Roses Read online

  As a child, Ma Dane had watched as all the belongings of the House of Rose were gradually sold to pay off her father’s crippling debts and finally the grand mansion itself, which was knocked down to build new housing. After her father committed suicide, well-to-do friends gave her mother needlework and they survived on the small earnings she could make, living in boarding houses and eating broth. It was one of those well-to-do friends who had taken pity on the lonely, plain Ma Dane and had invited her to a ball in the summer season, and it was at this ball that she had met Pa Hamish.

  It was no wonder with a beginning such as this that Ma Dane did not like to dwell on her past. Her present and her future were too distracting, full of parties, gowns, entertaining, and preserving the lavish, seafront mansion. Ma Dane managed to forget her childhood until a strange, ghostly baby appeared on her doorstep, like a message from her past.

  That fateful day had started like any other in the grand Sago mansion named Rose Herm—a name combining good breeding and fabulous wealth, which the powerful couple had hoped would impress guests. The seaside capital was awaking with its usual hum of seagull cries and silvery peal of temple bells (the temples still remained in Sago as a tourist attraction, though its inhabitants had long decided that religion was passé). The humidity was high for the late spring season and the fierce sun was already burning off the mist from the sea.

  A rude knock sounded at the oak, double front doors. Since the death of her father-in-law some forty seasons past, Ma Dane had been splashing the inheritance about by unnecessarily refurbishing Rose Herm. Those oak double doors were her latest addition.

  A passing maid approached the porch curiously, as it was only guests who entered there and no one was scheduled to arrive until noon. She unbolted the latch and heaved on the heavy oak slabs until they gave way with a groan. Wiping her moist brow with the back of her hand, she looked on to the deserted front gardens with their ornate flower displays and miniature fountains. Her first thought was that a spell, escaping from one of the passing circuses, had splattered itself against the oak paneling. It was not an unusual occurrence, especially in the late springtime when the circuses would descend on Sago for summer pickings, filling the crowded streets with their colored streamers, bizarre Magic Beings, and pesky spells. The maid was about to turn away when she heard a whimper.

  She looked down and screamed.

  Another maid came rushing out of the breakfast room at the end of the hall. Such noise was not permitted in the morning at Rose Herm, since Pa Hamish was always grumpy before noon and Ma Dane was grumpy every hour of the day. The second maid skidded to a halt on the marbled floor and followed the gaze of her fellow servant.

  Rather than scream, she squeaked loudly and made the sign of the gods with her thumb and index finger.

  The silver newborn baby wriggled and moaned, weak from lack of food and comfort.

  “What is it?” boomed the unmistakable voice of Ma Dane from the breakfast hall. She had seen the second maid rush out after the first maid’s scream and Ma Dane was in the mood for shouting at someone.

  The maids gasped at one another and silently conveyed their mutual horror.

  “What is it?” yelled the voice of Ma Dane. She had been troubled by dreams and old nightmares these past few nights and her short temper was close to exploding.

  It was then that one maid noticed the amulet placed beside the swaddled baby and she jumped, startled. She was sure that she had seen the same amulet in the drawing room just an hour ago as she plumped the cushions. She pointed at it and the other maid dropped her expression of alarm, looking puzzled.

  “Is it the same?” one whispered.

  The other shrugged.

  “Get in here now!” screeched Ma Dane, and the sound of a fork hitting the breakfast room wall could be heard.

  The maids were far more afraid of the wrath of Ma Dane than the hideous baby, and one scooped it into her arms with a shudder as the other carried the amulet, and they hurried to their mistress. They entered the breakfast room with cheeks flushed, fearful and uncertain.

  Ma Dane was seated at the head of the table, seething. Master Eli was beside her, kicking his legs in his highchair, and Pa Hamish was perched on an armchair in the corner, wiping sleep from his eyes, a grouchy frown on his face.

  “What have—” began Ma Dane before the words vanished from her lips.

