Weeks passed, and we settled comfortably into our new lives. I helped Celestina pick apples and turn the uglier ones into pies and jars of apple butter. Erris couldn’t bear the sweet comforting smell, but he was happier outside anyway, roaming the forest hour upon hour, or sitting with Violet on the lawn, telling her stories of the fairy kingdom. Sometimes I sat to listen, but mostly jealousy crawled up my spine within moments and I returned to my business. I knew I shouldn’t be jealous, and I lay awake at night trying to reason myself out of it but never quite managed.
Autumn broke out in earnest, and it was no wonder Erris wanted to be outdoors, as the woods erupted in shades of furious red and cheerful gold, dotted with the permanent green-black fringe of fir and spruce.
Early one morning, Celestina and I laced each other into our corsets and donned our best dresses and hats and gloves so we could go to town for supplies.
Violet raged that she could not go. I stayed out of her way, but I heard her throwing things, and Celestina emerged flushed from the effort of calming her down.
“Usually she likes staying with Lean Joe,” she said. “He’s happy to take the day off and play games with her. I guess it’s just been too much excitement.”
“Maybe we should take her,” Erris said.
Celestina’s mouth opened. “But she’s sick! And even with the enchantment as protection, we can’t risk the townspeople seeing her.”
Erris shrugged, apparently thinking it not worth arguing about. He fussed with his ponytail. “Do you think I should cut my hair? None of the men in town wear it long like this. I worry they’ll recognize me as a fairy.”
“I saw men with hair longer than yours in New Sweeling,” I said.
“This is hardly New Sweeling,” Celestina said.
But in the end, we decided it was better not to take the time to fuss with Erris’s hair. Celestina loaned him a bowler of Ordorio’s to make him look more respectable. Lean Joe readied the horses, and we rode to town piled into a rattling cart. Celestina became quite businesslike at the reins, her gloved hands capable, her back straight as a tree, with a fine little hat atop her head, but I knew going to town made her as nervous as it made me.
In fact, Erris seemed the most relaxed when he should have been the biggest oddity of all, a clockwork fairy with the hair of a city aesthete. He made most of the conversation on the trip, effusively complimenting Ordorio’s fine brown pacers, although I was sure they must have been nothing compared to the royal fairy horses, which were known throughout the world. But then, I suppose he hadn’t seen those horses in an awfully long time.
Cernan was a larger town than I had realized from the train station alone. To be sure, it was no city, but it was, as my old dancing troupe manager used to say, “worth a dime, not a penny.” Two streets ran parallel with a plaza in the middle, where merchants set up booths of wares like fruit and even birds in tiny cages. I had often passed a similar plaza in New Sweeling, only it had a statue in the center instead of the gloomy obelisk Celestina told us was to commemorate the casualties of some shipwreck.
Celestina marched into a shop without any word for the craggy old men milling about in front, smoking pipes and muttering to one another in some unfamiliar language. Erris and I hurried after her.
Inside, the shop was lit by spacious windows but no gaslight. Two younger men lounged at the counter, almost identical in their worn hats and vests. When they stared at us, Erris adjusted his bowler to a jaunty angle. No one else in town seemed to be wearing bowlers. I nudged him to move along.
“Celestina,” one of them said, leering, while the other one snickered. “Haven’t seen you in a while. Still rattling around that old dungeon?”
She ignored them in a practiced way, consulting her list and picking up an empty basket from the counter to fill.
Naturally, their attention turned to us next. “Who’s your company?”
The shopkeeper, a plump man with an impressive black mustache, ignored all of us to help another young woman select cloth.
“It’s those people who came on the train a little while ago,” the snickering one said. “What’s your name, ponytail?”
Erris looked at them, not quite nervous, but gauging the situation.
“I don’t give my name out to just anyone,” he said after a moment, and although he said it about as politely as he could, they were predictably displeased.
“Oh, why? Is your name special or something? You can’t tell me your name? You think I’m going to cast a magic spell on you?” His snicker got louder. “I heard you’re a student of magic, is that right?”
Celestina suddenly dumped a tin of baking powder in her basket and whirled on them. “Do you have nothing better to do? We’re just here for our groceries and that’s it.”
“Hey, don’t twist your petticoat, Little Scar. We’re just curious.”
Her cheeks burned at the name.
“Watch out,” the leering one said. “They might put a curse on us.” There was a threatening note to his voice.
The young woman left with her cloth, looking all too eager to depart the scene, and the shopkeeper finally turned his attention on us. “All right, Celestina, find what you want and be done with it. And I don’t want to hear any talk of curses.”
“Celestina never said one word about curses!” I said, my indignance suddenly overflowing.
