Absolutely
an excerpt

I was nearly sixteen when a messenger came to Turrydurry with a letter for my mother.

Before that time, I had never seen a letter. I had never even seen writing. And I’d certainly never met anyone who lived outside Turrydurry.

I had assumed that my mother was the same.

We had been inside the house one evening, cooking stew for our dinner. Mother was chopping carrots, and I was peeling potatoes. There was a knock on the door. Mother turned, realized she was still holding the chopping knife, and gestured with it. I put down my small peeling knife and half-naked potato and hurried to the door.

And there he was, an unfamiliar man holding a square of white folded paper.

“Are you Vallary?” he asked.

I shook my head. “I’m Radna. You’re looking for my mother.”

“Yes,” he said, face twisting into a leathery, cracked smile.

“She’s chopping carrots,” I told him. Everyone who knew my mother knew that she couldn’t concentrate on two things at once, and bothering her when she was concentrating on something that required wielding a large, sharp knife was unadvisable. But then, this man didn’t know my mother, did he? I certainly hadn’t seen him around the town. Perhaps he came from the other side of it, or—

It hit me like an open palm. This man didn’t know my mother. This man didn’t know my mother.

Everyone, absolutely everyone knew Vallary. I didn’t know why, but she had a reputation for something—for doing something, or being a certain way that I didn’t fully understand. All I knew was that when I mentioned being Vallary’s daughter, people reacted in a certain way. “Oh, Vallary, they said, shaking their heads fondly and lifting their eyes to the sky. Or, “Oh, Vallary,” as if they now understood everything there was to know about me. My mother worked as a comforter, but she didn’t have to work hard. There was a natural tendency of people, men and women, to be fond of my mother. As a result, many doted on her, bringing her money and little goodies, or offering her deals far more favorable than they offered to anyone else. My mother took this in stride. She never seemed to think it was unusual. When I was with her out in the heart of the town, I was awed. When I went by myself, I was lucky if anyone even looked at me, especially walking home from my apprenticeship, tired and messy and covered in sawdust. Then, I would be lucky to have people say a decent good evening to me, and not a spat out “Radna the vengeful ghost”. Yes, extremely clever.

But this man had to ask. He didn’t know my mother, and so she didn’t know him. This brought a few things to mind. First of all, who was he? Why hadn’t I ever seen him before? And most importantly, if he didn’t know me or my mother, should I let him into the house? Would she want to talk to him?

“Who are you?” I asked, trying to look fierce. I realized that this was difficult when smudged with sawdust, and also that the man was a good foot taller than me. But I had learned from Mother that nothing mattered so much as how you saw yourself, so I imagined that I could inflict pain upon this man more horrible than he could ever dream.

“I was sent to Vallary,” the man said. “Go and fetch her, will you?”

“I will not!” Really awful pain, I thought. “How should I know you won’t come in and steal our things? Hanny says that anyone I’ve never seen before is bound to be a vandal and a thief.”

“Well, little Radna, that was before the Revolution,” the man said in an unpleasant voice. The way he talked made it seem as though he wasn’t imagining anything about the kinds of pain he could inflict.

“Tell Vallary that there’s a man at the door and he was sent with a letter from Lorudd.”

I ran to my mother.

“Mother,” I said, “put the knife down a moment.”

She did. She knew that this was important.

“Who’s at the door, Radna?”

I told her what the man had said to, and watched as my unshakeable mother’s face turned pale. I was glad I had asked her to put the knife down as her hand fluttered to her chest like a startled bird.

“Lorudd,” she repeated.

“That’s what he said.”

“Radna,” Mother said in a voice so sharp that it went right through me. I was startled. My mother was almost never sharp with me. I usually did what she wanted without her having to force me, and if I didn’t, it was because I knew that what she had told me to do was unimportant anyway.

“Mother?”

“Go into your bedroom and let me deal with this alone. I will finish the stew.”