Excerpt:

I always loved color. The blue of the sky before sunrise, so deep it felt like falling in. The fresh green of new young grass. Goldenrod. Leaves in fall, scarlet, orange, yellow. The red and pink roses at the gate of the Sendoa estate that I passed on the way to market.

It was only one street out of my way, and sometimes I’d pick a rose petal from the ground and take it with me, rub the softness between my dirty fingers. Even without looking, it felt blush-pink, and it left my fingers smelling sweet. Once I thought the guard wouldn’t see me and I started to pick a rose, but he called out, “What are you doing?” and I fled, my fingers damp with green juice.

Eight years old. Ma got sick and Da took to ale. My older brother Eliaso was apprenticed to a saddlemaker and Da said I needed to find something useful to do, to bring home something other than lice. Ma said he was being cruel, and he yelled at us both.

I stole a bit from the market, but I was always afraid. Eliaso was the scamp. He’d steal a piece of fruit and tell you he didn’t while his mouth was still full. He wasn’t afraid, or at least I never saw him show it. I stole a neatly wrapped sausage from Ceto the butcher and he saw me. He picked up his knife. I dropped the meat and ran, my heart in my throat, so terrified I couldn’t even cry.

Da hit me for coming home empty-handed. Ma protested and he hit her too, then spent the next hour sobbing into his ale. I was mad that he’d bought it, since of course we didn’t have the money, but I knew enough not to say that!

I snuck out early the next morning, determined to find another way. I’d be an apprentice like Eliaso!

I went to the Tur’s saddle shop first because Da said once that he knew Tur. I stopped just inside the door. “Sir, I want to be an apprentice.”

The man didn’t look up from the long strap of leather he was working. “Don’t need one.”

“But…” this hadn’t occurred to me. “But I’d work hard! I’d do anything you needed.”

He looked up. “Don’t need one,” he repeated. I stared at him helplessly. He looked me up and down. “Is that a girl under all that dirt? Gessar’s girl?”

“He’s my da.” I looked down.

He put down the leather and leaned both hands on the battered table. “What’s your name? I forget, it’s been so long.”

“Mila.”

“Mila, tell your da he needs to lay off the bottle and find you a good position himself.” He frowned at my aggrieved look. “Something proper. This isn’t the place for a girl. Go on home.” He looked down at the leather and then back at me. He looked like he wanted to say something else, but finally just shook his head and picked up the awl again.

Back in the street I tried to keep from being discouraged. I’d try another saddlemaker.

“Get out, girl! Go on!”

Rejected faster that time. Another was the same. Then I tried a carpenter because I was near the end of the leather district.

“Out of my shop! Take your thieving filthy hands out!” I scowled at that, since I’d never stolen anything from him, but I tried again next door.

“I don’t need an apprentice.” That one was kinder at least. “And if I did, I wouldn’t want a girl.”