The Stillness of the Sky (2 page)

It was delusional, but a tiny piece of me wondered if it might be the final straw that stopped his drinking. If he couldn’t pay his existing debts, they wouldn’t give him further credit. Mr. Brayton’s public house was the only establishment of its kind for miles, so perhaps my father would simply stop without access to ale.

I laughed at myself. The man would sell everything left to him and move to the other side of Litania if he had to. That minor setback would be a mere stumbling block for him, but meant the worst for me.

There was little for me to do but return home. While I didn’t know what I’d unleash by doing so, if nothing else I could collect what little in the world I cared for to take with me on the road. Maybe I could leave without him knowing.

Shaky, but decided, I stood to face my fate. Wallowing in torment over what-ifs wouldn’t make it any easier to bear.

As I took my first step forward, my foot kicked something soft. A small leather pouch skittered under a shrub, and I bent, curious to see what was inside. Perhaps the thief left me payment after all, or at least maybe a clue who they were so I might track them down and take back what was stolen.

Upon lifting it, I knew the pouch was far too light to contain coins, but definitely held something. Untying the knot at its opening, I peered inside. Getting nothing more than the faint scent of jasmine, I upended it onto my palm.

Three large beans the color of milky clouds rolled across my hand. Within them, varying shades of white and gray swirled slowly inside the shell. A vague tickle played at the back of my skull, but I couldn’t place the sensation. I’d always heard stories and rumors of magic, but to stumble upon it myself seemed a ridiculous notion. Magic? I wasn’t so fortunate as all that, but perhaps the beans would have value in Breen, and I could sell them for a few coins at least. They might not fetch the same price as the cows, but anything was better than nothing. My father would still be very unhappy, however, so it would be a waste of a trip regardless.

After dumping the beans back into the pouch, I stood. Before me stood two choices: the first leading to Breen, the second leading me back home.

I didn’t know anyone in the city, and few folks cared enough about others’ problems to even consider helping a stranger. The war with the giants on the far side of the kingdom left everyone overtaxed and missing family members recruited for the king’s army. No one had enough of anything, be it food, money, or kindness.

There was nothing for me in Breen.

I turned back the way I’d come, pointing myself firmly in the direction of home. My father might be violent and abusive, but at least there I had a roof above my head and land to work for growing food. Besides, as heavily as he drank, he couldn’t possibly have too many years left to torture me. And if he turned me out, well, I’d be no worse off than I was at the moment.

That’s to say, if he let me live after I told him about the cows. It could be the last time I ever angered him.

“I know you’re in there, Wallace!”

I dove behind our broken down cart when I heard the man’s voice at the front of the house. Heart racing, I kept as still as I could, not expecting anyone else to be there when I reached our dying farm.

A few more loud bangs, and the door gave way. “Wallace! You drunk fool! I’ve come for Brayton’s money!”

Peeking around the wall, I caught a glimpse of a huge man hauling my father out of bed. The moment was brief as they were soon out of my view through the bedroom window. The telltale sound of wood cracking and breaking found me outside. Either he’d thrown my father through the worn out kitchen table or broken a chair over his back.

Terrified, I crept to the side of the house and pressed my back against the wooden exterior, daring a glance through the window beside the bed. Shattered remains of the table were scattered in the bedroom, thrown there in the continuing scuffle inside.

“I don’t have it yet!” my father wheezed between blows to his face and stomach. “My daughter! She’ll be back with the money soon!”

The monster of a man dropped his hold on my father’s stained nightshirt, letting him fall to the floor in a heap. “Daughter, you say?” He bent low to my father’s face, and I had to strain to hear him. “How is she then, fair of face?”

My father shook and coughed painfully. “Fair enough. Still got all her teeth, though she’s a bit stupid. Hard working, when she’s got the sense to be.”

I bristled. If not for me, he’d have starved himself long ago.

The man grabbed my father’s shirt again and hefted him to his toes, nearly pressing their noses together. “If you don’t have the money by sundown, bring the girl. We’ll take her in trade and let her work off your debt. If she works one of the rooms upstairs, we’ll let you drown yourself in ale so long as she keeps customers happy.”