  Her brown eyes flicked between the bundle of swaddling and the rose amulet. Her puffed bosom, which had been heaving with anger and spilling over the confines of her bejeweled gown, stilled. Her cheeks turned pale. She looked instantly ill. In all their years of service at Rose Herm, the maids had never seen their mistress appear so.

  A deadly silence thickened the air. Ma Dane, who was never quiet, sat motionless, and Eli made no sound. Even Pa Hamish paid attention for once and opened his sleepy, brown eyes wide.

  “What is it?” he asked finally, disgusted.

  The baby mewed.

  “Please, Ma, it was on the doorstep—” began one maid.

  “—with this,” finished the other, holding up the amulet.

  Ma Dane shivered, though it was stiflingly hot.

  “That hangs in the drawing room!” cried Pa Hamish. “Is this some trick?”

  At the raised voices, Eli began to make a fuss, but for once, Ma Dane did not notice. She swallowed hard and gasped, trying to regain her composure.

  “Where—” she began, but she was not able to continue.

  “You should not touch such things!” shouted Pa Hamish. “Put that back where it belongs!”

  “No, please, Pa,” cried the maids. “We just found them!”

  “Liars! Thieves!”

  Ma Dane abruptly pushed back her chair and stood, juddering the table and causing all of the china to rattle. Her husband fell silent and Eli stopped his blubbering.

  “Is it a girl?”

  One maid pulled back the swaddling before nodding.

  Ma Dane’s cheeks turned a shade paler.

  “What is the meaning of this?” scoffed Pa Hamish, but his wife was not listening.

  Ma Dane’s dark eyes darted about the room feverishly as she clenched and unclenched her fists into her skirt, biting the soft flesh of her cheek. She had tried to ignore the signs, she had willed it not to be real, but here it was. Here the thing was.

  The blistering orange glow of the morning sun was streaming through the broad crystal windows and outside she could hear, among the screeches of seagulls and ringing of bells, the gentle sucking of the sea. It brought back an unwelcome memory and she licked her sweaty, thin lips. Many, many seasons ago, she had stood at the edge of Sago’s shore and made a young, desperate promise. She wished that she could not remember, but it hung as heavy as a gold amulet around her neck.

  “Take it upstairs and give it to the wet nurse,” she commanded in an unusually weak voice.

  The maids exchanged frightened looks.

  Pa Hamish’s mouth dropped open.

  “Put the amulet in my rooms,” Ma Dane carried on. “And do not speak of this again or you shall lose your places.”

  She sat down.

  The maids silently thanked the gods they were always told not to believe in and rushed out, fearful that their mistress might change her mind.

  Ma Dane rang the bell for the next course and servants appeared, carrying platters of fresh omelets from the kitchens.

  Pa Hamish stared at her, shocked.

  “What by gods was—”

  “Silence!” hissed Ma Dane.

  And like the obedient, downtrodden husband he was, Pa Hamish never mentioned it again. In fact, he did not see the child until she was sixteen seasons old and could no longer be confined to the nursery. He had forgotten her existence and when he saw the freakish thing roaming one of Rose Herm’s long corridors, he screamed.

  CHAPTER THREE

  The Baby with Amethyst Eyes

  The evening following that awful arrival, Ma Dane retired to her rooms af
ter a fretful day pretending to listen to her visitors while her head was filled with the horrors of her past. Traipsing into her dressing room, she let her restless dress-maids unlace her gown before dismissing them. She wanted to be alone. That baby had awakened something inside her—something that she had long buried. She could feel it fizzing through her blood. She clutched her head, trying to convince herself that it was only a headache, but she knew that it was more than that.

  Staggering into her vast bedroom, she stood before her gilded looking glass and pulled at the pins in her hair. She had been so eager to be left alone that she had forgotten to let her dress-maids take it down. She entertained the thought of firing them for such negligence—that would give the servants something new to worry over. It seemed a good idea.

