Heartseeker Page 8

  “This ain’t none of your concern, Only,” Mama said, folding her arms over her bosom. “And don’t think we don’t know about your little adventure, either.”

  If her tone was meant to hobble me, it didn’t. “Mauralee’s the green on the grass! She’s strong and good and she—”

  “It ain’t what she is, Pip—it’s who she is,” Papa explained, with no little shame on his face. “Jon should’ve known better before throwing his heart into the river. Better he makes a break now than—”

  “Than in a few years when you make him marry a girl he doesn’t care for? One that the king likes better?”

  I knew the moment the words flew from my mouth, I ought’ve swallowed ’em down instead. Mama grabbed me hard by the arm.

  “Only Fallow, don’t you ever speak so to your pa or me again, d’you hear? You got a lot to learn about the world, but I can tell you two things—it ain’t fair and it sure don’t follow your rules.” She let go, and I rubbed the spot where her fingers dug in. “I know you don’t mean ill, but this ain’t a matter for discussion. You take my meaning?”

  I took her meaning. Why’d Papa even bother defending the Ordish to the likes of Master Anslo if he didn’t believe them to be worthy of Jonquin’s love? Meanwhile, our apples and our Scrump became coins in the king’s coffers. Coins he could use to take more Larks and more Rowans from sorrowful parents. I scowled, glaring daggers at my own parents’ backs, and we continued on our way down the hill.

  As our slow procession came to the campsite, the river hummed with activity. Barges swayed as last-moment bits were stowed and children clambered up on the roofs, chasing one another from bow to stern. Men and women at the tillers shouted orders for the short masts to be unfolded to make use of the breeze that kicked up along the water. Short, fat red sails unfurled as the vessels began tugging at their tethers, eager to be under way. The site by the river was just empty dust once more, and there were bees in my belly.

  Bula was waiting for us as I knew he would be. I’d seen him in the fields since the night by the river, working twice as hard as some of the folk around him. As if every swing of the scythe, every piece of fruit dropped in a bucket were a moment he didn’t have to remember how bad he was hurting. I wished Papa could have known all of it as he hailed the Ordishman cheerfully and began to unstrap the two chests from Waymer.

  It’s not fair, buzzed the bees, none of this is fair. Not the way the king treated the Ordish. Not that Jon couldn’t be with Mauralee. Not that I’d lost the only two friends I’d got. And definitely not that Toly was still out there somewhere, knowing more about me than he ought.

  Jonquin appeared round the river bend. He joined Mama, Papa, Ether, and me, his jaw set hard and his eyes ringed red. I wanted to tell him that it was okay to cry when your heart was floating away from you, but he just stood there looking so serious, I didn’t think he’d really care to hear such a thing.

  Bula closed the chests, satisfied that all was in order, and clasped Papa’s hand. “Another good season. We thank you, Master Fallow.”

  “And I you, Master Fairweather,” Papa answered. “Wind to your backs and safe sailing. We’ll look for you next season.”

  Bula gave a curt nod, his gaze darting to me as I stepped forward, to the surprise of my family.

  “Master, I was given this, but I think maybe it should go with you.”

  Out of the pocket of my apron, I pulled the Jack. I’d stared at the acorn every night since Lark put it in my hands, trying to take some comfort in its tiny, dancing flames. Though it pained me more than I could say to give it up, I thought Bula might be more in need of its cheer.

  I wondered for a second if I’d done wrong—it looked like the man might burst into tears on the spot. He took the Jack from my hands and traced its willow ribs, feeling the magic lingering in it. After a long silence, he handed it back.

  “It’s kind of you to offer, child, but my girl made this for you.” His voice hitched. “Perhaps he’s why you’re standing here among your kin today. Keep him close. Let him watch over you for the next turn of the wheel.”

  Gruff and proud, the man laid his hand on my cheek as he sang the first notes of the parting song in his rich baritone.

  Look to the river,

  When the fruit’s on the vine,

  When the land is ripe.

  We’ll come again,

  We’ll come again.

