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Asp sat in her armchair, numbly staring out the window. Iris sat on her lap, curled in a tiny ball and purring. Minutes passed without change. There was a clunking sound outside her window and to the right, but it didn’t stir her. More minutes passed. Suddenly, she tilted her head down and examined Iris.
“I’m a mess, baby,” she said softly. She looked back out the window. It was a cold, overcast winter day. “Things haven’t been the same since Dad blew up on me, Iris. It’s been two years–you’d think you’d move on. I dunno. Maybe a normal person would. But Dad was all I had. Seeing him like that . . . Oh, gods, how did I destroy my whole life by twenty-seven?” She slumped her shoulders. “I remember when it used to be enough to come home and hold you. Now the only thing that does it is ash. What am I supposed to do, Iris? I hate everything about being Heather. I want to just be Asp now. No more heavy past. Just the present.”
“Mrow,” said Iris.
“It is so possible, Iris,” said Asp defensively. “You can just move on with your life.”
“Mrow,” said Iris. “Mroooow.”
Asp cocked her head to the side. “Oh, I see what you mean. Yeah, leaving your past behind and starting over are basically the same thing.”
Iris headbutted Asp in the stomach. “Mrow.”
“Okay, maybe they’re not. But it’s the best I can do for now,” said Asp. She smiled weakly at Iris. “Come on, let’s feed you.”
Asp lifted Iris out of her lap and put her down on the floor. She turned to the kitchen and opened a cabinet, pulling out a small bag of dried meat. She tore a few pieces into small chunks and fed them to Iris by hand. Iris purred and stepped side to side with excitement as she ate. Asp smiled at her. “Good girl,” she said. “This is venison, Iris. Do you like it?” Iris chewed the venison and thrust her head into Asp’s hand for more. “It seems like you do. We’ll keep looking for the one that really flips your lid.” Iris finished the meal and sat down. “Good girl,” Asp said again. “You need to go out?” She pointed to the window. Iris leapt across the floor towards the window. “You sure do,” she said. “Be back before it gets too late.” She pushed the window open, and Iris leapt first onto the windowsill, then out onto the snow-covered grass below. She stalked off towards the goats. “Be careful!” she shouted.
There was a knock on the door. Asp walked over to it and peered out the hole she had had installed in the door. Outside stood Dirk and Georgie. She swung the door open and ushered them in.
“Good afternoon,” Asp said in a chipper voice. “Good to see you.”
“Good to see you too,” said Georgie. “Always a pleasure.”
“Aww, thanks,” said Asp. “The pleasure is mutual.”
“Okay, okay, break it up,” said Dirk. “Edith wants a meet tonight.”
Asp smiled. “Kinda short notice, isn’t it?”
“It just came up,” said Dirk. “If we don’t move quick, we lose it.”
“I can manage it,” said Asp. I haven’t worked in weeks, she thought. I’ve barely left the apartment. Of course I can manage it.
“Good,” said Dirk. “Well, we should get going back. See you soon?”
Asp felt the air rush out of her. Don’t go already, she thought. I haven’t had a conversation in ages. “Actually, if you give me three minutes, I can come with you now,” she said.
“Uh, that’s . . . that’s an option, I guess,” said Dirk. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Edith kinda assumed you would come along later.”
Asp stopped halfway to her bag. “Is it important to the plan that I not come with you?”
“Not that I know of,” said Dirk. “Sorry, we’re just used to being real literal with Edith’s instructions. It goes better that way.”
“Ah,” said Asp, “but I’m an improviser. That’s why that first job we did together worked.”
“A clash of styles,” said Georgie. “I love it.”
“Well, if you’re coming, let’s get moving,” said Dirk.
“Two minutes,” said Asp, throwing clothes, coinpurses, and other supplies into her canvas bag. “Thirty seconds,” she added, slipping into a pair of walking shoes and adjusting her hair before the mirror. “Ready,” she said.
“Wow,” said Georgie. “For a rush job, you look great.”
