Chapter 10: Aoife (part 1 of 3)

  On the day of her departure from Thameside, Aoife sipped tea in the back of a smithy while her younger siblings ran around wreaking havoc.

  She had long given up on chasing after Liam and Fiona, and left the thankless task to Niall. To his credit, her brother had taken to it without complaint, sitting himself down beside the forge and keeping one eye on When Sweat Gets in Your Eyes: Tales of Lumbermen in the Hinterlands while keeping the other on his little brother and sister to make sure they weren't about to procure one of the multitudes of sharp objects within their reach. Every so often, he would brush away the tuft of hair that hung loose over his glasses in an effort to improve his vision for both tasks. Every time she saw him do this, Aoife fought down the urge to grab a sharp object herself and bring it to this clump of hair.

  With concerns that the Griffins would be too easily recognized by Carmichael's men were they out in broad daylight, Mr Rockford had taken it upon himself to run errands for the family as they prepared their move. He had also shut his shop for several days to allow the Griffins free rein of the building. Aoife wasn't entirely sure why the blacksmith was so generous with them—or indeed why she felt she could trust him so absolutely—but she was grateful all the same.

  Her great-aunt Lucy had initially been itching to go out and lay down the groundworks for their trip, but Aoife had quickly rejected the idea. Hooded shawl or not, a Huaxian woman in a foreign dress—with a distinctive limp to boot—would draw too much attention. Besides, she had left quite an impression on Carmichael's men on her visit to St Marcus.

  She stood across from Aoife now as the Griffin women sat around in a circle around the furnace in the back of the shop, which had become a sort of makeshift kitchen and dining area the past few days. Aoife had noticed that her great-aunt preferred to stand whenever possible. As she nibbled on a piece of flatbread, it occurred to her to put to words something she had been wondering for some time. "Lucy, what happened to your leg anyway?"

  The older woman stopped in the middle of bringing her teacup to her mouth and set it aside. By way of reply, she bent down and lifted the hem of her left pant leg. Aoife started, and she also heard Clodagh beside her let out a soft gasp. Where Lucy's left leg should have been, instead there was a smooth cylindrical length of what looked to be wood or some other kind of plant material, though Aoife couldn't say specifically what it might be. The cylinder extended to just above where Lucy's ankle would have been, where it connected to a thin metal rod before disappearing into the opening of her boot.

  "I lost this leg when I was quite young, not much older than you are now," she explained. "Adventuring mishap, as you might expect. Luckily for me, your grandfather," she flashed a glance toward Ma as she said this. To both her and Aoife's relief, Ma didn't react and instead kept an interested gaze on Lucy, "and your great-uncle were two of the brightest young doctors in Temasek at the time. Together, and with plenty of outside help, they fashioned this prosthesis for me and I was able to go on with my career."

  "Is it painful or awkward to use?" Aoife probed, recalling the unforgettable scene from three nights ago when her great-aunt had knelt beside her and talked Ma out of her stupor. She had winced in visible pain when she went down on her knees.

  "It's gotten a bit stiff over the years," Lucy concurred with a rueful smile. "Being on the road for most of the last couple of years certainly didn't help. But it's given me nearly four decades of reliable use so I can't complain. Believe it or not, it used to run as smooth as melted ghee... but I suppose time catches up with all of us eventually, even prosthetic legs."

  Aoife hadn't the slightest idea what a ghee was, but she was growing accustomed to Lucy's accent and odd turns of phrases. Her eyes searched for Clodagh's, hoping to share in this moment of trivial amusement. However, her sister kept her gaze fixed on Lucy. She wore a serious look... again. Ever since the night Aoife and Lucy had dragged the whole family out of Ember Lane and packed them into Mr Rockford's smithy, Clodagh rarely showed her usual cheer and quick humour. Anytime she wasn't helping to prepare food or mediating some great conflict between Liam and Niall, Clodagh could be found brooding silently on her own, not meeting anyone's eyes. She put on that brooding look now and directed it toward their great-aunt. "Great-aunt Lucy, are there a lot of adventurers in Temasek?"

