One Year Later... (Part II)

Anneliese's return is heralded by a chorus of youthful grumbling, and I realise the voices are familiar to me. Popping their heads through the door are Jan and Piet Mesman, her younger brothers, each already as tall as her before even having grown beards. They sprawl their limbs in a clumsy attempt at a synchronised bow, their voices squeaking like frozen hinges: "The Madame wishes to borrow our family boat?"

I cringe at the formal address. "If that won't be too much troubl—"

"She means yes," Anneliese says, striding over to my side and — with all the grace of a rutting ox — she lifts me from the bed and folds me up against her chest, eliciting a shameful yelp. Out of the corner of my eye, the two brothers seem to be stifling laughter.

Anneliese instructs the two boys to keep my prosthetics level with the rest of my body as we slide out through the empty halls. There is apprehension in the way they handle the unnerving, skeletal limbs, and many questions on their lips suppressed only by their sister's stoic silence.

By the time we reach the rickety old pier at the base of the manor, the stilted quiet had grown too much for me to bear. "Say something," I plead softly. "Just ask about the legs. It's alright."

Jan immediately pipes up: "Is it true that you got these from a Volkhovsky—"

"Ambush, yes," Anneliese says.

"I was going to say 'prince.' The newspapers won't shut up about it."

"It's—" I try to say.

"They're just peddling their usual nonsense," Anneliese says. "Piet, slide that crate over the wet patch there." My maid unfurls me again near the rear of the boat, although it's so stubby that it would be more accurate to say that I take up the entire back half laying down. Jan and Piet whisper something amongst themselves as they board, sneaking glances at me, sharp and prying; I cannot help but shrink into the canvas tarp that they drape over me, but I smile back anyways. They give me an acknowledging nod. Smiling back has always helped.

The river rocks the boat like a cradle on a breezy day, and Anneliese, ever the dutiful sentinel, keeps the advancing river tides from reaching my legs. It is hard-going trying to keep dry, but she never once complains.

The houses of Cleineberch glide past us like half-remembered memories — wood and thatch, reduced to cinders by incendiaries; stone and brick, pulverised by explosives. From where my head rests against the rim of the boat, the dense fog is indistinguishable from powder smoke. We pass the hut by the mooring posts further down the river that, a few years ago, had provided me cover from enemy fire as I led my squad of five to capture the village square. A few of the villagers had joined me then — youths, of course they were, disillusioned by the tyrant who ruled them, and envious of us Chambiards, because our tyrant had more charisma. They saw my uniform colours and thought me a liberator. Did I believe myself one too?

No. I don't think I cared what I was. I just cared that I was free.

The boat shudders as its prow rams into a shallow patch of mud concealed by reeds. Anneliese curses and grabs the steering oar from Jan, using it to dislodge the hull and set us back on course. "You said you knew how to steer."

"I do!" Jan squawks. "The boat's just… bad! It doesn't listen to me like Uncle Robin's does!"

"We don't have the money for a better boat," Anneliese grumbles, "so best you get used to this one. God Almighty… Mother's going to kill me."

"Nobody here can get a good boat," Jan pouts and throws himself onto the seat beside me. "It's like they forgot about us after the war ended."

"They basically did," Anneliese says. "Mondmaden's not important enough for either side to care about."

"Then why'd they fight over us in the first place?"

Anneliese scowls. "We were just in the way." Piet and Jan scowl at that too.

I run a hand along the vessel's haphazardly-constructed deck. "Can you not build better ones using the timber in the surrounding forests? I don't know a lot about carpentry, but those trees look sturdy enough."

Jan just stares at me for a while. "They're not our trees. They're yours, Madame."

I blink. "You chop the surrounding forests for firewood all the time, and didn't I already lift the wartime confiscation of the common land?"

"You tore down a bunch of fences," Anneliese says. "We got the land back. Not the forest. People around here don't want to risk crossing a law that's less-than-clear."

"I thought it was implied."

"Old forests are valuable," Piet says. "Ma always said as much, so she doesn't even let us near it. Says you might think us poachers or something."

I frown. "I don't come across as that ungrateful, do I? It was you lot who took us in when we crashed our ship last winter."

"You crashed our ship," Anneliese corrects, "and it doesn't matter what we think of you, Rue. You're Comtesse de Mondmaden now. That's always going to matter more."

"Hey, uh, sis—" Jan pipes up from beside me, pointing at the fog in front of us. "I think you took a wrong turn."

"What do you mean I took— what is that?"

"There's a, uh, remember when those airships came and bombed the big warehouse? They left a bunch of craters and basically carved a new river, so…"

"That's a waterfall."

"It is."

They scramble to turn the boat around, but the currents have already begun to outpace their ability to steer. For some reason, though, I find myself unable to care. If the drop is as steep and sheer as the current makes it sound, no amount of treatment would get me to walk again… but, somehow, that seems almost as insignificant as the memories clinging to me now. I allow myself to sink deeper into the sagging wood, the water leaping and landing on my hair and cheeks as I stare, longingly, at the distant houses coughing up chimney smoke into the clouds — they sag and rot just like the boat. They must have leaked when it snowed this morning.

"Jan, take the oar."

"What are you—?"

A splash reaches my eyes, like someone just dove headfirst into the water. There's cries of worry from Piet and Jan, but the boat is making its way towards the riverbanks, slowly, painfully, through the frigid currents. Anneliese doesn't surface from the depths until the prow touches land, Jan plunging the oar into the soft mud and holding it in place with all of his might.

"Bloody murder, sis…"

"Bloody cold!" Anneliese spits.

"Hey, Annie?" I call out.

There is a watery cough and a chatter of teeth, but she manages to call back: "Yeah, Rue?"

"Tell the Mayor of Brandgraven that, if he's willing to sponsor the construction of new cottages for the tenants, I'll grant him his summer home."

Piet and Jan turn to me with incredulous smiles as Anneliese drags herself onto the mud. "You know that summer home's for his son, right?"

"Yeah."

"He plans to wed you to the boy. You always hated that idea."

"I know. That doesn't really matter though."

Anneliese hops back into the boat and crouches at my side, grains of frost beginning to stick locks of hair to her face. "This sounds like your guilt talking."

I nod. "Does that change anything?"

"Not really." She accepts a dirty towel from Piet with a grateful nod. "I just hope that you know what you're getting into."

I turn to my side and stare into the curtain of fog that seems to suspend the boat in space. There is a city through the forested dark somewhere, with canals of burnt red brick and houses laden with brass pipes. Brandgraven; I imagine what life must be like there now. I only knew it as a supply depot.

Beyond that, I know the department of Val-des-Courbes lies sleeping, the soft winter winds hardening the grapes of its vineyards for harvest, beyond which lies towns of increasingly grander scale culminating with Grand-Chambie, at whose heart lies the City of Artigny — the only real home I'd known. Until I left. Then it became more of an idea.

"You traded one cage for another," the prince had said. "Is this the future you envisioned for yourself, Rue?"

I realise that even a year from that moment, I still don't have an answer for him. I wonder if he still remembers asking me that question. Somewhere in the cage of my memories, an airship shrieks as it plummets.