Asp tried to hide the fact that she was beaming. “Thanks,” she said. “Let’s go, right?”
“Let’s go,” said Dirk. He turned and walked to the door.
Asp followed him there and opened the door for her guests. They trooped outside, and, after Asp had locked the door, began walking off into the city, Dirk out front with Georgie and Asp behind.
“Where are we going, anyway?” asked Asp.
“Crosshatch,” said Georgie. “But Edith wanted to tell you the rest.”
“Fair enough,” said Asp. She studied Georgie and Dirk. I’ve known them for years now, and I still don’t really know them. “So, what’s new?”
“Aside from getting godsdamn stared at everywhere we go?” asked Dirk. “Aside from bartenders paying people to get us to leave?”
Asp winced. I had hoped they’d find that funny, she thought. Edith and Georgie did, anyway. Dirk can just be sensitive at times.
“Aside from that, it’s been good,” said Georgie, laughing. “We’re comfortable here. Edith likes it. She says using Thistlewade as a base and working the nearby settlements was a really good idea.”
“I only recommended it because it’s what I do myself,” said Asp casually. “I haven’t done in a job in city limits in a good while now.”
“Don’t shit where you eat,” said Dirk.
“Dirk!” whined Georgie. “We were having a grownup conversation. Keep your poop metaphors to yourself.”
“Whatever you say,” said Dirk playfully, “you shithead.”
Asp laughed hard as Georgie pretended to grow furious. “Dirk!” Georgie cried. “You’re bringing the average intelligence around here way down.”
“I’m smart,” said Dirk defensively. “I only been caught twice.”
Georgie nodded, her eyebrows raised. “You got me beat,” she said. “Four times for me.”
Asp nodded politely, then noticed the silence. Dirk and Georgie were looking at her.
“What about you?” asked Dirk.
Asp smiled. “Oh, it’s not that interesting for me,” she said coolly. “So how did you all meet?”
“We all ended up in this tavern back in–” started Dirk.
“No,” interrupted Georgie, smiling. “How many times have you been caught?”
Asp smiled politely. “Depends,” she said after a moment. “You mean, found out, or do you mean, locked up?”
“They’re different for you?” said Georgie, flabbergasted. “You’re saying you got caught but escaped before prison?”
“Something like that,” said Asp. “That was a long time ago.”
“So what’s the number?” asked Georgie. “We know you’ve been nabbed one more time than you’ve been locked up. How many times have you been locked up?”
Asp put on a pained smile. “Do we have to?”
“She’s saying she’s never been in a cell,” said Dirk.
“I know that’s what she’s saying,” said Georgie. “But I wanna hear her say it.”
Asp shrugged. “Fine. I’ve never set foot in a cell. The closest I came to being caught was when I was a kid.”
“You’ve been doing this your whole life,” said Georgie, “and you’ve gotten away clean every time? Even Edith hasn’t managed that. And your work is way riskier!”
“What are you saying, Georgie?” asked Dirk. “You unhappy with Edith?”
“No,” said Georgie quickly. “I’m saying, Edith is one of the best, but Asp is . . . something else.”
Something else, thought Asp. She looked down at her tiny hands. Her unadorned fingernails glinted in the light as they walked. I’d love to have some color there, but it would make me more identifiable, she thought. She sighed. Something else. A different person. She sucked in air sharply. Great. This again. It’s been two years! she thought. Move on!
“Thanks,” said Asp. “It’s not very descriptive, but I’ll take it.”
“You’re beyond description,” said Georgie. “It’s fitting, actually.”
“You get so feisty around Asp, Georgie,” said Dirk. “Calm yourself.”
Georgie blushed. “He’s an idiot,” she whispered to Asp.
“I heard that,” said Dirk.
“Heard what?” said Georgie innocently.
“You called me an idiot,” said Dirk.
“No, I didn’t,” said Georgie. “You big dumb idiot.”
“Godsdamnit,” said Dirk.
And as they continued their journey, all three laughing together, Asp felt herself starting to unfold, to talk happily, to lose herself in the moment. And before long at all, they had arrived in Crosshatch, and Asp wished that the journey had taken just a little longer.