  Lucy shifted her gaze and fixed Clodagh with a look that was halfway between surprise and encouragement. She seemed fully cognizant of the fact that one of her great-nieces had spoken very little to her since their second reunion. "I... am not sure how to properly define your question, dear. Would you say Thameside has a lot of adventurers? Temasek is a smaller city, but I'd say the adventuring business there is just as vibrant. And unlike Thameside, we still maintain at least a semblance of competition between several companies."

  "How did you become an adventurer?"

  "I started out in medical school, just like my brothers and our parents before us. Typical snobby medical family we were, and I thought I was doing what was expected of me. Eventually though, I realized I couldn't put down my childhood dreams of seeing and exploring the world outside of the hub, so I applied for specialization into Field Medicine. Did you want to know specifics? I had to write an essay, attend a few practical exams to showcase my attunement... honestly just boring school stuff. Didn't even see my first live Malady until I started training with—"

  Lucy trailed off, eyeing Clodagh who had cast her eyes on the floor in the middle of the story and did not seem interested in engaging further. Whatever answer she had been looking for, she hadn't found it in Lucy's response. Aoife felt a ripple of mounting frustration as she tried to puzzle out what seemed to be weighing on her sister so. Clodagh sometimes had her down days, yes, but usually not to this extent or length of time. Something was really bothering her, and she refused to talk about it despite Aoife's multiple attempts at prodding her.

  "Something on your mind, love?"

  It was Ma who had spoken. She held a teacup in her hands and directed a gentle smile toward Clodagh. If there were a silver lining to the family's upheaval, it would certainly be Ma's remarkable recovery. She now let Aoife try her blood tricks every evening, and Lucy had also helped Ma conduct a few breathing exercises—the best she could manage with the lack of supplies at her disposal. The result was that Aoife's mother looked as close to her younger self from their farming days as she had in years. She would still tire easily from minor exertion, and Lucy had warned that her and Aoife's combined efforts were merely a temporary measure. But for the first time in a long time, her mother got up, ate, and did everything with the rest of the family while staying engaged with the needs and wants of her children. That was more than Aoife could imagine only a week ago. When they eventually made their way to Temasek, Ma would be able to seek out proper care, and get her illness sorted out once and for all—Lucy would make sure of it.

  Presently, Clodagh put on a weak smile to placate their mother. She opened her mouth to say something but just then, the front door of the shop swung open and everyone in their little circle turned toward it in unison.

  Mr Rockford squeezed through the door, his hat and coat lightly dewed from the drizzle outside. Liam and Fiona, who had been running in circles around Niall for no other reason than to annoy him, stopped and stared up at the giant in bashful silence. Even Niall closed his book halfway and sat up straighter in his seat. Mr Rockford's face softened into a smile as the children watched him take his coat off. The smile was short-lived as he went back to being his stoic self before striding toward the women in the back of the room.

  "All set?" Lucy called to Mr Rockford as he approached. He nodded and let out a sigh as he reached for the teapot beside the furnace.

  "I've arranged carriages for tonight," he announced as he poured himself a cup. "They'll pick us up on High Road, quarter past ten. Any later and we'd be cutting it too close for the boat."

  "You don't have to come with us, Mr Rockford," Aoife spoke up, more as an expression of gratitude rather than a real suggestion. "You've done so much for us already."

  "No," he shook his head and took a great gulp of his tea. "I go with you until I see your boat leave the docks, child. If anything goes awry, anyone along the way tries some funny business, it's better that I be there to smooth things over."

  He wasn't wrong. In an effort to keep their movements hidden, no part of their travel would be truly aboveboard. There was an underside to the city that the retired adventurer was far more familiar with than a migrant family. Better he be the group's face and voice while they navigated the city in darkness.