“I won’t hesitate to ask you to leave my shop,” the shopkeeper said slowly. I was used to a certain level of mistreatment, but it was rare to hear such pure vitriol pointed at me without cause. I felt a twist of fear in my stomach and had to force myself not to leave that moment. Ordorio’s house suddenly felt very vulnerable, surrounded by these townspeople who didn’t even know who we were and would only grow angrier if they found out.
A boy walked into the shop, clearly with the intention of finding his friends, and stopped short at the sight of Celestina. The family resemblance to her was immediately apparent. He dropped his eyes to the ground and edged over to the wall.
Celestina put down her basket. “Let’s go,” she said, sounding choked, and she walked out with a straight arm swinging and head high, but I could see it was an effort. Erris looked at me and reached for her basket.
“I’d listen to her if I were you,” the leering fellow said.
I wasn’t sure if we ought to give our money to the shop, but then, we needed our supplies from somewhere. Erris must’ve been thinking the same thing, because he put the basket on the counter and motioned for me to hand him the money that I carried in a purse at my wrist.
Thankfully, the boys did not challenge our right to buy groceries, but their eyes bored into the side of my head as the shopkeeper tallied our goods, and they bored into our backs as we departed.
Celestina was standing outside, head bowed, wiping at the remnants of tears.
“Are you all right?” I asked.
She nodded, but it was a lie.
“That boy who came in was your brother, wasn’t he?”
She nodded again.
“He would side with those louts and not his own sister?” Erris said. He looked like he wanted to go back in the shop and give the boy a talking-to, but I put a hand to his arm.
“Don’t make things worse,” I said.
“Those boys grew up playing with my brothers,” Celestina said. “Playing with me, even. Mr. Caldero, the shopkeeper… we would go in with our pennies for candy. Now they all do their best to make me feel like the dirt on their shoes. I can’t… really blame my brother for…” She shrugged. I could tell she wasn’t the sort of person who ever liked to cry, and it was easier not to explain too much.
“The townspeople ostracize you because you work for Ordorio?”
“Yes.”
“Just for that?” Erris said.
“Well, I suppose our appearance doesn’t help,” I said wryly. I hadn’t told Erris everything Celestina told me about Ordorio’s history with the townspeople, and how Celestina’s parents expected her to stay home with them instead. He wasn’t around enough for such conversations to arise.
“Well, I will try not to think of it all,” Celestina said, with a brisk shake of her head. “We have our groceries. Now we must get the coat and boots for Nimira and pick up the mail.”
Luckily for all of our nerves, no one at the clothing shop paid us hostile attention. There were no young people here, just one old man discussing boots with another equally old man, both wearing battered caps and sweaters, and a tall, energetic woman who helped us select coats and boots. I had never seen a shop like this, selling only ready-to-wear clothes and nothing in the least pretty. There were knit caps and broad-brimmed hats and coats for rain and coats for snow, turtleneck sweaters in drab colors, and all sorts of sporting clothes like vests with numerous pockets, and snowshoes. I knew I would appreciate the coat in the cold, but I was deeply unenthused by the lack of, say, purple, which happened to be my favorite color.
Besides that, Erris would not be talked out of spending money on a silly brown hat that made him look like he ought to be wrangling cows.
“It’ll keep the sun out of my eyes,” he protested. “Anyway, I see other men wearing these, but I don’t see any bowlers.”
He put it on right away, although there was no need to block the sun on the narrow alley we took to the post office. The houses were built almost touching one another, with balconies overhanging the street, and casting shade on the sidewalks.
Celestina posted our latest batch of letters-I had exchanged a few friendly missives by now with Annalie and Karstor-and picked up those that had come in. I had one from Karstor, but also a fat letter plastered with unfamiliar blue and orange stamps.
“It’s from Hollin,” I said with surprise. I hadn’t realized how quickly mail could travel across the ocean these days; just over three weeks for a reply.
“Hollin?” Erris scoffed. “You’re corresponding with him? I thought he was quite out of the way in New Guinnell.”
I opened my mouth to tease him about being jealous, but then I thought, Might he really be jealous? That could be a marvelous thing. Maybe he wouldn’t take my company for granted if he was. I tucked the letter away with a secret little smile. “Well, of course I’m curious to know what he’s up to there. I wrote everyone as soon as we arrived.”
“New Guinnell,” Celestina said. “Oh my. That is so exotic. I would love to hear your letter, if you are willing to share later.”
“Well, I don’t know, I’ll have to see what it says,” I said with a dismissive shrug.
“I should hope he doesn’t write you letters full of secrets,” Erris grumbled.
I was not actually sure what to expect from Hollin. When we arrived home, I went to my room and unfolded it, the paper releasing a sweet scent that stirred memories of home. Until then I had never realized paper had different smells. Hollin was hundreds of miles from Tiansher, but much closer than I was.