—
Crosshatch was a sizable town comprised of low buildings gathered around a sprawling village green that surrounded a large arboretum. On the green were families picnicking and children playing; a few food vendors sat at the side of the green, selling meals in the midday sun. The trees of the arboretum reached up, twisting and turning. The skies had cleared up as they had left Thistlewade, and bright sunlight now looked down on them, gleaming on the fallen snow.
“Edith should be at the inn tavern,” said Dirk. “This way.”
He led the way around the green and to a two-story building with small windows facing the street. He held the door open for Georgie and Asp, who scurried in before Dirk ducked his head under the doorframe in a practiced motion.
Edith was sitting on a stool by a window, looking out. She sipped at a glass of what Asp guessed was brandy. Dirk led them over. Edith smiled when she saw Asp.
“Asp,” she said warmly. “So glad you could make it.”
“Sure thing,” said Asp. “It’s always good working together.”
“Did you know Asp has never been caught?” asked Georgie.
Edith nodded sagely. “I didn’t know, but that’s good,” she said.
“And she got out of being arrested?” said Georgie. “As a kid?”
Asp blushed. “Georgie, I–”
“It’s not important right now,” said Edith firmly. “We’re working. Please focus.”
It was Georgie’s turn to blush. “Sorry, Edith,” she said.
“So what is the job?” asked Asp, trying to ease the tension. “What are we out here for?”
Edith turned to face Asp. “There’s a new bank opening today. It’s a small operation, just enough to store the town’s savings. They’re expecting a whole lot of people to come and deposit their savings since there’s an offer of a free silver piece if you start an account. We’re going to hit them right after they close.”
“That would be a lot of coin,” said Asp. “This is the biggest thing you’ve brought to me yet.”
“It’s the biggest thing I’ve planned,” said Edith. “We could take some serious time off after this.”
“Or get some seriously cool stuff,” said Georgie.
“Or both,” said Dirk. “We’re talking about an entire bank.”
“A bank on opening day,” said Edith. “It won’t be as full as it will in a few years.”
“So,” said Asp, “not to rain on the parade, but won’t they be more on guard on day one?”
“Common misconception,” said Edith. “On day one, these folks won’t be experienced. Totally green guards and management. Today is actually our ideal time.”
Asp nodded. She’s not admitting that it’s a gamble. But it’s a good gamble. “And our roles?” she asked.
“You demand to speak to the bank manager. You have a precious artifact that needs to be placed in secure storage,” explained Edith. “Then you need a key to storage for your peace of mind. Then we bash the door open–”
“And they don’t suspect us because we had the key,” finished Asp.
Edith sat back and blinked. “Is it obvious?” she asked, nervous.
“No,” said Asp. “I’ve seen it in use before. It was a bit more sophisticated than this, but then, we’re robbing, not taking over.”
“You saw someone take over a bank?” asked Georgie, incredulous.
“An art gallery, actually,” said Asp. “They used the missing valuable as leverage to repossess the gallery. Which . . . have you all considered opening accounts with the bank? I mean, if they reimburse the accounts that were stolen from, we’d be getting free money. And if they don’t, we already have the money back anyway.”
“That’s a good idea,” said Dirk.
“It is a good idea,” said Edith. “Did anyone bring money?”
Dirk shook his head. Georgie frowned. Edith adopted a false smile for a moment.
“Guess not,” said Edith. “It was a good idea.”
Asp smiled. She shook the knapsack on her back. The muted sound of metal jangling inside cloth came out. “I’ve got some,” she said. “If you want, I’ll lend you some and you can pay me back when we get to town.”
“I’m okay,” said Dirk.
“No thanks,” said Edith.
Georgie looked at her companions curiously, then back to Asp. “Sure,” she said. “Can I borrow a gold?”
Asp rummaged in her bag for a minute, then pulled out a gold coin. She passed it to Georgie.
“Thanks, Asp,” said Georgie. She pocketed the coin.
