A child, a mystery, a powerful Etherealnik... and perhaps something more. Even Saoirse has yet to uncover all of her own secrets. But maybe it starts with the ominous black bird that haunts her windowsill and the space between her collarbones.
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ketterdam, kerch
— KETTERDAM. It was the home of merchers, thieves and gangs. Its gutters belonged to both the rats and the homeless children the Stadwatch liked to refer to as rats. The large manors belonged to either cutthroats or men in fancy suits who believed themselves the cleverest men to ever live. It was no place for a nine-year-old girl. Certainly not a nine-year-old girl with a black satin dress and a golden pendant in the shape of antlers around her neck. She'd come on a Ravkan ship, though she hadn't meant to.
She cried when she felt the homesickness hit her chest. She wanted her bed and her gardens. She wanted her nurse that she always ran from. She wanted her best friend. Most of all though, she wanted her father. She hadn't meant to leave him. She hadn't meant for that fight to be their last conversation. It was a miracle that this defenceless little thing lasted a day hopelessly wandering the streets before someone came after her.
They were three boys, no older than she was, but they dragged her into an alley, kicking her down and tearing at the rich fabric of her dress. She cried out, however, when they pulled the gold chain from her neck. "Give it back!" She wailed. "It's special!" They just threw her back down to the cold, damp alley cobblestones.
"We'll get a bit for this." One of the boys grinned hideously.
Another turned to the girl. "How much do you think we'd get for her? I heard the brothels were having trouble lately. I bet they'd like her." Before he could reach for her though, he was grabbed by the back of his coat and shoved back into the open street. The two other boys were quick to scurry after him.
"Get out of here." The girl's rescuer scolded. "You shouldn't be picking on little girls, no less three against one." They glared, but continued on with their prize – her necklace – and the boy who looked older than them turned to face her. "Hey. You okay?" He crouched down to her eye level as she slowly got to her feet. "What's your name?" But the second he asked, fear gripped her throat. She was a fast learner, and those three boys had just taught her everything she needed to know about this city. She turned and ran. "Wait! I'm not going to hurt you!" The boy's calls faded from her ears as she kept running.
That night, she stole a wood crate from a bakery. It was about the same size as she was, and she dragged it into a small abandoned shed of a house not far away. She tore down the moth-bitten curtains to form a makeshift bed, then curled up, hiding herself beneath the crate. If nothing else, she'd always been good at hide-and-seek. In the next four days, she left only when she needed to for food from the bakery. One of the bakers sometimes offered stale bread and pastries to the street orphans who came around. Then the plague hit. They called it firepox, and the siren blared loudly through the shed's broken windows. The girl knew better than to leave the shed, though she only heard whispers of passersby about what was going on.
When she did finally have to leave, she found herself following a covered cart to the docks. Bile rose in her throat when she saw them empty the contents into a rickety barge. Bodies. Too many dead bodies to count, all rotting away, their skin glistening with condensation and the greyish-green bumps of firepox. She watched them push the boat into the harbour. She stayed long after the carts had gone, walking alongside the docks. Just leaving the dead like that... it left a rift of unease in her stomach. So no matter how she hated it, she didn't leave. She only stopped when her eyes caught on something strange by the shore; two bodies lying half in the water. Her eyes widened when she realised she recognised one of them. It was the boy who saved her in the alley. He was dead. And beside him... a little boy about her age sucked in a shuddering breath, making her jump back slightly. He's alive. Pushing away her fear, she ran to his side as he coughed the harbour out of his lungs. She brushed a bit of soaked hair from his forehead.
"It's okay." She whispered. "I'll take care of you." She wasn't sure why she said it, but something about him tugged at her heart. "My name is Saoirse." He stared up at her with wide, half-delirious eyes. Then those eyes rolled back in his head, and he fell into unconsciousness.