I clamped a hand over my mouth to keep from vomiting at his words. My father might be a cruel drunkard, but surely even he would refuse such a disgusting offer.

“And there’d be no nevermind about what’s owed?”

His words nearly stopped my hammering heart, and I wasn’t sure I’d heard him correctly. Did he really mean to sell me off to be a public house harlot? For ale? I couldn’t have heard that right.

“Mr. Brayton’s out a girl on account of she’s expecting. You bring your daughter, and your debt goes away.”

At the scuffling of feet, I ducked down, not about to be caught listening in on their conversation. A loud thud, and I heard the muffled sounds of choking.

“But mind you, don’t be late, Wallace,” the man said over the strangled cries. “If you don’t show by sundown, best not show ever again.”

My father hit the floor then, and I scurried back around behind the house lest the other man see me as he left. I listened as his feet stomped across the floor and pounded down the steps outside. At the whinny of a horse, I was glad to have approached from the southern shortcut, rather than down the main road. Hoofbeats gradually receded in the distance, and, when I was sure he’d gone, I emerged from hiding to check on my father.

A quick peek in the window revealed him still lying on the floor, completely motionless. I wondered for a moment if perhaps he wasn’t finally dead, but when I heard his soft snores, I grimaced. All that and he could still sleep, likely drooling on himself as he dreamt of swimming in pints.

But, as I watched his thin frame rattle with each breath, I wondered if all these years my kindness had actually been more cruelty. By staying with him, I allowed him to continue on as he was, rather than forcing him to face his demons. Had I gotten it all wrong?

Seeing things clearly for the first time in my entire life, I made my decision. As quietly as I could, I hauled the rotting wheelbarrow over and set it beneath the open window upside-down. Climbing atop it, I slipped inside the house. I only needed a moment.

The light pack rested at the foot of the bed, holding my coat, an empty canteen, and the hairbrush my mother left behind. After climbing back out the window, I circled the house rather than risk stepping over his body in the doorway between rooms.

A brief glance inside showed his eyes still closed, his snoring considerably louder. With a silent prayer to the spirits that he remain as he was until I was safely away, I crept inside to collect two last things. The leftover biscuits I’d made the morning before were a little stale, but they’d be more in my stomach than what was there already, and I took the little knife on the counter beside them as well. Tiptoeing over the table wreckage, I made it safely back to the doorway.

Outside, I dumped the biscuits in the pack and set the knife atop the lot of it. While I’d rather carry it on my person, I had no means of doing so without potentially stabbing myself if I was careless with it. I took one more look inside, watching the man who’d caused me endless nights of fear and pain, and yet, I could not hate him.

He was my father, after all, and it hurt my heart to leave him that way. He’d be alone, left to face his consequences without me there to clean up after him. Either he would learn from it and make himself into a better man, or he wouldn’t. There was no greater kindness I could do for him than to give him a reason to try.

Without words, I wished him well. Hopefully, in time, he would understand my choice.

Chapter 2

I washed down the first of the four biscuits with a large gulp of water, sighing when my stomach grumbled for more. I might be lucky enough to come across a bush of berries later, but the road was fairly well-traveled, and any I’d seen were already picked clean before my passing. As I didn’t know when my next meal would be, it seemed logical to ration out what I had.

It was strange being out on my own for the first time. Though I wouldn’t say I was carefree by any stretch, a definite weight had been lifted from my shoulders the moment I took my first steps of freedom. Despite my empty stomach, I was sure I’d find something for myself eventually.

It was with that lightness that I came across the old woman. I’d been following a fence for miles, noting how a few of the boards were in need of reattaching to the rest of it. A quaint little house came into view, and I stopped at a break in the fence where a gate should have been.

An old woman bent over nailed-together planks, her thin, twisted frame struggling to lift it from the ground. When I saw her, I dropped my pack and approached. I grabbed her side and tilted it up, angling it for reattachment to the post.

“What are you doing?” she asked, stunned.

I blinked at her, confused by the question. “You looked as though you needed help.”

Her eyes narrowed. “What would that matter to you?”