“Can I go scout?” asked Asp. She had learned to be respectful of Edith’s organization.
Edith considered, an eyebrow raised. She sighed. “Sure,” she said. “Be careful.”
“I’ll be extra careful,” said Asp. “Be right back.”
Asp left the tavern and headed outside, following the village green’s border until she arrived at a grand new building. It had wide bars along its half-moon windows, and the doors hung open, the end of the line poking out. She headed inside, cutting past the line, and looked around.
The bank was of fine construction and quite utilitarian in design. There was space for six tellers to do business, plus separate areas behind the counters for the vault and management’s offices. Asp stared at the vault. She swallowed uneasily. Edith wants to knock that open? She’s off her rocker. Even if we get in when no one’s here, they’ll hear us trying to destroy it outside. She shook her head. Maybe there’s another way. She looked around and spotted the door that led to the back area with the vault and management desks. She walked over to the counter and waved over someone working at a desk, a middle-aged man wearing a bow tie.
“The line’s over there, ma’am,” he said.
“I see that,” said Asp easily, “but I had a question for the manager. Are they around?”
The bow tied man looked at her uneasily. “The manager is very busy,” he said.
“I’d like to consider being a customer here,” said Asp. “But I have a question first.”
“That’s very nice, ma’am,” said the man, “but he can’t just be summoned for anyone.”
“You don’t know me?” asked Asp, suddenly full of pomp. “I am an official diplomat of the capital city of Thistlewade. I am not just anyone.”
“Oh,” said the man sheepishly. “I’m so sorry, your ladyship. Please, let me fetch the manager.” He turned and wandered further into the back area.
Asp turned and surveyed the bank, smiling. Your ladyship, she thought. Gets me every time. She watched as the tellers did their business and dozens of coins were taken in. Every coin passed to the tellers filled her with excitement. Money in my pockets, she thought. All of you.
“Here she is, sir,” said the bow tied man. “A diplomat from Thistlewade.”
Asp turned. A somewhat short older man stood behind the counter next to the bow tied man. He studied Asp closely. “Bit young for a diplomat,” he muttered.
“I get that a lot,” said Asp. “Here, let me fetch my identification.” She pulled the diplomat’s seal from a pouch on her bag. She passed it to the older man, whose square rimmed glasses slipped slowly down his nose.
He studied the seal. He ran his fingers over the raised thistles. He turned it over and inspected the fine engraved marks around the outer edge. He whistled. “It’s genuine,” he said. He turned to face Asp directly. “Blaise Hartbranch, manager,” he said formally, reaching out a hand to kiss Asp’s hand.
She firmly grasped his hand and shook it. “Lady Penelope Jasmine,” she said properly. “Pleased to make your acquaintance.”
“And yours,” said Blaise. “Now, what brings you in?”
“I have an heirloom–quite precious, really, one might say priceless–and I would like to store it here for safekeeping. Is that a service you offer?” she asked.
“We do,” said Blaise. “Quite a normal transaction for us, really.”
“May I see the vault?” asked Asp suddenly. “I want to assuage my fears that it could be broken into.”
Blaise’s face looked strained. “That would be outside of our prescribed policy,” he said dryly.
“But today is your first day,” said Asp. “Surely your prescribed policy is not tested by time.”
“But it shall be,” said Blaise. “To allow you in would be a breach of policy.”
Asp sighed performatively. “Your policy is to treat governmental officials from the capital with such suspicion that they cannot even ascertain the value of your service?”
“It’s not like that,” said Blaise, tired. “Just as there are things you cannot do in the line of duty as a diplomat, we too must follow codes.”
“You’re right,” said Asp, pouting. “I suppose I shall stick to the line of duty as a diplomat when I offer my report to Thistlewade’s financial ministers on your new bank.”
Blaise looked even smaller for a moment. He opened his mouth to speak twice, but closed it helplessly both times. “Your Ladyship–” he began.
“Mr. Hartbranch, do cut to the chase,” said Asp almost playfully. “Will I be able to tour your vault, or not?”
