Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Dahlia
The zipline ticks over notches as we dock. The hull bumps the edge of a wooden jetty.
The clarity in The Bite is dream-like. I can hear every noise echoing into the depths. Hear the playful trickling of water coming from unseen corners of the cave, and distinct female and male voices. Dock workers shuffle. Boats hum. It is not loud—it’s alive, in a reserved way.
I stare into the rocky tunnels, spotting lights from cabins made from both wood and the rock itself. So many houses—they appear small as they cling to the cave walls like starfish are said to do to underwater rocks.
“Off you get, Lace Girl,” Tomar calls.
My wonder is cut short when time is up, and I have to figure out what happens next without asking what happens next…
“Give me a few hours,” Tomar says to me, unknowingly answering my question, and creating another question: a few hours until what? “Oh, and you know the colours, right? Orange for first-light, yellow for crown-light, and red for last-light. Gets dark down here, but the streetlights will always show you the time.”
I nod. We had time-lamps in each room of the Lace House. With the sun always behind a blanket of Redwind, day and night, and everything in between become disorientating.
The other passengers are already stepping onto the rocky ground.
Right , I can do this.
Head high, I cradle Spero with one hand and climb from the boat, my boots hitting the smooth rock.
A few hours…. That is enough time to find Spero some food. Find an Exchange Hub or… a person who can help me. An older woman, perhaps. I roam the faces of people around.
Shuffling so my beibao moves on my back, I remind myself I have stamps to exchange. Lots of them. Whiskey stamps are worth five times milk stamps. I am set for a while.
Risking a look back at the catamaran, I find Tomar conversing with another man, and Lagos unloading the boat, lifting each massive crate effortlessly.
A few hours…
I tug my jacket higher, turn toward what looks like a small exchange and stride over to it. Warmth rushes up my spine, so I pause. When I peer over my shoulder, I inhale sharply. Lagos is staring straight at me with those near-pitch-black eyes. And I feel small and out of breath.
Does he know that I’m not Maple? Does he want to kill my—Maple’s—baby?
I have to trust them.
I will, but not blindly. A healthy dose of suspicion will keep me and Spero safe.
I lift my chin and continue in the opposite direction toward what I think is an Exchange Hub, a cabin with a sign hanging above the door. It has a fish drawn on it, but I hope they also have powdered milk or, more unlikely, formula.
I enter through a rickety door.
It’s a narrow room with very few items on display: crates of fish—half empty—a few items, ropes, gloves, hooks on racks. A small bowl of apples catches my eye, and my stomach rumbles with need.
I whisper, “Apples.”
Pulling my beibao off, I riffle through to collect all my whiskey stamps and a few tonic ones that I know are also quite valuable.
"Your stamps are no good ‘ere."
My eyes snap up to a man with hair as translucent as ice, one cloudy eye, and pinkened skin sagging from his aging face. He is visibly older—in his second century of life, for sure. It has not been kind to him.
"What do you mean?" I ask, blinking at him.
"You got Half-tower stamps.” The man walks toward me, his good eye measuring me up while the other doesn’t move. “I know your kind.” He points to the wad of papers in my hand. “That's worthless. That means nothin’ to me. I isn’t allowed in the tower.”
I almost lose my footing.
What does he mean?
“This is my only form of exchange…” I try to calm down as my chest squeezes. "I- I- don't understand.” I force a smile. “I thought stamps were The Cradl?—"
"Only worth somethin’ in their tower.”
My lungs burn. No. "That's?—"
"Planned.” He grins and all his teeth are missing from his wide, gummy mouth. “So you don’t go leavin’. And if you do, it ain’t easy. They’re not gonna give you somethin’ valuable, so you can just leave with it. Are they? We get a lot of runaways ‘ere."
I don’t understand.
“Can you cook?"
What is he saying?
“Can you fish?”
I step backward, feeling light-headed and faint. With no exchange, I’m… I’m stuck, in danger, helpless.
Spero starts to whimper and squirm at my chest. I say, “I can sew and clean?—”
"Don’t need that. And, nothin’ is free in The Cradle,” the man says. “Goodwill is a lie. Meaningful Purpose is a virtue. You know that.”
Meaningful Purpose…
I grip the counter.
