Evelyn Puerto - Flicker of the Flame

Copyright 2021 by Evelyn Puerto

All rights reserved.

Cover by Miblart

Map by DragonDust

All characters and events in this book are fictitious.

Any resemblance to persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

T ereka hadnt been sure of much in her twelve years, but this she knew: she had one chance. Just one.

She winced under her mothers scowl, cringing at the sharp words and the tone that cut like winter wind. Would it be too hard for you to make yourself useful for once?

Mam, if you please. Tereka tried to keep the pleading out of her voice. Id be happy to watch Aito while you do your errands.

Her mother scowled. Prove to me youre not too stupid to do the simplest task. Buy tea and candles. Get your brother something to eat. And be back here in an hour. No later.

Yes, Mam. I can do all that. Youll see. Tereka nodded emphatically. If she could please her mother just this once, then maybe, just maybe, shed be kinder. Treat her like a member of the family instead of an intruder.

Her mother waved her hand, shooing Tereka and her three-year-old brother out the door in front of her.

Terekas twin, Tirk, was already standing in the lane. Hurry up, Tereka. Aito wants to see the ducks.

Aito tugged on Terekas hand. See ducks. See geese! He made a honking noise. Tereka thought that for such a tiny boy, it was a fine impression of a goose fighting for food.

She ruffled his hair and smiled. Clever boy, arent you?

Her mother slammed the wooden door of their house shut and locked it. Be back in an hour.

Tereka grabbed the back of her younger brothers dove-gray tunic as he took a toddling step into the muddy lane. I will. She didnt need to be told why. Today was Aitos third birthday and their Aunt Juquila was throwing him a feast. Her mother wouldnt want to be late for that. As syndic of their town of Trofmose, Aunt Juquila oversaw trade and commerce. Which meant she occasionally had exotic foods no one else did. Foods much tastier than gruel or coarse bread.

She watched her mother stalk down the stony lane, her ash-colored dress swirling around her ash-colored leggings, the orange band around her shoulder that proclaimed her a vendor the one bright spot in her drab appearance.

Tereka sighed. Her mother had never let her set foot in her aunts house. Tirk and Aito were always invited, but never her. Maybe today would be different.

Tereka hoisted Aito to her hip, her basket dangling from her arm. She scurried after her mother. Tirk tapped her shoulder and grinned when she turned to look at him. He always had her back. She smiled into his sepia brown eyes, so unlike her bright blue ones.

Watch out. Tirk grabbed her shoulder and pulled her to the side just as she was about to step on a mangled rat carcass. She shuddered and skipped past it, dodging the other villagers who trudged along the dreary lane. We need to hurry, Tirk. She sped up to pass a row of wooden houses, all the same as their own. Two roomsa kitchen and sleeping roomsmall windows with shutters, and peeling paint.

Their mother strode ahead. Dont lose your brother. And be sure you dont overpay for the tea. She flapped a hand at them and disappeared into the gray-clad throngs at the market.

The tension in Terekas chest ebbed. Now they could have some fun. What do you think, Tirk? Errands first? Or pasties?

A smile crossed his brown cheeks. Pasties, of course. If we wait, the best ones will be gone. He pushed past the tea vendor, dodged a dog worrying a bone, and jumped over a puddle, splashing the hems of his gray trousers. Tereka hoisted Aito higher and hurried after Tirk.

She caught up with him at the pastie vendors stall, where she breathed in the scent of onions, frying meat, sugar, and fruit.

Tirk pointed. Look, they have hopberry.

Her favorite.

Aito patted her head. Pastie.

Which one would you like, my love? Tereka kissed his smooth cheek, the same brown as Tirks.

Pastie. Please, Terter. Aito tugged on her short dark hair.

Tirk bought four pasties, two stuffed with hopberries and two with cabbage, counting out the bronze sheaves and dropping the coins in the vendors hand. Then he broke off a corner of one and handed it to Aito. He gave the rest to his sister.

Tereka set the squirming Aito down and firmly grasped his hand. She took a bite of pastie and strolled down the narrow lane between the market stalls. Vendors called to passersby, offering candles and crockery, boots and baskets. The clanging of the blacksmiths hammer competed with the horn that sounded the arrival or departure of a caravan.

As they ate, they made their way through the central square of the market, dominated by the monument to Prosperity in the center. Tereka wasnt sure what she thought about the monument. The bronze people held large baskets overflowing with bread, vegetables, and fruit. The statue people certainly looked well-fed, but their clothes were the same shapeless cut as any villager, their hair fixed in the same regulation manner. Surely a prosperous people could afford better clothing. Surely they wouldnt all have to look the same.

Except for the shoulder bands, a different color for every profession. And the colored ribbons women tied around the handles of their baskets, the color the only choice they were free to make.

A caravan of wagons had lined up in the square, brown-clad traders standing near their horses, chatting with guardsmen who wore black and carried swords and bows. Not for the first time, Tereka wondered why traders and guards didnt have to wear gray.

Tirk nudged her with his elbow. That will be me next year. His eyes shone. I cant wait to travel around with Da and see something other than this dumpy town.

A knot formed in Terekas stomach. Just last week their da had told Tirk he could start as his apprentice. What would she do without Tirk? Hed always been the buffer between her and their mother. Tirk strode down the line of wagons, chattering around mouthfuls of pastie about accompanying their father on trade runs to far off towns like Pir Bakran, Anbodu, and Litavye. Tereka took a firmer grip on Aitos hand. She didnt understand Tirks excitement about seeing other places. Everyone in Tlefas had to be the same. To make things fair, they said. The other towns wouldnt be much different than their own. Ill miss you, she said.

Tirk didnt seem to hear. He grabbed Aitos other hand. Come on. Lets get to those ducks. Ill race you! He trotted ahead of Tereka, pulling a laughing Aito along.

Then abruptly, he dropped Aitos hand. Can you take him? Ill be right back. He ran over to a group of boys gathered around the miller and a trader who were exchanging shouted insults.