Blaise’s shoulders slumped. “This way, Your Ladyship.” He held up a jointed part of the counter and allowed her behind it. He led her along the back area to the vault. He turned to her. “Please avert your eyes,” he said.
Asp placed her fingers over her eyes. She could see quite well, but to Blaise, it looked like she was blinded. He spun the vault lock this way and that, muttering just above a whisper to himself: “Left . . . right . . . left . . . right . . . and left.” The door popped open, and he pulled it the rest of the way. Inside was box after box, some closed, some spilling over with coins. The boxes were stacked on labeled shelves with customers’ names on them. Asp tried to keep her eyes from getting too wide.
“This is it?” she asked, stepping inside the vault. She glanced around as though there were nothing interesting to be seen, but noted how thick the safe wall was. Shit, we can’t get through that.
“It’s quite a top of the line facility,” said Blaise. “Or rather, it will be.”
“It will be?” asked Asp suspiciously.
Blaise pointed to the far wall behind a set of shelves. Asp focused on the wall between the shelves. She blinked a few times in surprise. Is that . . . is that just wooden slats?
Blaise cleared his throat. “The wall is being taken off tomorrow, and the last of the steel walls will be installed. It was supposed to be done already, but the door’s shipping was slower than anticipated, and so we had to either open with the vault incomplete or delay opening. I chose to open with the vault incomplete.”
Asp looked at him like a cat who has cornered a mouse. “Mr. Hartbranch,” she said, relishing the moment, “you mean to tell me that you were about to put my things in this incomplete vault without telling me everything?”
Blaise looked panicked. “No, I–” He stopped and glanced around. “I wanted to–” His breathing grew heavy. “I didn’t mean–” Suddenly, he burst into tears, sinking to the floor. “No, no, no,” he moaned. “It’s not even the end of the first day, and everything is going wrong!”
Asp smiled and began to speak soothingly. “Mr. Hartbranch, listen to me,” she said. “Get up off the floor. Compose yourself. Come now, stand up.” Snivelling, he got to his feet. “Now listen to me, Mr. Hartbranch,” she said gently, “we’re going to fix this. I’m going to leave my heirloom with you later today because I trust you. Then I’ll retrieve it in a few days’ time, and when I go back to Thistlewade, I’ll tell everyone what a wonderful bank you have here, and how everyone should approve a line of credit to the Thistlewade Provinicial Bank for you. Doesn’t that sound nice?”
Blaise wiped his eyes. “You would do that?” he asked. “For me?”
“More or less,” said Asp, smiling deviously. “I think it would be only fair that you return my favor with a favor.”
Blaise sniffled. “What favor?” he asked.
“I’m going to open an account for my friends,” said Asp. “I would like her account to accrue interest at a special rate. Something befitting friends of a powerful diplomat.”
Blaise nodded slowly. “That could be arranged,” he said cautiously.
“Good. Here,” she said, handing over a gold piece in one hand and five gold pieces in the other. “The one is for Georgina Tellebithina, though she’ll probably identify herself as Georgie.” Good thing I got her name on the trip out, she thought. She can be so fun to talk to. “The other five are for Heather Turnkey.”
“Tellebithina,” mumbled Blaise as he wrote down Asp’s instructions. “Turnkey. Understood, Your Ladyship.”
“One last thing,” said Asp. “A small thing. The backside of your bank is a lovely spot–would you mind if my friends and I put on a little demonstration back there later tonight?”
“A demonstration?” asked Blaise. “Of what sort?”
“We’re part of an amateur theater troupe,” said Asp. “Just a few short scenes, and we’ll be on our way.”
“I don’t see why not,” said Blaise. He sighed. “Is there anything else, Your Ladyship?”
Asp smiled. “That will do it,” she said. “Thank you so much for your help, Mr. Hartbranch.”
“Of course,” said Blaise. “Anything for the capital.”
Asp smiled again and curtsied. She ducked under the counter and walked outside without a glance around the bank. She trudged over to the tavern, spotted Edith, Dirk, and Georgie, and pulled up a chair.
