Journey of a Girl

A Proper Education: Chapter Nineteen

Sally would promise several more times, "You can start helping me tomorrow", but she never asked Credence to lift a finger in work.

The next morning when Credence offered to carry dishes or haul wood to the fire, Sally firmly denied her.

"Keep an eye on me for now," Sally told her, "you can start helping me tonight or tomorrow."

It became the Phrase of Sally, and she rarely strayed from it.

Over the next couple of days, Credence watched helplessly as Sally tended to everyone and everything. She noticed that Sally would often drink from a secret bottle she kept in her pockets. Whenever it was empty, which happened many times both day and night, Sally would meander behind the counter and refill it with mead. Credence guessed it was her favorite drink, and she attributed it to helping Sally keep a pleasant demeanor, as well as giving her some much-needed energy, for each long swig seemed to lighten the woman's steps.

Every night brought another crowd and another ridiculous display of lively euphoria.

And every morning it was Sally alone who cleaned up after it.

It was a rare occasion when she acquiesced to Credence's help, and only when the workload was impossible for one woman to complete alone. Even then, the chores given were minimal, like feeding the fire or running a rag over a few tables.

It dawned on Credence that it made Sally uneasy to accept assistance because she was accustomed to doing everything on her own. Credence would only be in her tavern for a few more days, and then Sally would be alone once more. It was probably easier for the woman to keep her routine as it was and allow Credence a few days of relaxation.

"I don't know what the school expects from your work detail," Sally once told her, "but your company is a wonderful reprieve from the tedious daytime hours. It's nice to talk to someone other than myself."

"But I could help you finish your work faster so you'd have time to rest."

"It's enough that you are here, Credence."

The lack of work bothered Credence, for she, like Sally, was not used to sitting idly. Whenever Sally was too busy to converse with, Credence used her time to plot her future. She would sit in her room, which had been swept and tidied and had become a sanctuary, and focus on which of two difficult choices to make:

Free the real Headmaster and save the school or use the remaining days of work detail to escape the towns.

If, of course, escape was even possible.

If, of course, the real Headmaster could be saved.

Credence had relinquished the notion of refusing kindness to others, a decision she concluded had been poorly made out of desperation instead of wisdom. She needed to survive, but she couldn't live with herself if she turned her back on those in need. She'd done so with Wonda. And she couldn't leave children in dire circumstances. She'd done so with Josiah. 

I wish I could beg Sally to buy me at the Auction, Credence thought more than a few times. I wish I could make Mistress Cinder understand I'm not worth keeping.

In her room she was afforded privacy, and it was as dear to her as the woman who ran the tavern. She felt safe tucked away in the forgotten hall, and Sally hadn't come to the room since Credence's first night.

Because of that, when she could stand to think of impossible things no longer, Credence would practice magic.

Fire, as always, was eager to answer her call, though Credence never sensed that the element was responding out of allegiance to her, but simply out of a desire to be alive. Lilith told her that every witch could master one, possibly two, of the elements, but they would only know which after a time—and it would be a definitive feeling of certainty. When—if—an element gave itself completely to her, Credence would know it.