  Suddenly, her dark hair tumbled down her back, the pins falling free. She froze, her reflection in the mirror pale and aghast. The pins moved themselves into a neat line on the dresser beside her and her hairbrush alongside them began to twitch.

  Ma Dane stamped her hand over it. She had worked so hard over the years to control herself—she would not give in now.

  “Asha!” she spat. “Asha, what have you done?”

  Picking up the brush, she threw it to the floor, and her rage consoled her. Marching over to the bed, she snatched up the rose amulet that had been left with the baby. It was different from her own—heavier, darker, and more powerful. The weight of it in her hand suddenly gave her a rush to her head, and her anger was about to be replaced with fear when her stubbornness took over.

  This was her house.

  With the amulet burning a Magical heat into her hand, Ma Dane walked into her dressing room and opened a back wardrobe where her old collection of dresses was kept, the ones her mother had made for her trousseau when she first married Pa Hamish. She had not let go of them in all those seasons, though they were wildly dated and almost absurd now. With a hiss of rage, she threw the amulet into the closet and slammed the doors.

  News of Rose Herm’s new addition spread and Ma Dane’s high society friends began asking probing questions, wondering if the abnormal child that they overheard their maids whispering about was real. Rumors circulated through drawing rooms and dance halls, people speculating whether the child was Ma Dane’s or simply a curse rooted in the dodgy dealings of the Herm-se-Hollis past. Oddly, Ma Dane was more concerned about the former assumption.

  The arrival of the baby also unsettled the servants at Rose Herm. From the first instance it crossed the threshold, there was a noticeable anxiousness in the air, even in the kitchens. Ma Dane did not know if it was simply her imagination, but her day-to-day dealings with the house staff in the following moon-cycle felt strained. Sensing something, Eli forever blubbered in her presence and Pa Hamish disappeared as often as he could to his men’s club. He had never broached the subject of the baby since Ma Dane had summoned him to silence, but it would be some time until he forgot it completely.

  Another moon-cycle passed before—worn down by rumors and terrified servants and sick of waiting for the event to brush over of its own accord—Ma Dane decided to take matters into her own hands. She arranged an early summertime ball in the lush, expansive back gardens of Rose Herm and invited all of Sago’s high society.

  The evening was well underway with heaped platters of food and the hum of a full orchestra when Ma Dane called the guests to attention. It was a typical, stifling hot Sago day and everyone thought the beads of sweat dripping down Ma Dane’s round face were due to the punishing sun.

  As smoothly as she could manage, Ma Dane addressed the rumors that had been buzzing through Sago’s social scene concerning the new arrival at her house. She even managed to provoke a titter from the crowd when recounting one particular story that a winged moorey had flown through her drawing room windows. But she assured everyone that this was not the case and described her new cause to take in the beggar children of prostitutes. Thus, her high society friends and the servants of her household—even her husband—swallowed the lie that the baby was a street urchin, born mutilated as a result of its mother’s under-realm ways, and life returned to normal.

  But that night, and every night for the following moon-cycle, Ma Dane dreamt that Asha was crying.

  It was lucky that a wet nurse was still employed at Rose Herm when the newborn arrived. Master Eli was past the age of needing one, but Ma Dane had been considering a second child (she quickly decided not to after the arrival of the amethyst-eyed baby), and so she kept the woman on, not wanting her to be snatched up by another household.

  It was also lucky that the wet nurse was from a largely Magic Blood family in The Neighbor, and therefore was not so repulsed as everyone else when she was presented with the newborn. She still whelped upon seeing it, but after she had recovered from the initial shock, she would let it rest in her arms and feed from her, seeing how weak and malnourished it was. She was kind natured and the tales of Magic Blood cousins born in her home country with various strange goings on left her assured that the baby’s blood would settle soon and she would look like a true Pervoroccoian in time.

  The wet nurse was the baby’s sole nurturer for many seasons. To avoid upsetting everyone in the house, the child was confined to the nursery and allowed outside only once every four days, when the wet nurse would take her around the gardens. She was absolutely forbidden to venture away from Rose Herm itself; Ma Dane was too fearful that her appearance would spark old rumors.

