“Fifty copper?” Mom asked.
I nodded, proud.
“Really?”
I nodded again, suddenly less confident under Mom’s unreadable gaze.
“Fifty copper per tiller and prod. Uhm. Per crossbow body. I’m giving Elsee another five per day to just cock that crossbow and fire at clay targets all day. I haven’t negotiated with the Smiths yet, though.”
“Hmm.” Mom rested her hand on her chin in thought.
Inwardly, I started to panic. Was that a good hmm? A bad hmm!? I began to feel slightly nervous. It was a good deal. It had to be!
Eventually, Mom lifted her eyes and stared at me again. I found it slightly unnerving how little emotion she was giving away. We weren’t mother and daughter at the moment. We were master and apprentice, and I had just attempted my first solo project.
I’d been certain I’d done well. I knew how much similar crafts cost! Hell, a bow could go for fifty copper! A crossbow tiller had to be worth more!
Yet I felt more nervous with each passing moment.
“You said she would’ve preferred to make a deal with you right there, rather than bargain with me?” she asked, a slow smile creeping across her face.
“Yes…”
She chuckled. “Daughter… I could’ve negotiated for hours and not gotten such a price. She should have charged a silver on top! Each!”
My eyes widened. “Really!? That much?”
“Well done, my girl!” she said exuberantly.
I flushed.
“It… it was your reputation more than anything I did! And I’m certain the war caused her to lower her price!”
“None of that matters when held next to the final price. Fifty copper each!? If not for the sheer quantity you intend to craft you’d be robbing them!”
“That’s what Elsee said!” I exclaimed happily.
Mom’s expression fell.
“Ah… Elsee. You… didn’t truly have to pay the girl at all…”
“Mom…” I scowled.
She chuckled. “Fine, fine. Best to have some motivation for the girl. Seventy copper a fortnight for a young girl is a decent take. Still, we spoke of her desire to be a hunter a long time ago. You could’ve convinced her to do it for the sheer love of it."
“Maybe,” I said. “But then they’d be her bolts. This way, I’m buying them and I get to be the one who supplies the entire town.”
“Ah yes… your altruistic plan to give these expensive tools to every jackdaw in the town, and all of their sons and daughters besides,” she said skeptically. “After handing out pepper pouches to half the town, people are going to start thinking you have more money than sense!
I shook my head. “Do you have any better options?”
“We could stick with my original plan!”
I shook my head. “It’s a good idea, but it’s not fast enough. Added to that, you’re the best merchant in all of Pemolar’s Hill. Probably in all of Tacuria. That and… well… the miller.”
Mom’s expression darkened immediately.
“I could’ve lived without that little reminder. This deal with the Carpenters is almost good enough to make me forget that heaven's cursed tragedy! Are you determined to toss away every penny of your new windfall?”
“We’ll make it back in the end. We could certainly use her goodwill. We have no idea if the miller in Potato Gully will even be there, and taking trips down there right now to mill grain is out of the question!” I replied sharply.
“You’re justifying your bleeding heart after the fact! You know that woman is going to rob us blind!” Mom said.
“Well then, it’s a good thing our deal for the crossbows is going so well!”
“I wouldn’t count on that. Fedenat is a much sharper knife than Omoali,” she said.
We stared at each other, both insistent on our points of view. Mom’s eyes suddenly brightened. “Omoali… gods, to be a fly on the wall when she tells Mularet! Hah!”
I snickered.
We both laughed.
The laughter died, far too soon.
We’d addressed the deal with the miller. We’d spoken at length about her plan to train half the town in fire magic, instead of going to Denarla to trade for the food we desperately needed. We’d talked endlessly about Dad and Reid, and the others who had left, wondering if they were okay.
We’d spoken of Burnom, and we’d talked of Berkenem. We’d confirmed that the crossbow truly did produce a limitless supply of ammunition.
We… we didn’t have anything left to talk about. Nothing left to discuss. No… no more distractions.
“So… Mom. About… what we talked about last time,” I said.
Mom looked as uncomfortable as I felt. "You mean… you’re talking about April, yes?”
I nodded. “We… uhm…”
“I…”
Both of us lapsed into awkward silence again.
This was stupid. Since when did I feel embarrassed about anything? Either she’d accept it… or… or she wouldn’t. Fed up with my own lack of confidence, I met my mother’s eyes and just blurted it out.
“You don’t think I’m crazy, do you?”
I intended to sound demanding and a little irritated. What came out was less ‘demanding’ and more ‘fearful mewling.’
Mom’s eyes widened. “No! I.. No little onion! I could never…! It sounds far-fetched, but it explains so much. The songs. The stories that no one else has ever come up with. All the inventions and ideas! It’s… amazing and terrifying, all at once. I’m just so sorry that I didn’t realize. I did remember that night. You came into our bedroom and almost asked if you could join us, but just threw a blanket on the floor instead. You shivered all night. And I just thought it was a bad dream.”