  "How many carriages? Would they draw too much attention?" it was Lucy who had asked. Among the family, she would have been the most astute and knowledgeable about moving a large party through enemy territory.

  "Four," Mr Rockford replied gravely, on the same page as Lucy in their concerns. "Can't be helped. I asked them to stagger their arrival just in case, but there are limits. On the way to the Docklands, it would be best if we didn't get separated. It's a blessing in disguise that you lot were forced to pack lightly for this trip, but still, given the nature of one of our passengers..."

  He looked around, searching for signs of the passenger he was thinking of. Aoife knew what he meant, but she also couldn't help but think that his own size didn't help matters, though she wasn't about to point that out. He was right about the Griffins having had to pack lightly. In the hurried confusion of the night of their exodus, the Griffins could only manage to stuff some clothing and trinkets into a couple of sacks before leaving Ember Lane behind. Later, Mr Rockford's investigation confirmed that there were men posted within view of their house, precluding any chance of going back to get more things. It was a rare thing indeed that Aoife could feel glad for the family's relative lack of valuable possessions. She was safe in the knowledge that her most valued possession, the bundle of cash she had kept hidden within her mattress, was now packed into her satchel.

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  They did have a tag-along with them that would take up significant space on the carriages, perhaps even more than Mr Rockford himself. Right on cue, the back door of the shop creaked open and the circle now turned to the other direction. There came further sounds of boots knocking dirt off, something furry shaking vigorously as water droplets splattered against floors and walls, then the pattering of a set of great heavy paws.

  The lumbering figure of Samson emerged from the back foyer, followed closely by Aunt Cara. Without hesitation or so much as a look at anything else in the room, the great half-Maladous sheepdog headed straight toward the furnace that had become the centre of conversation. Whether by happenstance or with deliberate care, he avoided knocking over any of the furniture as he found an acceptable spot next to the heat source and curled himself into a wet furry mound. He let out a conciliatory sigh and became still, tail swinging indolently and patches of fur hanging over both eyes. The rain had patted down his fur somewhat, and the two bumps between his ears were more apparent than usual.

  At Samson's entrance, Liam and Fiona ran over to the back of the room, adding to their already crowded circle. Fiona slowed and hung back hesitantly as they approached, but upon seeing Liam boldly pat the dog to no resistance, she also crouched down and joined her brother. Aoife stiffened momentarily before she reminded herself that Samson had never been anything but docile with those he deemed to be Cara's family.

  "Sorry about this mess, John," Aunt Cara panted as she too joined the fray. "Where do you keep your rags? I'll mop up."

  "They're just in that closet behind you," Mr Rockford pointed, and Aoife detected a stiffness about the way he spoke these words. Who could blame him? He had all of three days to get used to the idea that a half-Maladous mutt now lived among them. As an oblivious Aunt Cara busied herself with cleaning supplies, he turned back to the group and cleared his throat. "As I was saying, four carriages will pick us up tonight, no later than 10:15. I will ride in the front, perhaps with the two boys. Miss Tao, I suggest you take one of the middle carriages; take Asha and the little girl with you. As for the... dog, he and Cara would have to squeeze into the third carriage on their own. That leaves Aoife and Clodagh in the rear, along with any baggage."

  There was an air of authority to Mr Rockford's speech that was different to anything Aoife had experienced from parents or teachers. She imagined this might be what it felt like to receive instructions in the military—or an adventuring party. She glanced at Lucy, who kept an attentive look toward the blacksmith and had not raised an objection.

