Page 14 of A Forgery of Fate

The firecrackers tempted me. Nomi delighted in watching them explode, and Fal liked burning them too—but my budget was fifty jens, and as much of it as possible was going to food.

Everywhere I went, my blue hair drew mistrustful stares, and people clutched more tightly at their purses. A silly instinct, if you thought about it. If Iwerea thief, I’d know exactly where their valuables were. But it was like sorcery, being able to make the crowds disperse with my presence. It made shopping almost…fun.

From the festival tents, I purchased a stack of spirit money—joss paper with silver strips—a prayer lantern to honor Baba, and a bag of sweet pancakes for Fal. The rest of my coin I spent at the wet market: a slab of raw pork ribs, a half dozen duck eggs, three black chickens, a bag of slightly bruised pears, and one fresh crab. I probably overdid it, for when I returned home, Mama immediately rose from her chair.

It was never a good sign when she was there, waiting for me with a cup of twice-brewed tea.

I dropped my bags on the ground, and out of respect, I took the tea and drank. Its bitterness left my mouth dry.

As soon as I set the cup down, she began the interrogation. “How much did you sell?”

“Enough to feed us for the next week,” I replied. I passed her the lantern. “This is for tonight.”

She ignored it. “You spent everything on spirit food?”

“On food for us.”

“Tru! I told you—”

“It’s not your business how much I spent,” I said over her. My tone was even, and I took pains not to raise it. “Falina and I pay the rent. We are responsible for this household.”

Mama stepped back, stricken as though I’d slapped her. I’d been raised the A’landan way, to obey my parents and never argue or question them. But the past few years had taught me a hard lesson: that if I relied on Mama, my sisters and I would be short a roof over our heads.

“How much?” Mama said again.

I waited a beat too long. “Three hundred.”

She knew I was lying. Her face darkened, and she grabbed my sleeve, reaching for my knapsack.

“Mama!” As we twisted about each other, I blocked her arm with my own. “Stop.”

“Give it here,” Mama cried. “Let me see!”

When I wouldn’t give in, her hand came swinging.

The slap was harder than either of us expected, and it knocked the air out of me. My hand jumped up to my cheek, and Mama jerked back. She’d aimed for my shoulder, for me to let go of the bag. I knew that much from the shock that filled her eyes.

Mama’s strength went out. She crumpled to the floor,tears streaking down her cheeks.

Setting down my knapsack, I knelt beside her. A mouse scurried toward the groceries, but neither of us moved. I spoke first: “Why do you need the money?”

I touched her arm. “Mama, tell me.”

“You should take Fal and Nomi,” she replied. “Leave me. I’m not worthy of being your mother.”

Sometimes she said this to be dramatic. But I could tell that wasn’t the case today. Something had happened. Something terrible.

I turned my mother by her shoulders. She’d become small and frail, and her wrists were nearly half the size of mine. But that wasn’t what saddened me most. It was her eyes. There used to be such fire in her gaze. Such strength.

What happened to you, Mama?I wanted to ask, but I didn’t dare.

In the months after Baba disappeared, Mama had been a barrel of strength. Every morning when the first light tinged the sky, she’d wake us to search for Baba. “We’ll scour the entire continent to find him,” she’d say. “We won’t stop until we do.”

We hounded every sailor in every port for news, we rapped on gates and wrote messages on strips of bamboo, passed them out across the city to spread word about Baba. But all we learned was that his ship had sunk and the cargo could not be salvaged.

It became clear that we’d have to leave Gangsun if we wanted answers. “In the spring,” Mama decided. “Until then, we’ll focus on raising the money.”

But oh, how that first winter tested us. Our rooftopbuckled under the snow and our windows were rimed with frost. Then Nomi got sick, with a cough that seeped deep into her lungs and a fever that wouldn’t go away. I’d never forget how Mama spent every last coin of our savings on medicine and doctors—and how the three of us cried when Nomi’s fever finally broke.

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