EPIC: Fourteen Books of Fantasy (52 page)

One day later, Mother and I received a visitor.

Mr. Corgastor was a representative for Borrelia’s Land Law. He lived in Juxon City but was responsible for keeping track of the rentals and sales of houses and land in our area. He was stiff, snobby, and certainly a man used to having money.

‘I have a document here that you both need to address.’ He cleared his throat and pulled out a roll of parchment that crackled as he unrolled it. When he spoke, he pronounced each vowel as if his tongue played with a sugar cube. ‘The King of Juxon City, Greenax, Phreet, Secky, Ayo, Borrelia, Port Assania, and one half of the border towns, hereby passes the Land of Garrad of Borrelia to his daughter, Adenine of Borrelia. She may occupy the land until her life has passed and her sons take up the land either as a whole or divided.’

I wasn’t quite sure what he meant, but it was clear that Mr. Corgastor thought Garrad, my uncle, was my father. Word must have found its way to Juxon City; Mother’s lie had become authentic.

‘Garrad was a self-sufficient, honest man, as I hear it. He claimed the land some time ago and worked the soil until the land could be farmed. This has made the property valuable and as a result has a sort of title that Garrad registered years back. The girl is obviously in no state to occupy a self-contained property in the forest. So if you both wish, we can rent the land out for you, and you’ll receive a percentage, or we shall buy it from you outright.’ He sniffed and took a loud sip from a cup of tea Mother had given to him.

‘I think this is a matter I need to discuss with Adenine alone,’ Mother said.

‘Very well,’ the man said.

Mother took my arm and led me into her bedroom. She closed the door behind us. ‘Adenine, isn’t this exciting? This is a good opportunity. I’ve heard of people owning property and then leasing it out to others for a generous sum. We could use the hill shack to earn extra coin.’ She clapped her hands and then placed them on either side of my face.

I pushed her hands away. ‘I don’t want his house. I don’t want anything to do with
him
.’

‘You mean your uncle? But he’s dead now. I know what he did to you was bad but…’

I didn’t want the memories to resurface. I didn’t want anything of him to remain in my life. The guilt, the shame, it was all too much, and I would spend the rest of my life paying for it. I needed to forget
him.
‘Please.’ I couldn’t hide the desperation from my voice.

She sighed. ‘We’ll sleep on it. Tomorrow, we’ll talk more.’

I knew I wouldn’t change my mind. I would never visit that place, that fiend’s lair where he must have conspired and plotted to hurt me.

Mother put her hand on my shoulder. I shrugged it away. She didn’t care. She just wanted her own happiness.

‘This is painful for you, but you must separate childhood from your adult years. Become the person you value, not the person you fear.’ She wheeled out of the room.

I banged my walking stick against the floor more forcefully than usual as I followed. Mother asked several more questions, and we discovered that the man was staying at the local tavern.

‘I will come here mid-morning ‘morrow then for your final decision,’ he said and left.

That night, I said as little as possible, not wanting to offend or upset Mother in any way. If I kept her in a good mood, she might agree with what I wanted—for Garrad’s property to be sold.

Jemely visited, and while I was up in my attic playing with Butter, she came upstairs to play speaker for Mother. ‘Adenine, Garrad’s place will be
yours
. We can go there and camp and fish, living near the mountains. It is only three hours walking from here. It’s autumn still, which means it’s warm and the birds are still singing, the rivers flowing, the flowers smelling all pretty like. You love that. You know ya do.’

My heart thudded in my chest. I wanted to take an axe to my uncle’s house. I wanted to chop down every tree he’d ever loved, every bush, every flower he’d ever laid eyes on. As I got older, I realised his wrongdoings were the sort that I would never forget. Ever.

The next day, I only caught the end of Mother’s meeting with Mr. Corgastor. She had never intended to part with the hill shack and had only wanted to delay my anger. I sat on the top of the first floor stairs and listened as she informed him that we would keep the hill shack and rent it out.

When the man left, Mother talked excitedly with Jemely. ‘We could get an extra two gold a month. What a blessing for us.’

‘What will you buy, Capacia?’

‘Well, we have land now. It will take time for people to dwell in it. Maybe I can teach Adenine to ride a horse. My husband loved to ride. He would approve of that. You could ride too, Jemely!’

‘Of course! Capacia, gosh, you truly are a most generous woman,’Jemely cried.

Their happiness did not touch me. The dark cloud that had settled in my mind thickened. Betrayed. That was the only word I could use to express how I felt. Mother knew what my uncle had done to me. Varago knew… and Jemely, I bet she knew too. Yet they didn’t care how it tore me up inside. I would have nothing to do with Mother and Jemely and that stupid property. I would eat nothing bought with the rent money.

Why did Mother hate me so much? Why weren’t my feelings worth more to Mother than money and trips to Juxon City and horses and carriages? It was all for bragging and posing.

The next morning, Jemely was late. Mother washed my hair, and in her high spirits, she allowed me to walk to school alone. I secured my bonnet and blindfold and decided that instead of going to school, I would walk to Frooby’s house. He’d been sick for a week, and I was worried about him. Jemely and I had practiced walking to Klawdia’s house alone at least three times a week to get Butter used to the town. Frooby’s place was just beyond Klawdia’s, so I knew I could get there alone.

An older lady helped me to find the edge of the farm. I offered her ten coppers for her trouble, but she refused them, saying I was a sweet girl, and she was happy to help.