Dear Nimira,
I can’t tell you how pleased I was to receive your letter. Everything here is so exotic, and I can’t help but think of you. I can’t imagine you coming to my country, at a younger age than I am now, without family or work to give you direction in such a strange place. I know New Guinnell is far from your home, and yet I am reminded of you at every turn…
My heart was pounding fast. Even if he did think of me, it wasn’t proper to say so.
I have only just got settled in to my work and my new quarters. My room is almost all white-white walls, white bed linens, white sun streaming in. Quite the difference from Vestenveld! This week I’ve been going around with a Mr. Quendley, checking on local schools to inquire about their curriculum. The government wants to know if they are teaching magic to children.
Mr. Quendley is very much like the usual sort of well-to-do sorcerer of Lorinar; he is also quite obese and continually holds a handkerchief to wipe sweat from his face, and he has little use for anyone who isn’t from Lorinar or Dolland. But society is different here, there are not as many women, although many men have brought their wives, and there is something both arrogant and wild about my peers,as if they are afraid this country will seduce them even as they are half-seduced already.
My cheeks were hot, reading the word “seduce” from Hollin, even in this context. He went on about people he had met and parties he had been to, and commented rather guiltily that it didn’t seem like much of a punishment at all. Then, suddenly, his tone changed.
The people are so different here. They wear such colors! I see women in the street, with bare arms and half-bare legs, all wrapped in gold and emerald. They are quick to laugh. People move differently here too. They look somehow more alive. Some of the women practice magic, even. All I can think of is home, and how dark it is, and how dark I felt, and how cold. We always behaved as if someone was watching us, even if it wasn’t true. Remember how reluctant I was to dance with you, to sing with you?
And yet I feel different here. I am trying to hide it, and maybe everyone is. I keep my head down and follow all the rules. But I do think of you, and how I think you planted something in me that wants to blossom under the sun. And if it did, I don’t know what anyone would think of me.
I must beg your forgiveness for being so candid. I’m not sure if my letter will be at all welcome to you. But right now you are an ocean away, and I am sitting at my desk drinking in the heavy scentof flowers outside my window, and you feel like the only person I can safely be honest with. You and I, I think, will always feel a little bit alone no matter where our lives take us. I don’t think you shall tell anyone. My thoughts are a muddle and I need to sort them. I beg your indulgence.
Most sincerely,
Hollin Parry
I was not sure at all what to make of this letter. A part of me liked it very much, and I knew I should not.
From the start, Hollin had appreciated me more than most other men of Lorinar, but he had still not seen me for what I was. He had seen a beautiful, exotic creature from some far-off land that he dreamed of escaping to. It had always been escape with Hollin.
Yet, even while half of me despised him, he knew how to slip a hand under my skin and twist at my heart, appealing to my own sense of isolation. And, for all his many mistakes, I thought his feelings were genuine.
I made three false starts before I finally began to craft my reply. Of course, I still started with pleasantries, that I hoped the climate agreed with him and so on, and I spoke of the attractive grounds and my friendship with Celestina, as if we were all a happy family without any troubles. I didn’t want to sound like someone who felt alone.
But I understood what he meant about being honest an ocean away. He was so far from me now, and I would not see him for almost a year, if then, which felt an eternity. I might as well have been throwing letters into the fireplace, for all that he felt accessible. I should have politely reminded him that he was a married man and left it at that, but I found myself spilling words onto the paper instead.
Hollin, I know you always wanted to travel. You finally have your chance. Make use of it. If you truly believe that all people are equal, and you truly are fascinated by foreign lands, don’t be held back by men like Mr. Quendley.
But I also hope you realize that New Guinnell is not necessarily a balm to your problems. The country is not there to lull you any more than I was. The people there don’t think they are different, they are going about their normal business, and sometimes I felt that, while you respected me more than other men, you romanticized me. Someone or someplace that is romanticized can’t be real.
This is a lesson I myself learned. I came to this country thinking the streets were paved with gold. I was struck down time and time again, and I came to loathe it, and close myself off, but I still had another lesson to learn. Not all people here are cruel either. Fortunes and happiness alike come with work, wherever you are.
I was only sitting in a room with the nonthreatening objects of everyday life-pen and paper, candle, desk-and yet, my skin was burning. This was a bold way to speak to a man. Especially a prominent man like Hollin Parry.
I read the letter over, trying to think as he might think when he read it.
In the end, I decided I didn’t care. It felt true. It even felt a bit wise, certainly more wise than anything I would say in person. Would I be happier sending him a frothy thing full of pleasantries?
No.
And so I sealed the letter away, readying it for an ocean journey.