Chapter 9
Lark
Instead of a breakfast delivery, I open the door to the narrow, pointy-nosed muskrat-face of a man I did not want to see today. Actually, never would be good. Can we do never?
“Oh, it’s you.” I plaster on a smile, gripping the doorframe with my hand that isn’t holding a baby. At least I didn’t call him muskrat face to his muskratty face. Go, me!
Sentry Niemi, one of the very sentries that Juani joked about calling, stands there in his perpetually starched grey cloak.
I actually glance over to the living area to see if Juho really called CPS on us, but of course, he’s snoozing with his pillow over his head.
It was only a reflex anyway. I knew Childling and Pixie Sentries would catch up with us eventually, and Niemi has been our caseworker since the orphanage closed, ever since I declared my intent to keep the seven kids with me.
This man holds our fates in his little paws… er, hands.
The sentry’s nose is twitching in a way that makes me wonder if he smells chaos before he even sees it. He has that air about him, like he lives for orderly things: straight rows of hedges, perfectly aligned papers, and maybe an alphabetized pantry. In other words, everything my life is not.
“Lark.” He has a clipped, officious tone. “I did say I’d be conducting further inspections on the well-being of Mikael Sokki, Katja Jarvinen, Juani and Johannes Koska, Helkki—”
“You don’t need to read them all off your list. I know their names. Even this one,” I say, lifting a curious Eevi closer to me. “It was Cutie, right? Wait, no, Cuddles! Uh oh, it sounds like it might be Giggles. Or maybe Tickles! Trouble? Hm, guess we better stick with Happy, huh, baby girl?”
Eevi lets out a delighted squeal, her chubby hands patting my cheeks as though I’m the funniest person in existence. She really is great for a guy’s ego.
Katja appears beside me, her expression tight and worried as she glances at Niemi while she swoops in to take Eevi like a mother bird retrieving a wayward chick.
“Thanks, Kat. Her mash is cooling if you want to get her breakfast started.”
A crash from deeper in the cottage punctuates my words, followed by a shouted, “It wasn’t me!” in Helkki’s distinct pitch. I flinch, doing my best to keep my smile in place for Niemi’s benefit.
“So, what can I help you with this fine morning, Sentry Niemi?” I ask, leaning casually against the doorframe as chaos reigns in the background with no off switch in sight.
“It’s great to see you with a roof over your heads,” he says with a rare smile, breath clouding from his mouth in the frigid morning air. “No offence.”
Offence very drowning much taken, actually. We always have a roof over our heads, even if it’s sometimes canvas or a forest canopy. It counts.
His words grate, but I bite my tongue. He’s just doing his job.
He wants what’s best for the kids. The only thing that matters is making sure he believes that I’m what’s best for them.
Staying together is what’s best. If he doesn’t, then they’ll be taken from me, split apart and placed who knows where.
And how many times have I promised them, late at night in the glow of lanterns, that I won’t let that happen?
“Yes,” he continues, oblivious to my clenched jaw. “This cottage looks great. This will help your case. Children need stability, not to be traveling all the time.”
“We have stability. Family is stability, and that’s what we are. We’re all we need,” I reply, a little too defensive. His sympathetic smile only makes it worse. I should invite him in from the cold, but I can’t bring myself to form the words.
“Unfortunately, that’s not likely to be enough for the Sentries.
You know I’ve interviewed all the kids before, and it’s clear they’re happy with you.
Well, that one complains about not having her own room every time, but that’s not a requirement for guardianship.
I’ll include their wishes to stay together in my report, of course, but the ultimate decision is up to the Sentry board.
I’m on your side, Lark, but you need to meet me halfway.
It would be best if you could offer a stable home. ”
Not exactly reassuring.
I’m already juggling flaming torches here, just trying to keep it all together. Does he want me to do it on a tightrope now?
“Traveling is part and parcel of our job. Traveling acting troupe, it’s right there in the name.”
“I understand that, but you’ll just have to do something else for a while. I need to pull together a board for your hearing, and usually that is done with local sentries. I can’t do that if you keep moving about. It took me long enough to track you down this time.”
“I notified you of our plans, as I was required to.”
“The bare minimum. Not especially helpful when there are no dates, no addresses, just a general travel direction.” He pulls the edges of his boring cloak together with a sniff.
I shrug. “We go where the opportunities are.”
“Then let’s consider it fortunate that opportunity brought you to this place.” He strokes his pointed chin.