I removed my boots, dug my toes into thick green grass, and felt the moist fertile earth. Holding on tight to Butter’s rope, I tapped my walking stick from side to side, feeling for where the grass met the rocks of the road that led to the house. I could smell smoke coming from a chimney. Roosters crowed in the distance, and cows moaned further out to field. I thought about how I would introduce myself using my manners. I wanted to make a good impression on Frooby’s father, Derkal, the vegetable seller. Frooby was my friend, and it worried me when he was too sick to come to school.

Butter barked, indicating I was about to walk into something. I put my stick out and found steps leading up to a front door. I knocked.

The door creaked. ‘Adenine?’ Frooby said.

‘Well met, Frooby. Just making sure you haven’t died,’ I said and then realised the inappropriateness of my humour.

‘You can’t be here. You’ll catch my sickness.’ He coughed, and it sounded as if an angry dog lived in his chest, ‘It’s why I’m home. Don’t come near me.’

I laughed. ‘It’s all right, Frooby. I’ve never caught an illness before… well, nothing that gave me trouble for more than a few hours, anyway.’

Frooby chuckled, which set off more coughing. ‘Are you sure?’

I nodded.

‘Come in, then.’

‘Stay,’ I said to Butter. As I turned to go inside, Butter whined.

‘He can come in,’ Frooby said.

‘Follow,’ I said, and Butter trotted into the house, his cold nose tapping at the backs of my legs. Inside, there was the strong smell of jasmine and lavender. ‘Smells good in here,’ I commented.

‘It was my Mother’s favourite scent. She said it brought the outside, inside. Since she died, not a day’s gone by when Father doesn’t put the house to smelling like this; it reminds him of her.’

One day, Frooby and I had talked about our parents’ deaths. His mother had died giving birth to him; he had been born four weeks before his predicted birthing date. That was why he was so sick all the time.

Jemely had been present for his birth and used the words ‘small as a bean’ to describe him. A few months back, Frooby had helped me across a puddle of water, and I’d felt the thinness of his wrists, and through his arm, the faint pulse of his heart. He always sounded tired, as if he needed a long sleep, a winter sleep, the kind that mountain bears took.

‘You should be at school,’ he said. Frooby always worried about others, but never for himself. I had learned to trust him more than Emala or Jark. He was the only person I worried about. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘Nothing needs to be wrong for me to visit you,’ I said, putting on my best cheerful voice.

‘Adenine, there’s no need to pretend around me. Look at me. I’m a weak, pathetic image of a man. Even when I get better, I am feeble. I can’t help my father with the farm. I have the body of a woman, except without breasts.’

That made me laugh. Frooby was one person I felt comfortable around. At times, it was as if we shared one mind and could see through each other’s eyes… figuratively speaking. My headmaster had told me about idioms. They were things people said, but they always meant something else.

‘But goats can climb steep mountains and reach the highest of places.’

He snorted. ‘Dear Adenine, you always know how to make me feel good about myself.’

‘You’re nice.’ I shrugged. ‘Not many people are so nice.’

‘It’s hard for people to be nice. People are busy, engrossed in their own lives. Do you think you’re nice?’

‘Not as nice as you.’

He laughed and coughed for a couple of minutes. When he finished, he said, ‘You’re nice enough. So tell me, what is going through your mind?’

Inside Frooby was some older wisdom that seeped out from an ancient past, and always at the right time, too.

‘I’m to inherit my unc… my father’s property.’

‘You mean Garrad’s shack?’

I nodded.

‘Did you ever spend much time with him?’

Too much
. ‘No. I came to live with my aunt when he died. I didn’t really know him.’ I hadn’t told Frooby that Capacia was my mother and my real father was a murderer.

‘So what’s wrong then? Isn’t that a good thing?’

I shook my head, and without warning, tears betrayed my composed appearance. I remembered Klawdia’s words.
Stop. Do not cry. Do not show your heart. Your heart is your weakness. It is the first thing people will exploit.
I pushed my tears away and swallowed. ‘I didn’t like him.’

‘But if you didn’t really know him, how do you know if you would have liked him or not?’

‘Oh… he… well, when I was a little girl, he’d hit my mother.’

‘I’m sorry. What was your mother like?’

Caught again. Why hadn’t I thought to come up with a good enough story before talking to him? Frooby was sick, but he wasn’t dumb. ‘I don’t want to talk about it.’

‘Right. So you want to sell the shack. What did Capacia do?’

‘Forced me to keep it. She’s going to lease it out eventually and use it in the meantime. Don’t know how she’s going to be any use there. Her chair can only move on flat smooth surfaces. Can you imagine her wheeling through a forest?’ I laughed nervously.

Frooby kept silent. ‘Well, it’s a good idea, isn’t it? You’ll have more money. Father and I are poor. We’d give anything to have more money.’

He didn’t understand after all. It wasn’t about money.

‘It’s sickening. Everything about… Garrad. I hate him. He hurt me.’ My hands were clenched, and Butter growled softly. ‘Heel,’ I commanded, and he stopped growling and sat by my foot.

‘This is important to you, isn’t it?’

‘Yes.’

‘What can you do?’

‘Nothing.’ I found a chair and plonked myself into it.

Frooby lightly touched my arm. He was the only person other than Mother who could even lay a finger on me without me flinching. I had spent so many years fearing I would make someone sick—it was a hard habit to break. Lately, something else made me recoil from human touch, something I held Uncle Garrad responsible for. I didn’t want anyone’s comfort. I could be strong through everything and anything. I wasn’t a baby.

‘Have you thought of how Butter would like it out there, though? He would love to chase the poor unsuspecting rodents and insects.’