Unbroken: 13 Stories Starring Disabled Teens Page 12

  Days passed, and the Belfry grew taller. Weeks passed, and Delfin grew stronger. When the bells rang to mark the end of the workday, he no longer dragged himself back to his bedroll. Instead he walked home by different routes. Along the banks of the Leie, where merchants from across the continent did business. Around the castle that loomed over the city, while the stone poorters’ houses faced it proudly. Past the chapel of Saint Michiel that stood directly opposite the church of Saint Niklaas. Delfin had always known Ghent was a town of churches, but he’d never seen this many towers. And everywhere he turned, the city breathed in deeply and expanded farther.

  Ghent wove a home around Delfin, but it wasn’t until the eve of the feast day of Saint Laurentius that the city claimed his heart. Or rather, it wasn’t the city that did so, but the messenger girl who stood to the side of the square in the low morning light. She wore the colors of the weavers’ guild and leaned on a crudely carved cane. She stared up at his bell tower with either wonder or fear, he couldn’t tell from the distance, but then her eyes found his, and they anchored him like dowels inside a wooden joint.

  Never before would Delfin have considered abandoning his work. But right there and then, he would’ve walked over had he not been up on scaffolding. Her presence called to him in the way she stood there, like a saint in the rising sun’s halo, as she watched the Belfry with a skeptical eye and a prayer on her lips.

  “Boy!” one of the master carpenters called down to Delfin, forcing him to draw away and climb higher with the ropes he was carrying.

  From there, the tower and the work swept him up again, and when Delfin next found time to check the square, the sun was high in the sky, the church bells cascaded around him, and the girl was nowhere to be seen. And work absorbed him once more.

  But when the sky changed to the burnt orange of dusk, Delfin climbed down the scaffolding and found himself across the road from her. She stared at him, then away, when he caught her eye.

  The other apprentices passed them and called their good nights. They laughed at the girl or went out of their way to avoid her. Mathis—one of the senior apprentices—smiled at her. She didn’t respond.

  Delfin’s eyes never left her. He crossed the narrow street to the point where the shadows of the three tallest towers crossed each other, and he smiled. “Hi.”

  “Hi.” The girl looked paler now and pained. She’d pushed her long black hair behind her ears and held what looked like a message in one hand. The other clamped around her cane, where she flexed and clasped her fingers.

  Delfin cleared his throat. “Are you looking for one of the masters?”

  “No, I…” She pushed the scrap of parchment into her coat and seemed at a loss for words. “You work on the tower?”

  He glanced up to the magnificent high-rise, with the four small turrets surrounding the bells. It awed him. The Belfry was a beacon to the townspeople. Its bells shaped the days and the hours. And the beam structure, designed by one of the guild’s architects to cover the bell cote, was finally starting to find its shape. Pride swelled inside him. “Yes, I do.”

  She stared at the tower in wonder, and that made her softer. Everyone looked at the tower with hope and awe. He wasn’t old enough to remember the plague that had swept through the city and the surrounding lands, but the fear still resided in many. A dragon would protect them from the sprites that caused the illness, from the war that raged south of here.

  “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” he asked softly.

  “It is.” It looked like she wanted to say something more, but instead she turned and fled.

  * * *

  Sunday was a day of rest to those who could afford it. Dean Vaernewyck could, and as such, so could Alix. Like all servants, she followed the dean’s family to church in the morning, and in the afternoon, she shared in a lavish lunch in the dean’s kitchen.

  Still, relaxation was a luxury, and not one she appreciated. She’d rather work off her bond as fast as she could. She did not like to rest, even when her joints demanded she did. She didn’t want to be bound for years longer.

  After church, she climbed up to one of the narrow rooms on the highest floor of the guild house. This attic was scarcely used but for storage. The windows, however, provided an excellent view of the towers and dragon perches.

  Alix unfolded the parchment spells and stared. Spells of influence. Spells of love. Spells that gave her answers to her questions. But she hadn’t asked any.

  When the carpenter’s apprentice spoke to her without mockery, kindly even, she hadn’t known what to say. She’d learned to expect scorn, because expecting anything more only led to disappointment. She didn’t know how to deal with kindness. Kindness scared her.

  But she needed answers. She needed to know when the boats would sail west to bring home the dragon. If she stowed away before the day of the dragon, before the entire city celebrated the carpenters’ guild’s accomplishments, she could slip out of the grasp of her bond—slip away from this place. At any other day, she would be too visible, and the guardsmen would know her too well.

  She only had to muster up the courage to ask.

  * * *

  Three weeks later, the roof that capped off the bell cote was halfway finished, and the girl was back in the shadows of the square.

  Delfin didn’t simply carry water and nails anymore; he helped to construct and create. He worked on the tall beam structure that supported the bell cote and on the wooden supports inside. He was still not as broad as the other apprentices, but he had begun filling out and was growing more comfortable still.

  And she was there.

  She stood on the same point again, right across the street, where the shadows of the towers lined up. He’d seen her pass through on occasion, on assignment for the weavers’ guild. Mathis managed to tell him she worked for Dean Vaernewyck, but he never got the chance to talk to her again, because he only ever saw her from high on up and she was far below, constantly moving.