  He raised his arm and the chorus of hundreds of voices sprang from the barges on the river. The sound of it near melted my spine with beauty. Bula and the remaining Fairweathers boarded the Briar, and one of Lark and Rowan’s many cousins pulled up the mooring pegs, shoving her from the bank and leaping to catch her as she went.

  Look to the river,

  When the days are long,

  When the hands are many.

  We’ll work again,

  We’ll work again.

  Mama, Papa, Ether, and I waved as the line began to drift past us. Merry voices still sang out from decks, roofs, and windows as sails snapped to, propelling the great boats with the current. From far up near the front, where we could barely tell one barge from another, I could still see the lone figure of Bula standing on the roof of the Briar, looking back toward the shore.

  Look to the river

  When we take our leave,

  When round the sun we go once more.

  We’ll meet again,

  We’ll meet again.

  * * *

  IT WASN’T UNTIL early the next morning, when Mama went to rouse the boys, that we realized Jonquin was gone.

  I’d heard Mama screaming before. Like when Ether brought home a bowl of slugs. Or when the cat brought in a meadow gliss to lay at her feet. But when I woke up to the commotion, I knew instantly that it wasn’t either of those things.

  I leapt out of bed and flung open my door. Papa and Non were already hurrying down the hall toward the boys’ room, where Mama’s shouts were becoming more frantic.

  “Did you hear me? Where is your brother?”

  I peeked into the room round Papa’s sturdy frame in the doorway. A bleary-eyed Ether was still under his quilt, blinking at Mama as if she’d just fallen out of the sky. Jonquin’s bed was made, showing no signs of having had a Jonquin in it the night before.

  “I don’t know,” Ether started, trying to banish the night from his tongue. “He was in his bed when I fell asleep. Maybe he got up early?”

  Mama’s voice shook. “I’ve had to fight the both of you every morning of your lives to rise for halls. Your brother does not get up early.” She turned to Papa and Non. “I’ve looked everywhere. The stables, the henhouse—”

  “Now, don’t fret, love,” Papa said. “Maybe he just needed some thinking space. Yestereve wasn’t easy on him. I’ll rouse some of the boys at the pressing barn and we’ll find him.”

  Non’s face was wrinkled up like a bag of knitting. I could tell she didn’t believe Jon’s disappearance had anything to do with thinking space any more than I did. “You do that, Ellis. Ceilie, why don’t you head down to the river and see if he might be having a bit of a mope. I’ll make sure these two whelps get off to halls on time.”

  Only after the kitchen door banged to and my parents’ worried voices retreated into the garden did Non turn the full force of her gaze onto my brother, who was still sitting in his bed, looking bewildered.

  “Now, tell me true, boy. You got no idea where your brother’s gone?”

  Ether shook his head while stretching. “Honest, he was in bed after Mama came in to put out the lantern.”

  Non gave me a sideways glance to see whether Ether was fibbing or not. I shook my head. “Did he say anything? Anything at all?”

  “No. He was mighty sore. I asked him if he wanted to speak on it, but he told me to shut my mouth. Didn’t feel like getting a thumping, so I let him
be.” He frowned at the open window and the curtains swaying in the morning breeze. “You don’t suppose he’s run off, do you?”

  “I don’t really want to suppose anything just yet. He didn’t speak to you, did he, Pip?”

  “I didn’t see him after the parting,” I answered. A house without Jonquin didn’t bear thinking about. A house that Jonquin left without even saying good-bye was well-nigh unbearable.

  There was a ticklish feeling between my ears. Like a dream I couldn’t remember trying to find daylight. In the dead of night, had I heard a voice? Had it told me to shush and sleep again as my head rolled to the side?

  I ran for my room.

  “Pip?” Non called from the hall. “What’s the matter?”

  I jammed my hand underneath my pillow and it came up against a piece of crinkled paper that I pulled out into the daylight. On the front was my name written in Jon’s neat script and on the back:

  Ether told me you stood up to Mama and Papa. I don’t have the words to tell you what that means to me and Maura. By the time you read this, the Fairweather clan’ll be on their way down to Farrier’s Bay, and me with them. Look to the river when the wheel of the year turns and we’ll come again. Stay strong, Pip, and keep making trouble.

