and
even the Medgards come down from time-to-time.”
“I don’t know,” Edwin muttered, his voice cracking. Everyone
around him was hanging on his every word. “I asked every year to come down for
the winter fair, but they always said no. And when I asked about an
apprenticeship, they said an apprenticeship wasn’t something for boys like me.”
“So you’ve never been in the mines?” a young girl next to
Ashton asked Edwin. Edwin shook his head. “Lucky!” she exclaimed.
Holding his fork in midair, Ashton looked down at the girl.
“And why would never going to the mines make Edwin lucky?” he asked, and the
girl shrank back. “Are you dissatisfied with your work in the mines?”
The girl shook her head, clearly scared.
“Such thoughts are blasphemous. Do we need to have a
conversation with the Headmistress?” Ashton asked.
Walt flung a piece of bread at Ashton’s head. “Lay off,
Ashton. Everyone knows horrible things crawl out of those mines, and we all
know someone who has died in there.”
“Walter Morrisey,” Ashton screeched, his voice barely above
a whisper. He picked up the piece of bread off his lap. “Dead parents or no,
throwing bread across—”
“And what about your parents, Edwin?” Walt asked, dismissing
Ashton’s outcry. “Your real parents, I mean. I don’t think I’ve ever heard
anyone talk about your real parents, or why you were sent up to the Medgards’
inn.”
Before Edwin could answer a shadow appeared in the doorway,
and a bearded man with a cane hobbled inside. Headmistress Vanora rose.
“Master Carrion,” Headmistress Vanora said obsequiously. “An
honor, always. Two members of the Council is quite a rarity. What brings you to
the other side of Chardwick?”
The man frowned and scanned the room. “Which is the boy?” he
demanded. Edwin sank lower in his chair.
“Master Carrion, I hate to say, but this really isn’t
appropriate,” Headmistress Vanora began. No one else moved.
“The boy,” the man barked. “Edwin Medgard has no business
being here.”
“Master Carrion—” said Headmistress Vanora.
Lady Nemain rose and said, “Headmistress Vanora, if I may. Carrion,
the boy is safe here. Really, if we could talk about this later or—”
“It’s not the boy I’m worried about. He has no business—”
“That’s enough, Carrion,” Lady Nemain said evenly. “Now I
said we shall discuss this later. If you don’t mind, we’re in the middle of
dinner.”
Master Carrion’s face turned as red as his beard, and Edwin
thought he saw the man reach into his pocket and pull out a black vial. Edwin
blinked, and the vial was gone, presumably back in the man’s pocket. “The rest
of the Council will hear of this, Nemain.” With a huff he turned on his cane
and stormed out the door.
“I don’t see why people are so interested in you,” Ashton
declared, just loud enough so the people around him could hear. “You’re only
from the ledge, after all. It’s not like you’re from Newick. Now that would be something.”
“Don’t be jealous, Ash,” Walt said.
At the front of the table Headmistress Vanora cleared her
throat. “Hopefully that’s all the excitement we are going to see for one
evening. Finish up dinner, children.” She and Lady Nemain sat back down.
Edwin was picking at his food, but with everything that had
happened, he hadn’t touched his beans. Walt, it seemed, hadn’t either.
“These beans aren’t even cooked,” Walt complained after
taking a bite.
In a voice that said he was pleased with himself for knowing
such things, Ashton said, “I heard the cook tell the Headmistress that the fire
went out under one of the pots this afternoon. He didn’t even notice until it
was time to serve them.” The other children didn’t seem interested, and Ashton
regarded them with disdain.
Edwin scooped up a spoonful of beans but hadn’t even gotten
them to his mouth when he felt the spirit’s cold essence crawling up his
even the Medgards come down from time-to-time.”
“I don’t know,” Edwin muttered, his voice cracking. Everyone
around him was hanging on his every word. “I asked every year to come down for
the winter fair, but they always said no. And when I asked about an
apprenticeship, they said an apprenticeship wasn’t something for boys like me.”
“So you’ve never been in the mines?” a young girl next to
Ashton asked Edwin. Edwin shook his head. “Lucky!” she exclaimed.
Holding his fork in midair, Ashton looked down at the girl.
“And why would never going to the mines make Edwin lucky?” he asked, and the
girl shrank back. “Are you dissatisfied with your work in the mines?”
The girl shook her head, clearly scared.
“Such thoughts are blasphemous. Do we need to have a
conversation with the Headmistress?” Ashton asked.
Walt flung a piece of bread at Ashton’s head. “Lay off,
Ashton. Everyone knows horrible things crawl out of those mines, and we all
know someone who has died in there.”
“Walter Morrisey,” Ashton screeched, his voice barely above
a whisper. He picked up the piece of bread off his lap. “Dead parents or no,
throwing bread across—”
“And what about your parents, Edwin?” Walt asked, dismissing
Ashton’s outcry. “Your real parents, I mean. I don’t think I’ve ever heard
anyone talk about your real parents, or why you were sent up to the Medgards’
inn.”
Before Edwin could answer a shadow appeared in the doorway,
and a bearded man with a cane hobbled inside. Headmistress Vanora rose.
“Master Carrion,” Headmistress Vanora said obsequiously. “An
honor, always. Two members of the Council is quite a rarity. What brings you to
the other side of Chardwick?”
The man frowned and scanned the room. “Which is the boy?” he
demanded. Edwin sank lower in his chair.
“Master Carrion, I hate to say, but this really isn’t
appropriate,” Headmistress Vanora began. No one else moved.
“The boy,” the man barked. “Edwin Medgard has no business
being here.”
“Master Carrion—” said Headmistress Vanora.
Lady Nemain rose and said, “Headmistress Vanora, if I may. Carrion,
the boy is safe here. Really, if we could talk about this later or—”
“It’s not the boy I’m worried about. He has no business—”
“That’s enough, Carrion,” Lady Nemain said evenly. “Now I
said we shall discuss this later. If you don’t mind, we’re in the middle of
dinner.”
Master Carrion’s face turned as red as his beard, and Edwin
thought he saw the man reach into his pocket and pull out a black vial. Edwin
blinked, and the vial was gone, presumably back in the man’s pocket. “The rest
of the Council will hear of this, Nemain.” With a huff he turned on his cane
and stormed out the door.
“I don’t see why people are so interested in you,” Ashton
declared, just loud enough so the people around him could hear. “You’re only
from the ledge, after all. It’s not like you’re from Newick. Now that would be something.”
“Don’t be jealous, Ash,” Walt said.
At the front of the table Headmistress Vanora cleared her
throat. “Hopefully that’s all the excitement we are going to see for one
evening. Finish up dinner, children.” She and Lady Nemain sat back down.
Edwin was picking at his food, but with everything that had
happened, he hadn’t touched his beans. Walt, it seemed, hadn’t either.
“These beans aren’t even cooked,” Walt complained after
taking a bite.
In a voice that said he was pleased with himself for knowing
such things, Ashton said, “I heard the cook tell the Headmistress that the fire
went out under one of the pots this afternoon. He didn’t even notice until it
was time to serve them.” The other children didn’t seem interested, and Ashton
regarded them with disdain.
Edwin scooped up a spoonful of beans but hadn’t even gotten
them to his mouth when he felt the spirit’s cold essence crawling up his
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