  Thus, the child grew into a shy, quiet toddler, seeing only the wet nurse and a few other servants who happened to pass on their walks. She was dressed in the old clothes of Master Eli and never seen by the Herm-se-Hollis family.

  When sixteen seasons had passed, the wet nurse knew it was high time that she left the household and that a proper nanny be employed. She had long stopped feeding the baby herself and was now purely a babysitter. Though she had come to love the lonely child, there was little more she could give her and she was restless to move on. After several petitions made through other servants to meet with Ma Dane were ignored, the wet nurse handed in her resignation. Only then was she summoned one winter’s morning to Ma Dane’s office, and she decided to take the baby with her.

  Ma Dane’s office was a spacious room at the back of the house on the ground floor filled with books and a long, wide desk that she sat behind to do business. She liked to spend an hour in her office every morning, attending to the needs of servants and managing the household’s accounts. Pa Hamish never concerned himself with such things, leaving all the monetary and household management to his wife.

  It was a warm morning with a fresh, salty breeze whistling in from the sea. The residents of Sago generally exalted in its short winters, it being the only time that they could venture outside without parasols. Soft, glowing light seeped through the windows of Ma Dane’s office as the wet nurse entered, the light silhouetting Ma Dane’s bulky form bent over her desk. The wet nurse walked into the middle of the room, and Ma Dane finally looked up.

  She jumped. Her eyes locked on the baby toddling at the wet nurse’s side. In some way she had imagined it frozen in time, forever to remain a silvery bundle and she could not fathom the toddler before her.

  “I trust you received my letter of resignation, Ma,” the wet nurse said, after a long silence had ensued.

  Ma Dane roused herself and a deep shudder traveled down her body.

  “She is harmless,” the wet nurse added, mistaking the shudder for one of disgust. “In fact, if I may be so bold, Ma, I think she looks mighty better.”

  She was right and Ma Dane could see that. Once you recovered from the shock of the thing, its large violet-colored eyes and pearly silver skin could almost be endearing. It was also chewing on the nail of its right thumb in a way that reminded her painfully of Asha.

  “Anyway, I must resign, Ma,” carried on the wet nurse, taking Ma Dane’s silence as indifference. “I think the child will need a nanny and . . . I am not sure how much longer she wi
ll stay in the nursery, Ma. She is a curious little thing.”

  “Yes, you must go,” said Ma Dane at last. “I had not realized that she had grown so much.”

  “Babies have a tendency to grow, Ma.”

  Ma Dane ignored this impertinence.

  “Has there been anything . . . I mean, have you noticed . . .”

  “Magic Blood?”

  Ma Dane shivered.

  “No, Ma. I believe she is just a quirk of nature.”

  “Sometimes it is slow to come,” Ma Dane whispered, but the wet nurse did not hear her.

  “I will inquire into a nanny immediately and you may leave when she arrives.”

  The wet nurse nodded before pressing her left hand to her chest in the sign of respect. She scooped the child into her arms and walked out of the room.

  The little girl peeped over her shoulder, watching the large woman behind the desk stare at her before they disappeared down the hall.

  A few weeks later, a nanny was hired and the wet nurse was permitted to leave. She had managed to secure a good place in a wealthy household, discovering that families were tripping over themselves to hire the ex-wet nurse of Ma Dane Herm-se-Hollis. Still, she knew that she would miss her amethyst-eyed baby.

  The morning before she left, the wet nurse brought the child onto her lap and stared hard into its violet-colored eyes.

  “I am confused,” she admitted. “I thought you would have dropped your strange looks by now.”

  The child said nothing, but continued to chew on her thumb. The wet nurse had been looking for signs of Magic Blood for the last sixteen seasons, but there had been no troublesome dreams, no twitching objects, and no wind tunnels. The child was as quiet and self-controlled as ever, playing with her hand-me-down toys, but otherwise doing little else.