  Wind to your back,

  your loving brother, Jon

  * * *

  NON HAD TO fetch some applejack from the icehouse to calm Mama. Papa always had the distillery make a small batch, but never sold it like he did the Scrump. He always said it was too strong and only good for getting over a shock or getting into a fight. I hoped Mama and Papa weren’t thinking of getting into a fight, because there’d been enough trouble for one morning.

  Papa talked to one of the waggoners who’d done the first early-morning run to Lochery. Jon had gone with him, saying he had some errands in town to finish before halls, but hadn’t showed up for the return trip. What he did after, we just had to guess, because Papa couldn’t very well ask at the waystation without a lot of folk finding out Jonquin Fallow had run away from home. Even worse, Jonquin Fallow had run away from home to join the Ordish.

  Me and Ether sat in the great room in our halls clothes, listening to Mama’s rage blow itself out like a late-summer storm. So far, we counted five plates and two glasses that had met their end against the wall. Even Non seemed inclined to stay out of her way until it looked like her and Papa’s hand-fasting bowl was about to be the next casualty.

  “Now that’s enough, Ceilie,” barked Non. “Tearing the kitchen apart ain’t going to bring Jon back any quicker. Take a slug of jack and becalm yourself before you do something regretful.”

  Mama’s angry breaths began to give way to hitching sobs, and we heard a chair groan across the stone floor as she sank down in it. “That’s more like it, my love,” said Non. We peeked around the corner and saw her rubbing Mama’s back as she wept with her head down on the table, a small glass of jack by her elbow.

  “I didn’t think he’d really do it,” Ether whispered to me.

  “You mean . . . he told you he was going to go?”

  “No, nothing like that. He just said the Ordish had the right idea, not having to answer to anyone. Keeping to themselves and doing what they pleased. And when he talked about Maura, I thought it was just a fancy. Didn’t know he was proper smitten.” He scowled. “Sure didn’t think he’d leave. If he don’t come back, that means the orchard’s my responsibility.”

  “Of course he’ll come back,” I insisted. “He’s got to. Besides, why wouldn’t you want to care for the orchard?”

  Ether leaned back in a sulk. “You wouldn’t understand, Only. You’re the youngest. No one expects anything of you.” He glanced toward the kitchen. “I don’t want to be an orchardman. The Pivens told me that the shipwrights at Dorvan Bay are always looking for prentices. Was going to try to talk to Papa about it, but I sure can’t now.”

  “How can you think of your own hide?” I hissed. “Jon’s gone.”

  “Don’t I know it! You know what folk at halls will say if this gets out?” he growled back. “Not that it’ll matter to you anyhow, since you’ve got no friends.”

  Before I could stop it, a whole harvest’s worth of hurt exploded out of me, my hand leaving a stinging path across Ether’s cheek.

  The look of shock on his face turned into a sneer. I only had a second to brace before he tackled me round the waist, slamming us both to the ground. I’d been fighting Ether since I was a wee thing, so I knew just where to jam my fingers—under his left arm, as hard as I could—so he’d untwist his vicious grip on my hair. Before I could land another blow, he was jerked upward, Mama’s strong arm clasped cross his chest. Non yanked me back none too gently before I could kick Ether in the shins.

  “Great All, what’s gotten into the two of you?” shouted Mama. “If you think this is the time for whatever nonsense this is, you got another thing coming.”

  “She began it,” Ether bellowed, straining against Mama’s grip. “She laid hands on me for nothing!”

  “It wasn’t for nothing!”

  “That’s enough!”

  Some of the fight went out of the both of us to hear Non’s do-what-I-say-or-else voice. At times, I imagined Mother All might look like Non when she was riled, and I wasn’t keen to cross either one. Her grip on my arm loosed. “That’s something like better. Now, it don’t matter to me who began it, because the two of you are too old to be settling your troubles this way.”