  Now she was there, at the edge of dusk, with her hair bound in a messy braid. She waited. She stood tall against the people who staunchly avoided her, as if they couldn’t begin to touch her. And that, more even than her unguarded curiosity, appealed to Delfin. He recognized that determination.

  Mathis saw her, too, and grinned. “Go on then. I’ll cover for you.”

  “Thank you.”

  Before Mathis could answer, Delfin climbed down the wooden ladders along the scaffolding. He kept his head down when he passed one of the masters and swore when he caught his hand on a splinter, and all the while keeping his eyes on her. Hoping she didn’t disappear.

  Finally he jumped down in front of her. “Hello again.”

  “Hallo.”

  “Can I help you?” Delfin didn’t know what he expected, didn’t know what to ask her, exactly. And she didn’t seem to have an answer ready, either.

  She cocked her head. “What’s it like, working on the tower?”

  “It’s like coming home, you know?” He spoke without thinking, though he was only now discovering what those words meant.

  And she stepped back, looked away. “No.”

  Oh. He recognized that pain so easily.

  She opened her mouth and closed it again, and she grasped her cane a little tighter. Then she shook her head. “Never mind.”

  She turned away, but he reached out and touched her shoulder. “Wait.”

  She stilled and glanced back at him.

  “I’m Delfin.” He held out his hand.

  Very cautiously, she took it. “I’m Alix.”

  * * *

  From the perspective of a dragon, life exists where chance and predetermination meet. This meeting was, perhaps, a little bit of both.

  From that moment, Alix and Delfin settled into a rhythm of happenstance meetings and purposeful meetings and unquestioned secrets and unanswered questions.

  * * *

  “May I take you to the market?” Delfin asked her a few days later. “There are ani
seed-flavored biscuits and waffles. Mathis told me I simply had to try the waffles, and you know the way far better than I. Perhaps what I’m asking is, will you take me to the market?”

  It was as simple as that. Alix had never said yes to that question before, but he’d offered her his hand and his name, and his joy was infectious.

  Alix nodded, fighting a half smile. “I’ll show you the way.”

  She took his arm and he bought her an aniseed-flavored biscuit.

  * * *

  “Have you seen the other side of the city?” Alix asked him next, tentatively.

  “What other side?”

  “The city that exists away from the busy streets, along the narrow paths and around the churches. The city that the servants know but the guild members don’t.” She leaned on her cane a little more heavily today, but that didn’t deter her from moving.

  “We know more about the city than you think—” he started to protest, but when he glanced at her, there was just the smallest hint of a twinkle in her eyes. “Show me.”

  So she took him to the abbey grounds and the hospitals, where the plague survivors lived and worked for the charity of the masters. She took him to the back alleys, where children played around ramshackle houses that looked nothing at all like the lodgings he had as a guild apprentice. She showed him how the richest parts of the city—the poorters’ stone houses—were only a heartbeat away from the forgotten parts. All the pieces of the city were building blocks that together formed a whole. Imperfect, but living, breathing, dreaming.

  And Alix fit nowhere. Delfin could see she didn’t belong in the poorest parts of the city, because she was a bonded servant, bound to one of the wealthiest men in town. In the poorters’ district, she was a tangible reminder of the plague sprites, so even though the plague had nothing to do with her limp, people warded themselves against her. She was spat at and laughed at whenever she made her way around the guild houses.

  “It’s lonely, isn’t it?” he whispered, after they sidestepped a group of children flinging scoops of mud at her.

  She was silent. She remained silent for such a long time, he was sure she hadn’t heard him. Then she said, “I don’t know how to change that.”

  He began to speak, but she swirled around, and her eyes were like a smith’s forge, fierce enough to bend everything to their will. “Let’s just keep walking.”

  “Together, then.”

  * * *

  “Where do you want to go next?”

  “Anywhere.”

  “That’s too easy.”

  “Everywhere.”

  * * *

  Delfin lay on his bedroll. In the dim light of the moon, he used a small penknife to carve a piece of wood. He didn’t know what he was making. He usually let the knots and natural shape of the wood guide him. But tonight he could only think of long black hair and stormy blue eyes that flashed whenever she spoke of this city. He recognized that feeling.

  He knew all too well what it meant not to belong.

  But these past few weeks together … he would build new walls around the city if it would mean keeping her close and spending more time together.

  * * *

  Alix curled up on her bed. It was late, but the pain wasn’t so bad tonight. She noted the tendrils of fire that looped and curled around her hips. After using her cane for another full day, her elbow and shoulder ached, too. She’d worn this cane ragged. She would have to find herself a new one soon. But she might be able to sleep for a change.

  If she could silence the whispers in the back of her mind.

  What would happen if she asked Delfin about the ships that would ferry the dragon in? Would he think their friendship was only because of that? Was it friendship? Was this what friendship felt like?

  She muttered the spells like prayers.

  What if she misjudged this feeling? What if she misjudged him? What if she believed in him? It could be friendship.

  But what if she never made it out of here?

