Chapter Five: Moving On Up

Val was sure that if she tried hard enough, she could remember her mother's face. She still saw that face in her dreams sometimes, but whenever she was awake, her face seemed to fade with the sunlight. She awoke from her first night with the Vinzennos with a yelp, for she'd just relived her mother's death.

She couldn't remember her father at all, obviously. Her mother had insisted that he was an important officer, that he'd promised to return and to pamper her, to heap wealth and good fortune upon her. Then he'd died in the Sudrenese War, the great war, before he even knew he had a daughter, and neither wealth nor good fortune was forthcoming.

Val remembered her mother's smell more than anything else. She must have been an herbalist of some sort, because she always smelled of a dozen mixed herbs… but above all, she remembered smelling coriander whenever she buried her face in her mother's apron. At some point, they'd moved to Wayfair, but Val couldn't have told you when. Before she was five, certainly. They'd lived in a house a lot like the Vinzenno residence, though perhaps not quite so nice - one or two rungs down the economic ladder, though she'd been far from poor.

Then her mother had died, bleeding to death in an alleyway as Val looked on, too scared to move because the men who'd done it were still nearby. By the time she crawled over to her, weeping into her mother's coriander-smelling apron, she was almost dead… but not quite. She'd grasped Val's little hand so hard it hurt and then brought her up to where she could whisper.

"Remember your name," she said, and then she whispered that, too.

She wouldn't forget her name. Not ever. Her name, obviously, was Valkyrie Valicent.

Sometimes in her dreams, Val saved her mother and they went to live on the seaside, where they had a great big garden… even nicer than the one just past Dunsinay Way, where the rich folks took their strolls. But that night, she watched her mother die for the fiftieth time, and she awoke with a yelp and glanced around to see if anybody had heard it. Nobody had, because she was all alone in a room that would have bunked six orphans back at Mrs. Lavoie's.

Val pulled on her striped shirt and dungarees, because she wasn't sure if she was supposed to be dressing as a boy all the time or just when she went outside. She didn't want to dress as a boy, especially because she'd be taken for a little kid, but she didn't want to be cooped up forever, either. She padded downstairs into the kitchen, where Ette was already in his sturdy work leathers and busy pan-frying fritters over a mixed-gas burner. He heard her approach when the stairs creaked and looked over his shoulder.

"Why are you wearing those old clothes?" he said.

"Do you want me to wear something else?"

"Wear whatever you like, girl, but if you wash those twice they'll still be dirty."

She shrugged and approached, standing on her tiptoes so she could watch him work. He sprinkled salt and spices over the fritters, which looked to have potato, cheese, and scraps of meat. He flipped them over at exactly the right time to make them all a uniform, golden brown and then laid them down on wadding paper to wick off the excess grease. She reached for one, but Ette smacked her hand so quickly that she almost didn't see it.

"Go wake up the missus and tell her we've got fritters, berries, and café."

+++++

After breakfast, Ginn ran Ette through a list of people with prices on their head who needed capturing, where they were likely to be found, and whether they were likely to fight back (and how vigorously). Val noted that the folks with the higher prices on their heads had more associates and were a lot more dangerous. None of them was worth five crowns, though. Ette and Ginn also provided security, but that was scheduled in advance and usually occupied evening hours when it happened at all. Ette picked a handful of contracts out, Ginn vetoed a half-handful as too uncertain or dangerous, and he slipped out with papers and notes on eight wanted men and women.

After that, Ginn showed Val how to do filing and then had her bathe before putting on her 'boy disguise'. It wasn't even a bath day, but Val observed that people in the Vinzenno's social class had a slightly higher standard of personal hygiene than your typical orphan. They had their own tub in the basement with a little drain tube running into the house's sewage grate and a five-gallon gas boiler that could heat up enough water to make the cool pump water reasonably warm when you mixed it in. They had a sponge for everybody in the house - including a brand new one with a 'V' sewn into it. Val was glad that Ginn was out of the room, because she cried when she saw it. They even had a special soap that you were supposed to use on your hair, which Ginn insisted that she use and then called out instructions on its use from the next room over. You were supposed to let the soap sit for five whole minutes in your hair before you washed it out.

Afterward, Ginn waited for Val to dry off and dress in her underclothes before coming in to see to her attire. She combed Val's hair out, remarking that she had about the nicest hair she'd ever seen - shoulder-length, full and ruddy-red with a hint of waviness to it. The red color marked her as at least part-Sudren, though most Sudren and part-Sudren (like Penny) had curly or frizzy hair.