  Both of us muttered hasty beg-pardons under our breaths, but it was just the fastest way to be out of each other’s sight. Mama dragged Ether out the stable door into the garden while I let Non lead me to my room.

  “Non—” I started, but she held up her hand until she’d latched the door. I shrank back under the look she gave me—the one that made me feel about three inches tall. “I’m sorry.”

  “I know this ain’t easy on you, child, ’specially after what you been through. But it ain’t easy on anyone else either.”

  “Yes’m,” I whispered. I peeped up at Non. “What’s gonna happen? Is Papa going after Jon?”

  “It’s a long way down to Farrier’s Bay. If he joined them before the river gets wide and they can hit full sail, he’ll already be a fair ways off.” She sighed heavy. “Might be better to give him a trip round the sun to think on what he’s done.”

  A whole year without Jonquin? My poor heart could barely fathom it. “But . . . he’ll come back . . . won’t he?”

  Non sat down heavily on my bed. “Jon’s of an age to want to make his own way. We’ll just have to see whether that way leads him back or not.”

  9

  The wheel of the year turned the orchards gold, and the house was a little quieter. A little sadder, too.

  Mama finally moved the empty chair from round the table to a spot in the great room because she couldn’t bear to look at it come suppertime. Ether and I split up Jon’s chores without much complaining, even though it roused us both out of bed earlier than we cared for. All of us spent so much time trying to get used to the new kind of normal, I hardly had time to think about my own heavy heart.

  So that’s why, when the inquisitor showed up, we were all taken by surprise.

  Most of my classmates had left off questioning me after the first week of Jon’s disappearance. I found out the only way to answer their questions without being untrue was to either tell them I wasn’t supposed to talk about it or that it was none of their business. Both of those things were true, but neither made me any more popular. I pined for Lark and Rowan, whispering my hopes for their safety to Mother All at my desk at halls and to the Jack in the dark of my bed at night.

  The morning Master Iordan arrived, Mistress Averil rapped on her desk to call us all to attention. “Young masters and misses, we have the honor of a distinguished visitor in our study today.” The halls mistress’s plump cheeks were pink
with pride, and her hands trembled as she motioned to the door. Standing in it was a tall, gangly man in gray robes so fine, they looked more fit for a palace than a country study. Behind him stood a serious, brown-haired boy in a faded blue-and-silver jerkin, his face as covered in freckles as a field with lightning bugs. Mistress Averil and Master Iordan didn’t feel he warranted introduction, but he looked as out of place in our study as his master.

  Though the iron stove in the corner of the room had been lit near a week to keep out the autumn chill, a shiver went through me, head to toe. Mistress Averil didn’t seem to feel the blast of cold air our visitor brought in with him. “Master Iordan is one of the inquisitors at the royal lyceum in Bellskeep,” she continued, hardly able to contain her excitement. “He was passing through on an errand and graciously agreed to visit with us. Please welcome him.”

  “Welcome, Master Iordan,” the study said all together.

  The inquisitor gave a thin-lipped smile that stood the hairs on my arms on end. “I thank you, mistress. It’s always a pleasure to visit the study halls from which the next students of the lyceum often come.”

  Mistress Averil pinked further, and her grin stretched from ear to ear. She was a kind soul from a family of merchants near the capital, and her dearest wish was to have a student selected for the lyceum. Every year, she pestered us to “strive for more and bring honor to your families!” She hadn’t caught on that, in the country, leaving your family a hand short on the estate so you could study dusty old books in Bellskeep wasn’t anyone’s idea of honorable.

  Master Iordan strode to the front of the hall, leaving the boy behind. He leaned his bony frame against the headmistress’s desk, crossed his arms, and looked down his beaky nose at the class. “Let us see what Presston’s finest minds have to offer.”

  He began calling on students in the study, from the tiny whelps to the elders, who’d soon end their days in the study hall and be prenticed or begin work on estates. I knew somewhere toward the back of the room, Ether was hoping hard the inquisitor wouldn’t call on him. Master Iordan nodded lightly in approval as he listened to recitations of numbers, poems, and passages from the testaments.