I winced. “Technically, it was. That’s all she’s ever been. But when I woke up, I remembered how she lived. My memory’s not perfect, though. I think back to when she was little in the sixth grade, learning biology, and the memories are every bit as faded as if I were her. Do you remember what you were doing ten years ago? It’s like that. I remember generalities. She… grew up faster than I did. Experienced things I wasn’t ready for. I had a seat for all her decisions. The good and the bad.”
Mom looked lost for a moment, trying to process everything I’d just said. I could read the conflict on her features. She only had more questions now.
“Sixth grade?” she asked, thankfully beginning simple.
I nodded. “Her world… had formal education for just about everyone. Well, no. That’s not right. Her country did. Her world had good places and bad ones. Children attended general schools until the age of eighteen. After that, they could work or continue learning at their own expense.”
“A country so wealthy it can afford formal education for all of its children? Gods, it sounds a paradise!” Mom said. “Then again… what monumental cost!”
I laughed. Mom would think in terms of expense.
“April was… fortunate. More so than we are. More so than even nobles, though she never knew it. The people in her country lived like kings and queens, but spent their entire lives yearning for more. There was no content there. Her country had three hundred million people, and yet she was more alone than I’ve ever been,” I said.
“By the gods. Three… three hundred million!?” she said. “How… how could they even live? Did the sleep atop one another in beds stack to the sky?”
I laughed. “That’s ridiculous. But… not entirely inaccurate. Do you remember my story about skyscrapers!?”
She gasped. “They… they’re real!?”
I beamed. “They were in her world.”
Mom was growing more animated.
“Tell me more. What was her country called? Could we go there? See this place? Did she… have family?”
I laughed and began to explain. It felt… wonderful. A weight bearing down on my shoulders, finally lifting off of it. After all this time, I had someone who believed me. After all this time, I could fully be myself around my Mom. I could tell her all the stupid things that she’d never had context for before.
I told her of America. Of Florida, and Denver, the two places April had lived longest. Of skyscrapers, and Disney. I told her of cell phones.
I told her about Elvis Presley, and I told her of Nine-Eleven. At a certain point, I just started listing all of the events from a Billy Joel song, or at least all the ones I could remember.
Eventually, she ran out of questions, though I was sure there would be more. My throat began to hurt, and we took a walk to the river for some water, which prompted me to tell her about water fountains, bottles, sinks, and toilets.
I told her there was no magic in April’s world. At that, she truly did look at me like I was insane. Atrinaska Farmer was a woman obsessed with trade, so much so that she’d rediscovered teleportation all in an effort to become a royal merchant for the Duchy. A forth daughter, desperately searching for her niche. She patently refused to believe that there was no magic involved when I told her of the wonders of April’s world. Particularly the cell phones.
In the end, she was left with only one burning question.
“Do you… know why? Do you have any idea?” she asked.
I laughed bitterly. “I asked myself that so many times. Why me? What made me the only person who seemed to dream of another life entirely? No one else did. Does. Not Haddy, or Akkiwa. Not Reid. I… learned to stop asking when people started thinking I was weird.”
“I see,” she said finally.
“So… where does this leave us?” I asked.
Mom looked at me happily. “Well, your deal with the miller is still going to give me nightmares tonight, if that helps you sleep.”
“It doesn’t,” I said.
I wasn’t really in the mood for jokes.
Mom sighed. “It doesn’t change anything, Mera. I know a little more about you now. I’ll likely ask questions when no one is around, but I don’t intend to tell anyone about April, and we’re still hiding your talent. Nothing will change at all. You’re still my little Onion, and I’ll always love you.”
I beamed. I… hadn’t really expected her to say anything else, but I thought I still needed to hear it anyway.
“I’m… that… I’m relieved, Mom. Thank you.”
Mom smiled, then turned to look off toward the lake, and far to the south. She sighed, as if coming to a tough decision, and turned back to me.
“You’ve been open and honest with me tonight, Mera. I… want to return the favor. I should’ve told you this before you left. It ended up hurting you. Poisoning your opinion of a man that sounds like he might’ve turned over a new leaf.”
“Maulander is an asshole. Worse, he’s incompetent. We would be better off with you at the head of that army than him.”
“Don’t interrupt me, please? This isn’t easy to talk about, Mera.”
I winced. “Right. Sorry. Please, go on.”
Mom steeled herself before turning to look at me.
“I was assaulted shortly before the Rift was created.”
My eyes widened.
“The person who did it, as you may have guessed, was named Lundryth Guard. Maulander’s older brother. At the time… he was my bodyguard.”
I suddenly felt ill.