"Not all Sudren have curly hair and green eyes," Ginn said. "Their kings and queens had wavy hair and eyes in all sorts of colors, just like you."

"Really?"

She nodded. "So I've read. They were bred for their magecraft, but those traits got snuck in at some point down the line. Okay… now, as much as it pains me to do it, I'm going to put your hair up into a bun. Pay close attention, because you'll be responsible for doing it for yourself next time."

Val though she could do a serviceable bun all by herself - she wasn't a little kid. But she waited and watched and picked up a few tricks from Ginn that could probably have her looking better. Then she slipped into her 'boy clothes', which made her giddy and a bit nervous because it meant they were going out.

"Eye drops," Ginn said.

Right… she'd almost forgotten. Violet eyes would be a giveaway. Val administered them herself, blinked back the dryness, and pulled her (well… Galvan's) tweed courier cap over her bun. When she saw Ginn's thrilled expression, she frowned, just like she'd told her to the other day, and then winked to make sure Ginn knew she wasn't serious about it. Ginn gave her a big thumbs-up.

As she and Ginn walked down Resonant Square and through the quarter, nobody gave Val a second look. There were still a few Brothers of the Penitent Order out and about handing out fliers, as if there was anybody left who didn't know about the orphan girl worth five crowns. One of the brothers even handed a flier to Ginn but didn't give Val so much as a glance. Even so, Val reached out and squeezed Ginn's hand and then grimaced internally because she was acting like a little kid.

With mounting horror, Val realized that Ginn was taking them to the precinct constabulary. How could she have misread the situation so catastrophically? She pulled her hand free and was about to dash away into the bustle of pedestrians, but the look that Ginn offered back was full of nothing but concern. Val almost smacked herself - the Wayfair constables didn't give a damn about 'Valerie Jade'. Only the Pale Circle and its dozen-plus associated orders did.

"Visiting the constabulary is just part of the job," Ginn said. "You can wait outside if you like."

Val shook her head. She would not be waiting outside. No thank you, ma'am.

Instead, they walked right in and nobody paid Val any mind. Actually, that wasn't quite true. One of the constables leaned over the administrative desk and brought himself just a bit too close to Val's face, grinning like a madman.

"Who have we got here, Mrs. Vinzenno?"

"Nephew on my side of the family, Constable Grones," she said. "This is Clyve… Ette's taken him on as an apprentice - trial basis, for now…"

"A bit young to apprentice, isn't he?"

"He's eleven… so a bit young, but mostly just small for his age. But he's sharp as a whip. Aren't you, Clyve?"

"So I'm told," Val said. She tried to lower her voice, but it was pretty obvious that that's what she was doing.

"Buck up, son," the constable said. "If you're fast enough, it don't matter that you're small. Are you fast?"

Val bristled at being called anybody's son, but she channeled that emotion into resolve. "I'm fast," she said, and she did the one and only sleight of hand trick she knew, making one of her tuppence coins appear between her fingers as if by magic.

The constable guffawed. "Oi, Verne! Check out what this boy can do!"

Val repeated the trick, to which Corporal Verne rolled his eyes and did the exact same trick. Then he flipped the coin from finger to finger - the corporal was a bit of a hand-magic aficionado.

"Yeah, but could you do that when you were eleven?"

The corporal admitted that he could not, and everybody took it in good spirit. Ginn picked up the latest bonds and handed the constable-clerk the bounties that Ette had already finished. He'd already turned them in to the south precinct along with the bond-jumpers, but it could be days before the paperwork made its way around, so she was giving it to them as a courtesy. Val appreciated that Ginn and Ette were, apparently, scrupulous about keeping a good rapport with the local constables.

She chatted with the boys (and one woman - they weren't banned from the constabulary but were rare) for another ten minutes before she took Val's hand and they were on their way.

Back in the bustle of the street, Val looked around for her fellow orphans but didn't see anybody she knew. This part of town was a bit far from Mrs. Lavoie's, and the further you got from the Green Procession the sparser the chit-scrounging orphans were. Ginn and Ette were lucky that she and Pudge had stopped by their place at all - Resonant Square was a twenty minute walk from the orphanage. And now she had a five-crown price on her head.

"Where are we headed?" she asked.

Ginn gestured vaguely with her chin. "We've got to get you some clothes."

Val pulled at the tweed vest of her outfit. "I've got clothes."

"Proper clothes," Ginn said. "You don't have to be in disguise when you're not out…"

"What if the Penitent Order comes looking?"

