Media: Cadence

Music: World of Dreams by Future World Music

*****

CHAPTER TWO

The first thing Cadence smelled upon reaching home was the faint fragrance of carrot and ginger soup.

Away from the ostentatious display of nobility wealth, her old cottage was a solace. No one noticed the shabby roof, the numerous shaky runes carved by a child into the front door, or the close to collapsing window panes, because no one ventured this deep into the forest. The forest was rumored to be filled with man-eating monsters with teeth as long as Cadence's calf, but she had never seen one in all the time she lived there.

She drew the key from her pocket and unlocked the front door.

"Shoes off." Her brother's voice floated from the kitchen. "I just wiped the floor."

Cadence kicked off her snow-coated shoes, peeled away her cloak and hung it on the stand. The wooden floorboards creaked as she made her way toward the fireplace, and she plonked her bundle onto the table.

The heat from the hearthstone was heavenly. Cadence massaged her stiff elbows, then moved her fingers to her neck. She was so exhausted, she could close her eyes and fall asleep at the hearth right away.

"Hey, Cady," her brother called. "Supper is almost done."

Cadence stretched her back. "Alright, I'm coming."

Her brother was in the kitchen with his back to her, dark hair bouncing as he stirred the soup with fervent enthusiasm.

Upon seeing Cadence, Cole raised the spoon in a hearty wave. "How was work?"

A heavy sigh escaped her lips. "Horrible, as usual. Khazaria is an utter myiak, and the cold didn't help either."

"We should just become pirates," Cole suggested. "Never ending flow of riches and ale, the good ol' sea life."

"The sea is disgusting."

Her brother tutted. "It's not my fault you believed that the sea is made up of whale tears."

"I was five! I can't believe I actually fell for your stupid tales for so long."

Her brother chuckled. "You weren't the brightest. Get the bowls. Supper is almost ready."

"How's Papa?" Clay bowls clinked as Cadence set them onto the table.

"He's been hacking up quite a cough this week, but if we can accumulate the money to pay for a witch-doctor in time, he'll be fine."

Cadence's heart sank. "How much do we need?"

Cole plopped the pot down onto the table. His brows were creased together, and his brown eyes were filled with worry. "Fifty Moons."

She averted her eyes from her brother. Fifty Moons was a lot, she could almost buy two cows with that. She had not expected their debts to accumulate to such a sum.

"I get my pay next week," Cadence said. "Ten Moons."

"If I double my shift, I can make the ends meet," Cole said.

"No." Cadence grabbed her brother's hand. "You can't. You'll expose yourself. You know what would happen if someone finds out that you're Varya."

"Papa is very sick."

"I'll give up my weekends, work the extra two days. Master Orelik will pay me more."

"Cady." Cole's smile was small. "I should put my Affinities to good use. I can chop down twice as many trees than a regular person. With wood in such a high demand, I can get us the fifty Moons in no time."

"I'll work the extra shifts," Cadence said firmly. "No normal person can work those hours and not return with a broken back. It's like announcing your Affinities to the Kesatria in the marketplace."

Her brother's smile vanished. "You know what we're doing is against the law, right?"

He spooned the soup into the two bowls, letting his sentence hang in the air. Cadence noticed he had poured more peas and carrots into her portion but held her tongue. She knew what he was thinking: if she were to take the extra shifts, she should eat more.

"The law doesn't apply to what they don't know," Cadence said. "Besides, unless you tattle on yourself or do something stupid like work extra shifts, they'll never find out. We should hope for the best now that the annual draft is over."

The new law demanded all Varya, be they nobility or bastard, enlist in the army when they turn eighteen. Cole had managed to dodge the draft, although he was a year over the established age by staying out of public schools, as it only took an Oracle's touch to extract the truth.

Cadence knew the consequences of not enlisting. Those who dodged the draft would be branded upon their faces as cowards and traitors, then thrown to toil in the Celestium shafts for the rest of their lives. Yet, they needed Cole. The family needed Cole. Cadence could not hold everything together by herself. If her brother left, both she and her father would run out of money and eventually starve to death.

They lapsed into silence. The only sounds in the room were the crackling of the fire and the clinks of their spoons against the bowls.

"There are some leftovers in my bundle." Cadence broke the stillness.

A hint of amusement danced in her brother's eyes. "You mean stolen food."