  "The carriages will take us as far as the western docks, then it's a short walk to the boat. The boat won't wait for us. We must arrive before midnight to make the passage. If for whatever reason I'm unable to accompany you to the boat, remember to tell the ferrymen that you're Johnny Rockford's party. And child—"

  He shot Aoife a look. She nodded, knowing full well he was referring to payment for the smugglers. The relatively short trip around the southeast coast of Angland then across the Channel to Calais would set the family—and therefore Aoife—back by several thousand sterlings, nearly eradicating the entirety of her St Marcus winnings. A hefty price, to be sure, but it had already been talked down by Mr Rockford. Anytime one wanted to leave the city via unofficial means, what was saved in time and paperwork would be reflected in the cost. When the party in question was a family of eight with what was described as a very large dog in tow, it would have been foolish to expect the trip to be any cheaper.

  "Good," Mr Rockford nodded back, satisfied. "Any questions?"

  Silence fell over the group. There were perhaps many questions left but they all seemed to fall short of the occasion. Even Liam and Fiona sensed something tense in the air and looked up at the grownups around them with curious eyes. Lucy then clapped her hands—loud and crips—causing Aoife to start. "Well, I suppose there's nothing left for us to do other than enjoy each other's company until tonight. What say we play some cards, hmm? I can teach you a game we play in Temasek..."

  Slowly, almost reluctantly, the group livened up as noncommittal murmurs and children's laughter rose again. Mr Rockford went upstairs to retrieve packs of cards, and Aunt Cara began to push the chairs together to improvise a table. Aoife didn't particularly feel like playing games, however, and was searching for a credible excuse when she saw Clodagh stand up abruptly.

  "You guys start without me," Clodagh said, her voice artlessly injected with forced cheer. "I'm just going to get some air."

  "Me too," Aoife said, standing up quickly and spilling a bit of her tea as she did. "We'll just be in the back."

  Her sister eyed her for a second, a slight frown forming, but she made no protest. Clodagh walked past her without a word and Aoife hastened to follow.

  Mr Rockford's backyard was a secluded space with tall fencing, an ideal place for the family to get some fresh air without fear of unwanted attention. And now, it would serve for the sisters to finally have a chance for private conversation. Clodagh, however, made it clear that she wanted no part of it as she quickly left the cover of the awnings and strode into the mud and grass. Aoife stayed on the dry square of pavement just outside the door and watched as her sister paced in the drizzle, seemingly intent on examining the ground.

  "Come out of the rain, Clodagh," she urged, feeling somewhat absurd. She couldn't remember the last time she had to talk to Clodagh like she was a sulking child. Her sister kept her head pointed to the ground, her curly auburn hair taking on a dewy quality as raindrops gathered.

  "Are we really going to do this, Clodagh?" Aoife tried again, growing impatient. "I know you've got something to say, so you might as well just come out and say it."

  That, at last, provoked her sister to tilt her head toward the overcast sky as she drew in a deep, steadying breath. She let it out in a huff and finally began to talk, though she still refused to look at Aoife. "That's how you always get your way, isn't it, Aoife? We must all listen to wise righteous Aoife. She always knows what's best for all of us."

  For a moment, Aoife was stunned into silence. She did not recognize the accusation. Sure, with Ma the way she had been, Aoife often had to be more of a parent than a sister. But when had she ever pretended to be wise and all-knowing? Privately, she felt constantly harried by the responsibilities she had taken on. If anything, she barely kept it together herself through the never-ending struggle to figure things out as she went.

  "I don't know what you're talking about," she said truthfully, her voice quiet and strained. She struggled to keep the hurt and rising irritation from showing, but it proved to be difficult as Clodagh suddenly turned to face her. Her sister's features were tensed into a rare look of anger.

  "Oh, don't you?" she spat with a vehemence that didn't belong to Clodagh Griffin. Aoife flinched but steeled herself to look straight back. "Maybe I ought to remind you, then. You quit school but expect the rest of us to finish because it's the right thing to do. When I say I'll give up on becoming an adventurer, you won't let me do that either because—according to you—that's not like me. Meanwhile you're sneaking around neck deep in some dodgy fight club and we all have to up and move halfway across the world because, well, Aoife says so. And the real cherry on top... you've been hiding that you're a Magicker. Of course you have."