"Then we'll tell them to piss off. They've got no business coming into my home, and I'll poke any bastard who tries." Ginn pulled her jacket back and tapped her finger against the hilt of a dagger. Val hadn't even noticed it before, and she resolved to be more observant about such things. She'd have to be if she was going to be apprenticed to a bondsman, for she had no desire to be 'poked'.

They proceeded south to Green Procession, which was the largest marketplace on their side of Wayfair. The Riverway Promenade was probably a bit closer to Ginn's place on Resonant Square, but that was where all of the well-heeled people shopped. Val had ventured up that way a few times, but the constables there were pretty good about chasing urchins off, so there was no real reason to frequent it. Though, dressed as she was now, they'd probably let her walk right in.

They entered the Green Procession through its north promenade and continued down for a few blocks. Ginn asked Val if she wanted a skewer of roast vegetables, to which Val vigorously nodded. It was a stupid orphan who passed up free food. Ginn bought a pair for tuppence and handed one to Val, who had two peppers and a tomato off and was licking the marinade from her fingers before Ginn could even blow hers cool.

"Slow down, Val. They're not going to run off," Ginn chuckled. She grabbed Val's hand and guided her toward the clothier's shop.

The shop was actually a store front with a big canvas-covered extent of walkway jutting out past the building. They had three racks of women's clothes, one of which was labeled Junior Ladies - Fall Discount. The discounted clothes were all gently-used, but they looked to be in excellent-repair and newer than anything Val had ever worn. Ginn picked out a shopkeeper's dress in Val's size and then told her to pick out anything on the rack that she liked.

"Anything?"

"Anything on the discount rack," Ginn confirmed.

Val picked through for a minute, very much aware that to any passerby she would appear to be a young boy picking through what were most definitely not boy's clothes. She ran her finger along the tweed of her little vest - it was sturdy fabric, though not as sturdy as her canvas jacket. Ginn would probably want to throw 'old Betsy' (the jacket) out, since its left side now had two prominent stains - Pudge's blood and a long smear of sticky varnish from the fake censer.

Val picked through the clothes. One was a green mercantile dress not so different from the one Ginn wore. More importantly, it wasn't so different from the one Penny wore at the herbalist's, and Val almost nabbed. It. Then her finger ran along something so soft and fuzzy that she had to give it a second glance.

It was a velveteen jacket, intensely violet with slightly-squared shoulders and a double-breasted lapel. The skirt was lighter blue with dark blue flowers embroidered down the side and a little lacy hem. Her finger traced along the little flowers, feeling the subtle bumps of the embroidery. She could imagine a lady of means wearing the outfit for an afternoon out, laughing over tea and discussing politics. Or whatever it was that ladies of means did. Val wasn't quite sure.

"This one," she stated. She unpinned it from the rack and pulled it to her chest like she was waltzing with a lover.

"It's…" Ginn said. "I did say anything. All right. I'm sure you'll have an opportunity to wear it."

Fortunately, the store had an actual indoors area with a dressing room so Val could try the dresses on for size without anybody on the street seeing. Anybody but Ginn, obviously, because there was no way she was being left out on the street. She picked and mumbled over the outfits, unhappy that both were a bit loose in the back and shoulders but reasoning that Val would probably grow into them.

Grow into them… that implied that Val would have them for a good while. She started tearing up at the suggestion, which Ginn noticed right away. She pulled Val into a hug, running her fingers along the squared velveteen shoulders of the dress jacket.

"It's okay, girl. You don't like the dress?"

"I love it," Val said. It was the least functional, most amazing piece of clothing she'd ever worn. She could walk the city from end to end and nobody would ever see an orphan who had to work for chits. "It's really mine?"

"I certainly won't fit into it," Ginn said. "Here. Go pay the lady."

She pressed four shillings into Val's palm. Four whole shillings. It was more money than she'd ever held at once. She dashed out to the little awning where the proprietor was sitting and forced the four shillings into her hand, gushing over how much she loved the dress. Ginn chuckled and explained that it was for Lordsday services, which the woman accepted while muddling over what had happened to the slim boy with the tweed cap who'd gone in. A boy who bore little resemblance to the pretty girl in the violet jacket and blue dress making little twirls under her awning.

"Okay, back into trousers," Ginn whispered. She nudged Val back into the shop, and she reluctantly changed out of the Best Dress Ever and into her boy disguise. She had to redo her hair, obviously, and managed to make her bun almost as well as Ginn had that morning.