"Well." Cadence folded her arms. "In my defense, I had plenty of practice, and it is all because of you."

"Speaking of which," Cole said. "Did you borrow any books from the Orelik library?"

"Not this week. Crazy preparations for the stupid party and the exhibition next week."

Cole looked disappointed. "But I wanted something new to read."

"I don't understand why you like reading so much."

"It's not my fault you can't read."

"Try reading when all the letters are drunk. It's like reading with triple vision."

"If only we had the money, we could take you to a Mujarab and fix your eyes."

"No," Cadence said. "If we have the money, we take Papa to a Mujarab and fix his spine."

Her brother went quiet. "Did you like the soup?"

He was hedging the topic again. Cadence was too tired to argue with him.

As Cole reached for a crush of bread, his stone Hajmali swung from his neck, the golden moth carved into the stone glinting like the sun. He was a Shifter, one of the Warriors who could change their physical form into other creatures. But it was only possible if they had a Hajmali in contact with their skin. Moreover, they could only turn into whatever animal matched the Hajmali's enchantment.

"You've had a long day," Cole said as Cadence rose to her feet. "I'll wash up."

"Thanks." She gave him a smile. Dewas bless him for always being there to watch out for her.

The clink of pot and bowls faded when she entered the other room. There were only four rooms in the house—the kitchen, two bedrooms, and the living room. Cole slept in front of the hearth on a rug, Cadence had one of the bedrooms, while their father was in the remaining bedroom.

She leaned against the door of her father's bedroom, running her fingers along the doorknob. When they were younger, Cole would pretend he was an Oracle. One day, their father caught him in the act of carving gibberish into the door. It wasn't a pleasant thing to endure. Her father had shouted himself hoarse, and her brother most definitely never pretended to be an Oracle again.

Unlike her bedroom door, this one didn't creak. Cadence leaned a shoulder against it, giving it a small push.

Once again, her father had forgotten to blow out the candle. The lone candlestick stood by his bedside, its flame burning steadily. Her father was lying on his back, hands folded across his stomach, chest rising and falling softly. Under the candle light, shadows danced across his over-large nose and his ragged beard, illuminating the white streaks in his dark hair. Time had carved its mark into her father's face, creased wrinkles at the corner of his eyes, and folded the skin between his brows.

She took the ends of her father's blanket and tucked him in, making sure he had room to move his hands.

"Still up?" Her father cracked open a sleepy eye.

"Just got back from work," Cadence said. "How are you feeling?"

"I've been better," he slurred. "My leg is itching."

Cadence wasn't sure whether it was the sleep talking, or her father was feeling the phantom itch. Five years ago, the Celestium mines her father worked in had collapsed, burying him and his other partners. He survived, but the accident left him paralyzed from the waist down. The witch-doctor mentioned a Mujarab would be able to make him walk again, but Mujarabs worked in the Halls, their services meant for the nobility only. It already cost them dearly to get a decent witch-doctor. To get a Mujarab, they would have to sell their house and still not be able to pay for such services.

"Where?" Cadence lifted the blankets, exposing her father's skinny legs.

"The left toe."

Cadence scratched it even when she knew her father couldn't feel it. It was more of a reassuring act than it was to get rid of an itch that wasn't even there.

"Get some rest, I'll see you in the morning." She brushed a kiss against his forehead.

"You work too hard," her father whispered. "It is all my fault."

It was soft, only meant for his ears, but Cadence caught it nonetheless.

Warm tears sprang to Cadence's eyes. She hurriedly closed the door, so her father wouldn't see or hear her cry.

Before the accident, she had had a decent life. Both she and her brother were educated, had enough food to eat, and a fire to warm the hearth. Their father would buy books from the market and made them read, although Cole appreciated his gesture more. Thankfully, their father bought maps and atlases as well. Cadence loved geography, for the paintings did not move like words did in books. Her father was a gifted storyteller, and he would tell the most fascinating stories, stories that spiraled her into a whole other world.

They had everything until their father lost the use of his legs.

She took a deep breath and went to her bedroom. While passing the living room, she saw her brother still awake, engrossed in re-reading one of their few books. Cadence couldn't understand the thrill of staring at inked paper, but she understood the thrill of being absorbed into the stories within.

It was pitch black, but she knew where her bed was. Without even bothering to change, she collapsed onto her bed. She was out before her head even hit the pillow.