly falling, and I only reminded her of more pain. "I shouldn't have brought it up."

  "It's nothing," she said, though she was feigning nonchalance. "Come here."

  My stomach roiled uncomfortably. I shifted closer. She pressed her lips to mine again and I responded. Our bodies did not touch, but I sensed the warmth of her skin, just an inch or two away. We remained like that for some time, trailing fingertips across faces and along necks, shivering. And then we curled together on the pallet and talked, the conversation meandering across many topics, learning more about each other, with me spinning still more lies but trying to weave in the truth as much as I could. Before our conversation trailed away and we fell asleep, I let hope flare within me that one day, there might not be a need for lies.

 
 

SPICES OF THE ARCHIPELAGO, Chef Siam Oakley

 

I thought I would faint at any moment.

  I staggered through the crowded main square of Sicion. It was market day. The merchants had set up their wares early and the first customers started to trickle through. It was so busy that I thought I'd be able to steal some food without being noticed. Nothing had passed my lips but rainwater from the gutter for well over a day.

  Even though it was not the largest city in Ellada, like Imachara, Sicion was still crowded. There was no room for a large market square. Instead, the market was vertical. Ten stalls could fit on each level, and a wide but rickety wooden staircase zigzagged up its side.

  Each level had a theme. The bottom layer had stalls of fruits and vegetables, mainly from nearby Girit, a oncelovely island whose emerald forests had been cleared for crops and orchards. The only way to emigrate to Girit was to promise its governor that your future was in farming. I had never been to Girit and, seeing how I killed every plant I came across, doubted I ever would.

  The second level was filled with meats from animals shipped from various colonies, like Byssia and Linde, and some of the smaller isles of the Archipelago. Fresh meat was expensive, as a lot of animals did not survive the journey across the sea; many of the animals therefore arrived pre-slaughtered and salted. The third level was full of spices, and smelled of tarragon, cinnamon, clove, thyme, and countless others. I sneezed.

  On the fourth level were the bakers. I could not resist the sweet, yeasty smells and stole a warm meat-filled pasty. I was more successful this time, pretending to peruse another stall's wares and reaching behind me when the baker was distracted with an order. I sauntered off and ate my prize as I explored. I could have eaten ten more just like it.

  The next level held clothes and jewelry from various countries, gorgeous things wrought from precious gems and metals mined in the far corners of the world. I fingered a long, airy green dress made of a fabric that was soft and cool to the touch. Why had my mother never bought me a dress like this? I would have actually liked to have worn it.

  It was all so overwhelming. My eyes feasted on fruits and vegetables of all colors, lingered on unfamiliar dead animals lying prostrate on wooden tables, and yearned for the brightly dyed clothing and intricate jewelry. My nose imbibed the odors of alluring and pungent spices, fresh meat and the acrid tang of blood, the yeast of fresh bread, and cloth dye. My ears rang at the cries of merchants, customers, and livestock.

  I found an unoccupied corner of the market and tucked myself into it, wedging my pack behind me, wondering what I should do next. I knew no one. No one knew me. It was a feeling both freeing and terrifying.

  Since I had nothing else to do, I spent the rest of that morning in the corner. It was a perfect vantage point to study people. I would watch them shop, haggle, argue, and exclaim over a bauble that caught their gaze. People of all ages, shapes and sizes passed by, barely sparing me a glance. If I turned around, then I could watch the shoppers on the bottom level scurrying to stalls or leaving. They looked so small and inconsequential.