I shrugged. “I’ve mended a fence or two, so I know how heavy they are. It’s no bother to me, if that’s your concern.”

“I don’t have any money.” She crossed her arms over her wrinkled dress, eyeing me with suspicion.

I shrugged again. “I’d help all the same. If you’ve the screws to fix this, I’ll have it done in no time at all.”

She stared at me, suspicious. After a moment, she turned on her heel and shuffled around to the other side of her white-washed house.

For a brief second, I wondered if perhaps she’d gone to get a weapon to chase me off, but I tossed the idea aside. Leaning the gate up against the post, I returned to my pack and fetched the knife. After digging around in the undergrowth, in hopes of finding what was missing, I located four screws for the hinges, the other four still clinging to pieces on the gate. When the old woman returned, I was already tightening the ones still in place with the tip of the blade.

She watched me silently as I worked. Positioning the gate for the first reattachment was the most difficult, but I’d managed harder things on my own, and a rock gave me the leverage I needed to line it up. I had two screws remaining when she disappeared again, and I finished before she returned.

Looking around for her, I sighed. There was no sign of which way she’d gone. After returning my knife to my pack, I shouldered the bag and set off on the road again.

“Wait!” a thin voice called out after me. I turned to see the old woman hurrying to catch me, and waited for her.

“Thank you for your help,” she said, passing me a fabric-wrapped bundle. “My husband passed this spring and all manner of things have started falling apart without him. I don’t know how I’d have managed that gate on my own.”

Untying the knot, I found two delicious-smelling pears set inside a gray cap. I looked up at her, surprised. “Thank you for this, but you didn’t have to.” I removed the hat and studied it. “I wouldn’t take this if you’ve need of it.”

She waved me off. “Nonsense. My husband won’t need it where he’s gone, and you’d do well to appear as a boy if you’re traveling. Rough men ride this road on occasion, and I’d not see you come to harm.”

I frowned, but set the cap on my head, carefully tucking my braid underneath it. “You’ve given me two gifts, though, when I’ve only helped you once.”

She smiled at me then, the first I’d seen from her since we met. “What’s your name?”

“My name?” I said. “Jacqueline, but everyone always calls me Jack.”

She stuck out her hand, and I shook it. “I’m Mira, Jack. And you’re wrong. You blessed me twice over today— once in fixing the gate, again by showing me there’s still kindness left in the world.”

I blushed, unused to compliments of any sort, let alone gratitude. “You’re welcome. My grandfather never stopped believing in the power of kindness as long as he lived, though I’ve wondered lately if he wasn’t mistaken.”

Mira touched my shoulder, squeezing lightly. “Not mistaken, no. You’ll do well to keep his memory with you. If you pass this way again and have need of my help, I’d be glad to have you.”

“Thank you,” I said. “Though I’m not sure I’ll find my way back here again. I don’t know where I’m going, let alone if I’ll return.”

“Don’t know where you’re going?” she asked. “How’s that then?”

I glanced away, unsure of how to explain. “I did someone another kindness, but I’m not sure what to do with myself now as a consequence.”

She thought for a moment, considering me. “If I had more to give you than three meals a day and roof over your head, I’d offer you a place with me, but I feel you’re meant for more than that. It’d be selfish of me to keep you from sharing your kindness with the world. If you’ve a mind for it later, you’re welcome to come back any time.”

While her offer had great appeal indeed, it seemed she wouldn’t let me take it at the moment. I nodded, smiling, and turned to go. “Thank you, Mira. I may just do that.”

She called to me again after only a few steps. “Best head west, dear. I think you’ll find it holds the richer path.”

I waved at her one last time and headed off, taking the western fork in the road a mile ahead.

It was near sunset when I finished the second of the four biscuits. Noting the lateness of the hour, I decided it was past time for me to find a place to rest for the night. Spotting a deer run, I followed the trail, hoping it would lead me to a water source, or, at the very least, a place I might build a fire. After thirty minutes more of walking, I came to a small stream and gathered what I needed before darkness settled in. Before long, I sat beside a cheery fire and took stock of myself.