  "We're in real danger, Clodagh," Aoife's voice was unsteady and barely above a whisper. "You heard Mr Rockford. They've got men watching our house round the clock. The man I crossed... even Lucy said there's something seriously nasty about him."

  "We wouldn't be in this mess if it weren't for you."

  At this, Aoife finally lowered her eyes. This she could not deny no matter how badly the guilt ate at her. At the same time, she still believed that everything she did had been with her family's interests at heart. Though perhaps that was exactly the feigned wisdom that so infuriated Clodagh. She would have time aplenty to reflect and repent later; for now, she felt the urgent need to calm her sister down, to bring her back into the fold.

  "I'm sorry about the sneaking around," she managed to say with a touch more conviction. "And I'm sorry to have screwed up and landed everyone in this mess. But this... maybe this is good for us. We've all been to hell and back, and we're still not much better off than we were before. And Ma... you saw how sick she was getting before Lucy showed up. We have real family again, Clodagh. Our relatives are doctors, and they searched half the world to find us! One last trip, and we never have to worry about where our next meal's coming from again. And Ma can get the help she needs to get better. If nothing else, at least that's worth something, isn't it?"

  There was no explosion. No snide remark. Even the agitated pacing stopped. Clodagh brought her gaze back onto the ground at her feet and muttered, almost to herself. "Not everyone hates this city as much as you do, Aoife. For God's sake, we've lived here for five years. Can't you think of even one reason you might want to stay?"

  This gave Aoife pause. When she tried to think of a reason to stay in Thameside, her mind first went to Marlowe, his wavy white-blond hair and the earnest way he spoke to her about his dreams of joining the Hawthorne Academy. But the last look he had shown her before they parted had made her blood run cold, and that would have to remain her lasting image of him. If he had indeed been the one to throw that goblet into the ring, then he had her eternal gratitude, and she sincerely hoped that there was a better life ahead of him. But would she stay in Thameside just for him—and at the expense of her family's health and safety? She knew immediately that the answer was no.

  Was Clodagh right, then? Did she hate Thameside? If she did, then she had also harboured the same sentiments toward Dubhlind. No, she was simply... indifferent. The last time she felt truly happy and comfortable with her home and the people around it had been when the Griffins were part of a larger clan, part of that one big family that was the farming village by Galway. Back then, she had been too young and too naive to defend her home. Would things be any different in Temasek? It had to be. She still had a vow to live up to.

  But until this moment, her idea of family had always included... well, everyone. Ma, the kids, Aunt Cara... and Clodagh. Always Clodagh. For the first time in her life, she felt as though Clodagh were pushing her away. The loneliness that accompanied this realization was so intense that it made her blood boil, not out of anger but out of fear. The heat stirred within her chest, without her having summoned it.

  "You're not thinking of staying here, are you?" she asked, her voice shaking and barely audible even to herself. "Of leaving us?"

  For several excruciating moments, her sister did not respond, eyes fixed on the ground. The heat bubbled and seeped out, spreading to the rest of Aoife's body, leaving cold sweat in its wake.

  "Of course not. You know I can't do that," Clodagh mumbled, and a rush of immense relief washed over Aoife, diluting the fear and cooling away some of the heat. Still not looking back at her, Clodagh let out a frustrated sigh. "Come on, let's go inside. Make sure Liam's behaving himself."

  She turned toward the door and stopped in her tracks, staring at Aoife in alarm. She then trotted over hurriedly, frowning again but this time with concern. "Aoife, are you alright?"

  As her senses recovered from the momentary petrifaction brought on by the thought of losing Clodagh, Aoife noticed that sweat wasn't the only fluid that had formed on her face. She grabbed Clodagh then, wrapping both arms tightly around the body and pushing her face into Clodagh's shoulder—into her younger sister who was nearly a head taller. Her startled sister's arms hung in the air for just a second before finding their places, one on Aoife's back and another on her head.