Kaitlyn Sage Patterson - The Diminished

Us temple brats worked long, hard hours to build the temple’s wealth and power with no praise, no pay and little enough reward, apart from the barest necessities to keep us alive. Meanwhile, the anchorites draped themselves in the pearls I harvested from the cold waters of the bay and wore silks and furs tithed to the temple. But even their indulgence was nothing compared to the Suzerain, the twins who led the religious order of Alskad. Their power was nearly equal to the Queen’s, and it didn’t take an overly observant soul to see the greed and corruption that colored their every move, like the silver threads that embroidered their robes.

Because of this, Sawny and I had our own brand of morality. It was fine for him to steal food from the temple kitchens because they were charged with our care, and we were always hungry. I wasn’t above swiping the occasional crab that wandered by the oyster beds during my summer dives, and in the winter, when I worked in the canneries, few days passed when I didn’t pocket a tin of smoked whitefish or pickled eel. I surely didn’t feel an ounce of guilt over taking a bit of that work back for myself. None of us did.

Sawny and I took our petty crimes a bit further than most temple brats, though. While most of them stopped at stealing from anyone beyond the temple, we’d no problem with nicking baubles and the odd tvilling off the rich folks who swanned around wearing furs and jewels and waving handfuls of drott and ovstri at poor folks, like the fact that they’d money to spend somehow made them special. We were smart about it, and the likelihood we’d get caught was so slim that the benefits always outweighed the risks.

But I’d gone even further than that over the past few years. The way I’d built my own little store of stolen wealth was too dangerous, so far beyond the line, that even knowing about it would put Sawny at risk. I couldn’t tell him. But I could hint—especially if it convinced him to stay, at least until my birthday.

“I’ll be of age soon. We could go north, the three of us. I can dive and fish—the two of you could work on some noble’s estate. We’d find a way to make it work.”

Sawny took the chunk of bread from me, broke it in two and smeared both sides thickly with birch syrup butter from a crock in his knapsack. He handed half back to me and eased himself back onto his elbows, chewing thoughtfully.

“Lily wants to take a contract in Ilor.”

I sucked in a breath, not wanting to believe it could be true. Ilor was a wild, barely settled island colony, but there was work to be had, and no shortage of it. The estate owners and the temple’s land managers there were desperate enough for labor that they’d pay ship captains to bring willing folks from Alskad. All Lily and Sawny had to do was walk onto a sunship.

A part of me knew this had been coming. Lily’d talked about leaving Alskad since we were brats. Their parents were dead, and they’d no family left in Penby. What family they did have had immigrated to Ilor before they were born, hoping for a better life, more opportunities. It made sense that Lily had always seen their future on those hot, jungle islands.

“You can’t actually be considering it. Haven’t you heard the rumors? Just yesterday a news hawker was lighting up the square with a story about an estate burned to the ground by some kind of rebel group.”

Sawny laughed. “And last week I heard one of them say that Queen Runa had taken an amalgam lover. Come on, Vi. You know better than to believe everything you hear.”

“There’s no such thing as amalgams, you oaf.”

“You grew up with the stories, same as me.”

The amalgam were the stuff of childhood horror stories, meant to scare children into good behavior. Twins who’d become one in the womb, they were said to have magic that let them see the future and control the minds of other people. They were supposed to be more ferocious, more bloodthirsty than even the diminished, willing to do anything to gain power and influence. Legends said they thrived on fear and power, like most monsters. I’d never believed they were real. If they were, they would’ve ended up under the temple’s watchful eye, like every other threat.

Like me.

I made a face at him. “Stop trying to distract me. There’s got to be something for you here. Surely you don’t have to cross the whole damn ocean to find work.”

“It’s only a few years, Vi. We’ll work hard and save our pay, and when the contract’s over, we can start a new life. Maybe I’ll open a bakery. Hamil’s teeth, you could even come over with us.”

I rolled my eyes. “Don’t be an idiot. No captain would ever let a dimmy onto a ship planning to cross the Tethys, Hamil’s blessing or no.”

“You don’t know that.”

I tore a piece of bread off my chunk of the loaf and rolled it between my fingers, considering, before popping it into my mouth. The sticky butter clung to my fingers, and I licked each one, unwilling to waste even a ghost of sweetness and glad for a moment to think through what I’d say next.

“The only work you’ll get is on a kaffe farm.”

Sawny pushed a hank of black hair behind his ear and nodded. “We know.”

“It’s hard work. Backbreaking, and there’s no law there. None to speak of, at least. Nothing to protect you if something goes wrong.”

“Fair point,” Sawny said. “But since when did laws ever do any good to protect folks like you and me? The work’ll be hard, sure. Harder than anything we’ve had to do here.”

“Maybe not harder than enduring Anchorite Bethea’s worship seminars.”

Sawny’s laugh burst out of his chest, shattering the stillness of the night.

“No,” he said. “Not harder than those. But there’s no other option, Vi. And once we pay off our passage, we’ll earn a wage. Can you imagine?”

I could imagine. I’d spent hours thinking about the day I’d be free of the temple and earning my own living. Free to live what was left of my life happy, or as close to it as I could manage with the threat of inevitable, violent grief looming over me. For a moment, my mind slipped away from thoughts of that life and pondered the path our friend Curlin had chosen. She’d—Magritte’s teeth, it made me so mad!—gone and joined the Shriven. Broken every promise we’d ever made to each other and to Sawny.

That was the only other option for Sawny and Lily. It’d keep them safe and fed and earn them a kind of respect none of us could ever hope to gain on our own. We all knew it, but—unlike Curlin—we respected the promise we’d made each other, and we wouldn’t break it. Not even if it was the only sure way to keep us together. It wasn’t worth what we’d have to become.

I didn’t need to say it. I could tell Sawny was thinking the same thing.

“When’ll you leave?”

“Couple of days, I think.”

I reached out and smacked his arm, hard, without thinking. “A couple of days? How long have you been planning this?”

He scowled at me, but when he saw the tears streaking down my cheeks, he wrapped an arm around my shoulders and drew me close. “Vi...” His voice trailed off, and I knew there wasn’t anything he could say. Our friendship, no matter how important it was to both of us, was nothing compared to the bond between twins.

“You couldn’t’ve told me sooner?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Lily only settled the details yesterday. I didn’t want to tell you until it was a sure thing.”

I shoved my anger and pain down, cinching it tight into a heavy ball of misery in the pit of my stomach. Anger was dangerous, and I wouldn’t let Sawny’s leaving be the thing that broke me. Not after all this time. “I’ll miss you.”