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lizbeeSummary: Three days after her grandfather's death, Estelle wakes thinking of Shanghai.
Rated: G
Notes: Although I'm not normally in the habit of warning for character death and angst, this here is a warning for character death and angst. Because I ran the scenario past cesario, and she asked if I had somehow depleted my serotonins for this lifetime. Also, spoilers for The Language of Bees. Spoilery spoilers that spoil.
Towards Their Light
By LizBee
Three days after my grandfather's funeral, I woke up thinking of Shanghai. No, more than that, remembering. A smell, a hint of song, a place that had once been home. England had been my home for twelve years, but it was not my birthplace, and I no longer had my grandfather's protection against the assumptions of strangers.
I bathed and dressed, humming a song in Mandarin. At first I could only remember the tune, but eventually the words crept to my lips. I didn't think the song had been taught by my tutor.
The sun was higher now, but I wasn't hungry, nor was I ready to face a table of sympathetic adults. Justice Hall might be my home now, but only a few of its denizens were my family. I was fifteen years old, and quite alone in the world.
Almost.
At the bottom of my trunk, concealed within its base, was a package of papers. I contemplated them for a moment, although I had memorised nearly every word printed within. I cast a speculative eye on the lock of my desk, and wondered if perhaps my trunk might be safer for now.
There was a knock at my door. I hesitated, but before I could answer, it swung open, revealing the Duke of Beauville.
"Gabe," I said, but I couldn't find the energy for anger. In fact, I was suddenly pleased to see him. He hovered in my doorway, looking more like a junior under-gardener than the heir to an ancient seat. "You may as well come in," I said. "I don't think anyone's so much as spoken to me since the funeral."
"Mother says you need space. But I thought you might accept breakfast." He fished in his pocket and withdrew an apple. I hesitated – food had been tasteless for months, eating a necessity to be avoided rather than a pleasure – but the scent was overwhelming. Shanghai. A fruit-seller. My mother's arms. I took a bite, and it was tart and perfect.
I made up my mind and stood up, clutching the papers under my arm.
"Come for a walk," I said.
Without speaking, we turned towards the Circle. It was a long walk, occasionally punctuated by conversation, more often silent. By the time we arrived, the sun was high. Gabe produced another apple from one of the pockets of his long coat, and we sat and watched the wind play over the grass.
"What will you do?" Gabe asked eventually.
I shrugged. "Go to school, I suppose. If one will have me." I had an unpleasant suspicion that my inheritance would be enough to overcome any official reluctance to take a student of my exotic background.
"Can always run away if it's too bad."
"And work as a mechanic for two weeks until your mother catches up? That's your idea of amusement, not mine." I looked down at the folder in my lap. "I'm going to Shanghai," I said.
It took him a second to realise I wasn't joking. "Now?"
"As soon as I can persuade the solicitors to give me some money."
"Is this, um," he hesitated, "do you hate England?"
"What? No!" Although – twelve years, and I could measure them by counting the names of the dead. My mother. My father and my grandfather's wife. And now my grandfather. A family of ghosts. I sometimes fancied I could feel their unquiet spirits watching me. A manifestation of my own guilty conscience.
"Grandfather and I were going to go two years ago," I explained, "but then he became ill, and we put it off, and he never got better." We listened to the wind for a moment. "I have a sister," I said, "a half-sister, I should say, from my mother's first marriage. I need to find her."
"It can't – this is going to sound callous, sorry, but Estelle, can't it wait?"
"I think I've already waited too long." I held out the package. "This was in Grandfather's files. He gave it to me before – I'm running out of time."
I walked away as Gabe read, circling the stones and trying not to look at him. It wasn't merely my sister's secrets I was sharing, but mine, and my mother's. Gabe was my brother, and I needed him, but he was a product of a safe and loving family, and his rebellions had an innocence I couldn't share.
At last, he finished. I waited for him to speak.
He said, "Your sister's father killed your parents."
"And Grandfather's wife," I said. All I remembered of her was an impression of strength, but I knew the shape of her mind because my grandfather had moulded me in her image. Fair trade: she had died saving my life, after all.
"Estelle," Gabe began.
"If I wait until I'm of age, she could be lost forever." I looked at my hands and considered the inheritance of proclivities. There were too many things I had learned for the first time, opening that package, and I cursed my family for being too far away to question. And yet, my mother had saved herself; why not my sister? But I couldn't gamble on it, not with her life.
"You're very smart—"
A genius, my tutors said, if they could be persuaded to stay for more than a month.
"—But you're only fifteen, and Shanghai is—"
"Yes," I said, "but I have to go."
To find one soul in a vast city of strangers.
"I know," he said eventually.
I held my hand out. "I need you," I told him. "You're my brother."
There was a flicker of something I didn't understand in his eyes, but he said, "Yes," and took my hand.
Relief broke over me like a wave: I had no plan and little hope, but I had an ally. Relief, and something else. My vision was blurred; I stumbled half-blind into the centre of the stone circle and let the tears flow at last. Twelve years and all my dead, but I had Gabe's arms around my shoulders, and far away, I had a sister.