“I'll help you out,” he offers, and I lift my gaze to meet his. “I’m generous to your kind, see. You can do your Trade. You can sleep beside me as trade for an apple and whatever it is you need for that babe you tryin’ to hide... Milk or formula? Can’t make ya own? Is the child new? Are you bleeding still?”
“I—" I’m dizzy. “I’m not…”
“I won't harm you. It's a simple trade, and one you were born for. Easy. You don’t have to do anythin’. I’m feelin’ a bit down these ‘ere days. It’s a decent Trade, yours is. To relieve and soothe a depressed man. Well?"
" Sleep —” Confusion hangs on my tongue. " Beside you? Like in the Deep Sleep? In exchange for formula—" I try to breathe. “You have formula?”
His eyes lap the length of my body, and although I’m heavily clothed, I suddenly feel completely naked.
My empty stomach growls, and Spero cries louder. I stifle the urge to throw my arms around myself and him and run from the Hub. Instead, I fist the useless stamps.
"You're a Lace Girl?" he says. “You all smell the same. Like that bloody La Mu leaf.”
My voice is small as I answer, "Yes. I am a Lace Girl from the Half-tower.”
“Property of The Trade.” He leers. “Valuable property. Let me guess, you wanna get to the Common Community up north? Your Ward isn’t treatin’ you very well? That’s why you’re ere’.”
“Um…”
Maple! She was trying to get to the little girl with the upside-down bird .
A girl she saw in a dream that she swears is trying to guide her. This girl is a phantom with no face or name.
Maple retold the dream, where she followed the girl north through a grey tunnel. At the end, there was no Redwind. She breathed fresh air. She found herself in a farming community between mountains, safe from the wild weather. Untouched and untagged by The Trade.
Is Tomar taking me up north?
“Well?” The old man leans closer, inundating me with his rank breath when he smiles, and my gaze becomes snagged on his mouth. On trenches of gums. He does have teeth—tiny teeth. Rows of small, sharp ones that coat the entire cleft of his inner mouth.
My blood turns to ice when a term comes to my mind. Endigo.
I fight to hide a shudder.
What choice do I have?
It’s a fair exchange, and he said he won’t bring me any harm.
“Who will, um—” I clear my throat. “Watch Spero, my baby, while I sleep?”
“If you feed that babe this formula.” He lifts a glass jar up from under the counter. It is half full of white powder. “It’ll go to sleep for at least a few hours. A full stomach will do that. Mark my words.”
I stare at the jar. Relief rushes down a heavy exhale. I can feed Spero for a week or so. A huge weight lifts from my shoulders, and I sigh.
“You only need a few hours?”
He shrugs. “Tops.”
“Do you have more formula?”
“No.” He slides the jar across the counter to me. “You might start to make your own milk soon. Then we can talk about bottlin’ that. There will be lots of interest there.” He licks his lips, and I swallow over a lump.
“I won’t be here that long,” I say, reaching for the formula and accepting the exchange. “I am going to feed my baby first. Do you have fresh water? A bottle or mixing… thing.”
He frowns, his gaze dropping to the crying infant, irritation crossing his face, before he grabs an empty plastic bottle from a trash can behind him. “Here.” He nods toward the door. “There is fresh water by The House. It’s signed. Largest cabin. Three levels. Probably has House Girls out the front waitin’ for the travellers. I ain’t allowed there. But pretty things like you will be, but—” He shuffles. “We got an exchange, right? You don’t gonna steal from me?”
I lift my chin. “I would never steal from anyone.”
“You ain’t goin’ to The Crust if you steal,” he adds.
“I’ll be back,” I assure him.
He twitches. “Soon!”
His tone hits a breath from me. I don’t know why. This is life. What I was born for. This is a decent, harmless exchange. I only hope what he has planned for my body while I sleep is gentle. It’s soothing to have another person rest with you. Dopamine and serotonin are released in our brains when we have company, stroke someone’s hair, or feel their warmth. It is in my studies, and the very Purpose of a Lace Girl.
Usually, we are registered with a Trade man who deserves us, who works hard at his Purpose and takes a vow to care for us. To treat us as special, precious, even. The Endigo man’s heated attention stirs through me—this is not how it usually works, but… I gaze down at Spero.
I have to do this for him.
Hiding my anxieties behind a soft smile, I take one final look at the Endigo man, noticing how the pupil in his good eye has enlarged, before heading toward the door.
One task at a time. I need to feed Spero. Need fresh water and a makeshift nipple.