Silence gathers while I hold back several snarky responses that threaten to steal my tongue. It’s quiet enough that I jump at the tug on my sleeve. Helkki looks up at me, then over to Niemi, then back to me.
She’s wearing her most Hellion-like expression, which should warn me of what’s coming.
“Fireball?” she asks oh-so-nonchalantly.
Niemi’s muskrat face looks rightfully concerned.
“Ha! Ha ha, Hellion. You’re so funny. Nope, we are all good right now, thank you!”
She looks unconvinced and holds up her thumb and forefinger. “Little fireball?”
“No!” I shoot her a look before covering for Niemi’s sake. “It’s a game we play. We just call it Fireball. Not because there are actual fireballs involved. Nothing so…er, fiery. Right, Hellion? Go back to not playing with fire now. Go on.”
She gives Niemi one last appraising look, and me one last imploring look, but at my head shake, she slinks away. No doubt she’ll go straight back to causing some other chaos, but at least we staved off dealing with any lightly toasted sentries who will decide our fate. Win!
Said sentry is back to looking pensive. “Tell you what. Stay put for the next couple of fortnights and I’ll see if I can gather a board around here.
At least you have a roof, and this looks like a decent sort of place, so that will go a long way.
Of course, it would be better if you could offer a proper family home, but alas… ”
“We are a family,” I insist. “As I said.”
“You know what I meant.” His gaze grows a little too pointed for my liking. “It’s just you…alone…with seven wards…”
“What are you saying? I can’t do it alone?” That prickle at the back of my neck is growing dangerously close to anger. “What? I need a spouse to keep the kids? Is that it?”
Shifting his stance, he clears his throat. “Well, it wouldn’t hurt.”
His prim sniff punctuates the words.
That’s it.
That’s always it.
Because I’m not enough.
The only person who ever treated me as if I had a use in this world was Frederik, and that was because I helped him run the orphanage. Now he’s gone, and so is the orphanage…
I’m messing this all up. How are we going to afford a couple of fortnights at this inn? The purse was enough for one sennight after the new clothes we bought, no more. We’re already three days in.
Taking a slow, deep breath, I stuff down all the colourful things I’d like to say to muskrat face.
My jaw clenches, but I won’t add ill-tempered to my list of shortcomings.
I need Niemi on my side. If he gives his approval, it will go a long way toward convincing whatever sentries will decide if I’m suitable as the kids’ permanent guardian.
The thought of them being scattered across the Hinterlands into different orphanages or homes, torn apart from each other… from me…it’s unbearable.
I’m saved by Aili stomping up to the door with a paper in hand. “Here, Mr. Sentry Man. I drew you a picture.”
She thrusts the image at him, daring him to refuse it. As his hands raise protectively, I glimpse the drawing. A group of figures all clustered together in front of a cute little cottage, facing down one lone, man-sized… Oh no.
“How lovely,” Niemi says through a smile. Then his eyebrows raise. “Uh, is that…?”
“My hedgehog!” I blurt, yanking a startled Hugo from my pocket. Poor Hugo blinks blearily, unimpressed with the starring role inflicted upon him. “See, it’s Hugo.”
Because it’s definitely not a giant muskrat. Nope.
“No, it’s—”
“It’s great, Aili!” I cut her off. “It’s amazing,” I give her arm a squeeze before dazzling Niemi with a huge smile. “Isn’t kids’ art the best?”
He chuckles, thankfully not asking more questions, and turns the paper over in his hand. “Well, isn’t this something,” he says, his eyes skimming the page where a familiar face gazes out at me. “A thousand-purse reward for finding this missing princess. Can you imagine?”
Behind him, there’s a gasp and a clattering crash from the courtyard.
As one, we lean out to see Princess Talvie herself—looking nothing at all like the image on the poster to anyone except me—bent over a puddle of lingonberry juice spreading in the snow.
The spilled jug rolls to a stop while the stack of containers in her hands teeters dangerously.
“Sorry, sorry!” she calls, muttering angrily under her breath about another mess. She does seem to find herself in a lot of messes. One colossal mess in particular, if that poster of her missing face is anything to go by. Just what is this princess running from?
Her gaze fixes on the paper dangling from Niemi’s hand, and the look of pure terror in her eyes drives me forward with a wild idea. It’s not without risk, but it appears we both have a lot at stake here. Maybe enough to make us allies.