Oh yes, and hope.
end
Rated: G
Notes: Although I'm not normally in the habit of warning for character death and angst, this here is a warning for character death and angst. Because I ran the scenario past cesario, and she asked if I had somehow depleted my serotonins for this lifetime. Also, spoilers for The Language of Bees. Spoilery spoilers that spoil.
Towards Their Light
By LizBee
Three days after my grandfather's funeral, I woke up thinking of Shanghai. No, more than that, remembering. A smell, a hint of song, a place that had once been home. England had been my home for twelve years, but it was not my birthplace, and I no longer had my grandfather's protection against the assumptions of strangers.
I bathed and dressed, humming a song in Mandarin. At first I could only remember the tune, but eventually the words crept to my lips. I didn't think the song had been taught by my tutor.
The sun was higher now, but I wasn't hungry, nor was I ready to face a table of sympathetic adults. Justice Hall might be my home now, but only a few of its denizens were my family. I was fifteen years old, and quite alone in the world.
Almost.
At the bottom of my trunk, concealed within its base, was a package of papers. I contemplated them for a moment, although I had memorised nearly every word printed within. I cast a speculative eye on the lock of my desk, and wondered if perhaps my trunk might be safer for now.
There was a knock at my door. I hesitated, but before I could answer, it swung open, revealing the Duke of Beauville.
"Gabe," I said, but I couldn't find the energy for anger. In fact, I was suddenly pleased to see him. He hovered in my doorway, looking more like a junior under-gardener than the heir to an ancient seat. "You may as well come in," I said. "I don't think anyone's so much as spoken to me since the funeral."
"Mother says you need space. But I thought you might accept breakfast." He fished in his pocket and withdrew an apple. I hesitated – food had been tasteless for months, eating a necessity to be avoided rather than a pleasure – but the scent was overwhelming. Shanghai. A fruit-seller. My mother's arms. I took a bite, and it was tart and perfect.
I made up my mind and stood up, clutching the papers under my arm.
"Come for a walk," I said.
Without speaking, we turned towards the Circle. It was a long walk, occasionally punctuated by conversation, more often silent. By the time we arrived, the sun was high. Gabe produced another apple from one of the pockets of his long coat, and we sat and watched the wind play over the grass.
"What will you do?" Gabe asked eventually.
I shrugged. "Go to school, I suppose. If one will have me." I had an unpleasant suspicion that my inheritance would be enough to overcome any official reluctance to take a student of my exotic background.
"Can always run away if it's too bad."
"And work as a mechanic for two weeks until your mother catches up? That's your idea of amusement, not mine." I looked down at the folder in my lap. "I'm going to Shanghai," I said.
It took him a second to realise I wasn't joking. "Now?"
"As soon as I can persuade the solicitors to give me some money."
"Is this, um," he hesitated, "do you hate England?"
"What? No!" Although – twelve years, and I could measure them by counting the names of the dead. My mother. My father and my grandfather's wife. And now my grandfather. A family of ghosts. I sometimes fancied I could feel their unquiet spirits watching me. A manifestation of my own guilty conscience.
"Grandfather and I were going to go two years ago," I explained, "but then he became ill, and we put it off, and he never got better." We listened to the wind for a moment. "I have a sister," I said, "a half-sister, I should say, from my mother's first marriage. I need to find her."
"It can't – this is going to sound callous, sorry, but Estelle, can't it wait?"
"I think I've already waited too long." I held out the package. "This was in Grandfather's files. He gave it to me before – I'm running out of time."
I walked away as Gabe read, circling the stones and trying not to look at him. It wasn't merely my sister's secrets I was sharing, but mine, and my mother's. Gabe was my brother, and I needed him, but he was a product of a safe and loving family, and his rebellions had an innocence I couldn't share.
At last, he finished. I waited for him to speak.
He said, "Your sister's father killed your parents."
"And Grandfather's wife," I said. All I remembered of her was an impression of strength, but I knew the shape of her mind because my grandfather had moulded me in her image. Fair trade: she had died saving my life, after all.
"Estelle," Gabe began.
"If I wait until I'm of age, she could be lost forever." I looked at my hands and considered the inheritance of proclivities. There were too many things I had learned for the first time, opening that package, and I cursed my family for being too far away to question. And yet, my mother had saved herself; why not my sister? But I couldn't gamble on it, not with her life.
"You're very smart—"
A genius, my tutors said, if they could be persuaded to stay for more than a month.
"—But you're only fifteen, and Shanghai is—"
"Yes," I said, "but I have to go."
To find one soul in a vast city of strangers.
"I know," he said eventually.
I held my hand out. "I need you," I told him. "You're my brother."
There was a flicker of something I didn't understand in his eyes, but he said, "Yes," and took my hand.
Relief broke over me like a wave: I had no plan and little hope, but I had an ally. Relief, and something else. My vision was blurred; I stumbled half-blind into the centre of the stone circle and let the tears flow at last. Twelve years and all my dead, but I had Gabe's arms around my shoulders, and far away, I had a sister.
Oh yes, and hope.
end