  Her thoughts tangled together like the heavy ships’ ropes on the side of the quay. Maybe her best course of action was to not ask him anything. Not yet, for risk of pushing him away. Not tomorrow. Maybe the day after.

  * * *

  Not the day after. Nor the next day. Or the next.

  Not when the city itself kept twisting and turning around them, measuring time by the bells atop the Belfry.

  Delfin and Alix measured time by the biscuits they bought at the market, by the hidden city she showed him, by the stories he told about his former master and the gossip she picked up in the dean’s kitchen, by the messages she delivered and the support structures he built and the free moments they could spend together.

  Not this week. Not this month. Not yet.

  * * *

  “Why do you love this city?” Alix was growing restless. Delfin was so comfortable here, she did not know whether she hated him or envied him for it. For all the time they spent together now, this distinction still chafed. Every time they walked the city, he showed her that he loved it as fiercely as she hated it. She’d taken him to her attic, and he seemed at home there, too.

  He grimaced. “I never knew what it meant to fall in love, but I knew what it meant to create,” he said softly. “Being here … I’m building. And I’m part of something greater.”

  He was an outsider, and yet he belonged here, while she was born here and had never found her footing. With every step she took, the cobblestones rattled her ankles and knees. The steep, rising streets mocked her. And the cold coming in from the river settled into her bones.

  “My sister was like that.”

  “And you?”

  “I can never forget that the city devoured her and my father.”

  “The plague?”

  She flinched. Nodded. “Yes.” The plague devoured them. The loneliness devoured her.

  * * *

  Weeks passed. The Belfry buzzed with excitement. The builders on and around the tower were at the same time exhausted and exhilarated. The Belfry wasn’t at all done yet, and the great council was already talking about expansions. The weavers’ guild wanted a cloth hall, according to what Alix heard from Dean Vaernewyck. The city wanted its towers to be higher and prouder.

  But the bell cote at the top of the tower was finished. The day of the dragon drew near.

  And all Delfin wanted was for the bells to ring, to release him from this workday. He wanted to find Alix.

  * * *

  She saw him coming, and she marveled how he fit here now. He walked as someone who knew his surroundings intuitively, sidestepping uneven patches in the road, dodging carts with market wares. She should probably teach him to be more wary of pickpockets, though; they hadn’t got around to that yet. She’d learned to use her cane as a weapon, but there were plenty of urchins with nimble fingers around.

  She stepped into the shadows and waited for him.

  The excitement from the Belfry site had cascaded down through town. With every message she delivered, at every guild house she visited, people were talking about the dragon now, in all the languages of the city. Even Dean Vaernewyck had mentioned to her in passing that when the mythical copper beast found its way into Ghent, he expected her to take the rest of the day off. But she needed more than that.

  Delfin walked closer.

  She couldn’t settle for this. She had to ask him. She had to know when the boats would set sail, which boats would set sail to carry the dragon home. That had always been the plan, after all. For all that she now smiled whenever she saw him, for all that she felt a little lighter when he was near, this had never been about comfort. His kindness scared her. His friendship scared her. It was so much easier not to trust people, because at least she’d never be disappointed.

  She told herself it had only ever been about escape.

  * * *

  He saw her fold back in the shadows. Pain flashed across her face, and her cane wobbled. She looked both lost and determined. She smiled much more
easily these days, but that guarded look she’d worn the first times they had met was back.

  “It’s soon, isn’t it?” she asked.

  He walked with her along the Wheat Quay, where the imposing warehouses were stacked close and the river was ever busy. His fingers brushed her free hand, then he pulled away again. “Yes.”

  “And then the dragon will come?”

  “Once we create a perch noble enough,” he said, repeating what Mathis had told him.

  “What does that even mean?”

  His smile was crooked. “When the bell cote is finished and this section of the belfry is done. Then the ships will set out to Bruges to collect the dragon and bring it home.”

  “Out of the city…” She stared westward, and the tight set around her shoulders loosened.

  “Alix, the guild masters know the dragon will cause a distraction. The council may be proud, but it isn’t foolish. They care about the city’s safety. They’ll protect the boats. Ghent would be vulnerable to those who would sneak in.” He glanced at her, sideways, not quite acknowledging her. “Or out. And the guild doesn’t wish to be responsible for that.”

  There were unspoken words to his answer. A plea in his voice. Please don’t ask me.

  But her determination, he’d learned, was unwavering. Still her voice hitched. “Please. Please just tell me which boats. I’ll find a way. I have to find a way.”

  * * *

  He flinched, as if she’d hit him. Delfin had guessed her plan. And the pain that spread through her—the ache of her joints and the break of her heart—was mirrored on his face. “You know I can’t.”

  “You know I need to know.”

  She reached out to him, but he stepped back and asked the question she dreaded most. The question she would’ve asked, too, in his shoes. “Was this the only reason you wanted to be friends?”

  She should deny it. But she couldn’t.

  “Please tell me.”

  * * *

  The city looked different when he ran back to his guild. Less like belonging and more like the city Alix knew. One that was hostile, all sharp edges and harsh corners. It reminded him of the home he’d left behind, and he knew, oh he knew all too well, why she wanted to escape, too.