The Tangleroot Palace: Stories by Marjorie Liu

Author:Marjorie Liu [Liu, Marjorie]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9781616963521
Google: ASK-zQEACAAJ
Amazon: 1616963522
Publisher: Tachyon Publications
Published: 2021-06-14T23:00:00+00:00

Lucy rose early the next morning. Barnabus was already awake; she could see him in the distance, in the cemetery, digging a grave. Lucy vaguely recalled Miss Lindsay mentioning a death in town. She watched him work, and then went about her business, feeding the chickens and milking the goats. Crows gathered along the eaves of the house, watching her.

They made a ruckus only once, and Lucy looked up at the sky just long enough to see a streak of golden light in the shape of a bird fall behind the work shed. She did not know what to make of it—again her imagination, perhaps—until she heard a rustle of clothing and Miss Lindsay walked out from behind the small structure, buttoning the top of her dress.

She did not appear surprised to see Lucy, but merely said, “Good morning,” and walked into the house. The girl stared after her, perplexed. So much was odd about this place. Or perhaps Lucy was just odd herself. That did not bother her as much as it should. As much as it would have, not so long ago.

The funeral took place that afternoon. Few people came, but one of them was Mr. Wiseman, hauling a coffin in the back of his wagon. Lucy did not feel any great pleasure in seeing him. He was a very real reminder of the world beyond the wood—a world that felt like a distant place—and the sight of his face made her stomach twist with dread.

“I see the ghosts didn’t get you,” he said loudly, with that same sly smile.

“Ghosts are for children,” said Miss Lindsay, coming up behind his wagon. She stood beside Lucy, and rested her hand on the girl’s shoulder. “Don’t you have something better to do with your time, Wilbur, than tease young girls?”

Mr. Wiseman tipped his hat. “Helena, you’re still as handsome a woman as I’ve ever met. I don’t suppose your brother would consent to me courting you?”

“I believe my brother would have very little say in the matter,” replied Miss Lindsay dryly, “nor would your wife be all that pleased with the arrangement.”

His smile was all teeth. He tore his gaze from Miss Lindsay and looked at Lucy. “Got a message for you, girl. Your father’s come down with some kind of sickness. He wants you to come home straightaway to care for him.”

Lucy stared. “He was fine when I left.”

“But he’s not now. You’re to ride with me after I’m done here.”

“No,” she said without thinking.

Mr. Wiseman’s smile slipped. “Maybe you didn’t hear me.”

“I heard you.” Lucy drew in a shaky breath, swept away by such hard emotions that she almost quivered with tension. “No, I won’t go.”

“He’s your father.”

Desperation rode over guilt. “I’m doing a job. He wouldn’t give up his place at the quarry for me. I know that. He told me often enough.”

Mr. Wiseman’s jaw flexed. “You’ll do as you’re told, girl.”

Miss Lindsay’s hand tightened on Lucy’s shoulder. “Wilbur. You and I will discuss this later.”

“No time for that,” he snapped, eyes narrowed.

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