+++++

"Well you look pleased with yourself," Ette said.

Val couldn't help herself. She was still in her trousers, cap, and vest, but she had a skip in her step that Ginn had to keep reminding her to tone down. Boys weren't supposed to bounce around like that and she was a boy until she got back home. Home.

"I know plenty of boys who bounce around."

"Not serious boys, nor boys with five crown bounties," Ginn said. That was a fair point. Especially the second bit.

"Fine."

But the skip kept coming back.

By the time they returned with the folder of fresh bounties and Val's two dresses it was almost noon and Ette had returned from his morning rounds with a bounty in the bag. It was only a three-shilling bounty, though, which meant he had to go out for another if the household was to keep in the black.

"That bishop's bounty should keep us afloat for a while," Ginn said.

"But not forever," Ette said. He kissed Ginn and took the stack of fresh bounties. "That money's going toward our house on the seaside."

When Val asked what he'd got for fetching the bishop, he told her: forty pounds, which was almost four crowns. No wonder he hadn't been tempted by the five-crown offer for her. She'd helped him fetch a golden goose. Ette shuffled through the new bounties until he found one he liked.

"How about this one? It's worth a golden three," he said.

Val had never seen a golden three, let alone a crown piece, but she knew it was worth three pounds, which made it a quarter of a crown. It was ten farthings to the pence, twelve pence to the shilling, twenty shillings to the pound, and then twelve pounds to the crown. In practical terms, a farthing was worth practically nothing and a crown was worth a whole lot.

Ginn looked over the bond paper with Ette, eventually concluding: "I don't like it. You know she'll be with her brothers in the Gage's Den. They'll throw fists or blades and she'll bolt at the first sign of trouble."

"You'll probably right. I'll need a good lookout."

Ginn lifted her reading glasses from where they were dangling between her bosoms and tapped them against Ette's hard leather. "My sight's not what it once was, husband."

"True. But you've got the monocular, and we've got a Val."

"Ette, you're not taking her out…"

He crouched down to Val's face level, which she didn't care for at all. "How's your eyesight, Val?"

Since he'd called her 'Val' instead of 'girl', she decided to answer him anyway: "Pretty good. Better than most."

He nodded. "Good. And what does the little writing on our mantel clock over there say?"

Val furrowed her brow. "Fa breekim in osha?"

"Fabrik im Enosha… that means Made in Enosha in Nostric," Ette said.

"Ettebono Vinzenno, you are not taking that girl out for a bounty," Ginn said.

"What will people think if they never see my apprentice, 'Clive', with me? She'll be pulling lookout and nothing more. I'll set her up across from the Den and all she need do is watch and whistle."

"I want to do it," Val said. It sounded exciting and she wanted to earn her keep. She especially wanted to earn the dress with the velveteen purple jacket.

Ette gave Val his son's leather duster - it wasn't chem-hardened like his getup, but it was plenty protective. Galvan had worn it on the few times he'd gone out with his father before deciding that a bondsman's life wasn't for him. He'd only been eleven at the time but, even so, the duster was a bit too big for Val. Once again, Ginn assured her that she'd grow into it and Val had to stifle her smile.

She was basically an official apprentice bondsman now. Bondswoman? Bondsgirl? Val wasn't too sure of the terminology, but she muddled it over as they hoofed it out west toward the Burrowing Rounds, which was not a nice part of town. You could see the deterioration of the city as you walked west from Resonant Square, going from the faded glory of well-kept century-old buildings and gradually transitioning toward buildings that were not well kept and had probably never been glorious. It wasn't unusual to see collapsed roofs or to pass by buildings where the whole front face was gone. They'd been destroyed in the war, which had been over since a bit before Val was born. Her father, whoever he was, had died in the Sudrenese War. Val wasn't even sure which side he'd been on.

"Not much further," Ette said. He reached into his pocket and fished out something silvery and about the size of Val's thumb. "Take this."

Val turned it over in her hands. "A whistle?"

He nodded and then pointed down the block. "I want you to climb up to the roof of one of those buildings. The back exit of the Gage's Den is just yonder in that dark little warren. If you see a woman with long, dark hair sneaking out the back, I want you to blow on the whistle as hard as you can. And if she or anybody else makes for your position, I want you to give it two fast blows. Toot-toot. Do you think you can do that?"

"Toot-toot," Val said. It didn't sound too hard. "Who is this woman, anyway?"

"Viana Forsooth… she's a witch and not the good kind."