“Change of plan,” Asp said.
Edith looked angry. “You said you were just going to scout.”
Asp held out a finger at her. “Gimme a second,” she said. “The safe can’t be cracked from the front. It’s too thick. But it’s not complete yet. If we go through the back, it’s just wood. I have an idea for a distraction that will let us get in. I’m sorry to go throwing out your plan, Edith, but please trust me when I say I have a better way.” She looked pleadingly at Edith.
Edith stared back, then sighed. “What’s the new plan?” she asked.
And Asp began to explain the new plan, taking special care to give Edith important work to do. The small gang listened intently, and when Asp had finished explaining the plan, they all sat back and looked at each other in disbelief.
—
Night had fallen. The city had ebbed and flowed in activity all day, which the gang had watched from the tavern in the inn. They had downed drinks earlier in the day, but as it grew dark, they had taken to quietly talking over half-finished glasses.
“That’s part of why I stopped working in Thistlewade,” said Asp. “I feel like I’ve already worked everyone in town.”
“I guess that’s a problem you run into when you work as much as you do,” said Dirk. “What do you do with it all, anyway?”
“With all what?” asked Asp.
“The money,” said Dirk. “You must be loaded.”
Asp smiled. “I do well for myself.”
“But what do you do with it?” asked Georgie. “You can’t just have it all sitting around.”
“I do actually have a lot just sitting around,” said Asp. “But I also have a business.”
“What do you do?” asked Edith. “You’re doing honest work now?”
“Not really,” said Asp. “I invested in a vineyard a few years ago, trying to get them a bigger profile.” She got a distant look in her eye. “You know sometimes, something really good just doesn’t get the attention it deserves? And you’re looking at it like, ‘how is everyone not into this?’ This wine is so good, and even with my money, they’re having a hard time catching on.”
“You own a vineyard?” asked Georgie, astounded.
“Not own,” said Asp. “Part owner, I guess.”
“Asp Wine,” said Georgie, “Bites like a snake.”
“Asp Wine,” said Dirk, laughing, “More than meets the tongue.”
“Thimblefull Wine,” corrected Asp, also laughing, “Just a drop is enough.”
“Ugh, maybe that’s why they don’t catch on,” said Georgie. “That’s a terrible name.”
“That’s what I think!” cried Asp.
“It’s time,” said Edith. “We all ready?”
“Ready,” said Dirk, pushing away his mug.
“Ready,” said Georgie, finishing her drink.
“Ready,” said Asp, straightening her hair.
“Let’s go,” said Edith. They all stood, each leaving a pile of copper pieces on the table. They marched outside, headed around to the back of the bank. Asp opened her bag and pulled out a great wide tapestry, and Dirk nailed it loosely to the wall of the bank. He grabbed a prybar and slipped under the tapestry so that it shielded him from the street. Asp lit a lantern and placed it on the ground in front of them. “Showtime,” she said.
Georgie slunk into the crowd and into position. Edith stood before the lantern and the gathering crowd around it and waited for silence. When the people were quiet, she spoke in a hollow voice.
“Many tales have been told in our time on this rock,” said Edith. “So many that we have begun to forget the earliest ones, and now we tell them again with the details changed to reflect our new world.” She turned slightly to face another part of the crowd. “This is not folly,” she said. “This is proof of the immutable truth of our nature, and it must be celebrated as we celebrate the beauty of nature. And so begins the tale of young Blossom, the halfling girl who created a home of her own when the world took hers from her.” Edith bowed deeply and walked backwards away from the crowd. After a moment, Asp walked before the crowd.
“I’m more normal than people say,” said Asp in a childlike voice. “They all say, ‘something’s strange about Blossom,’ but no one can say what. But I know the truth. I’m just a normal girl. Except for my parents.”
The sound of a wooden plank being pried off its foundation came from under the tapestry.
“My parents! Oh, my parents!” shouted Asp dramatically, trying to drown out the prybar. “They wanted the world of me, but I’m just a normal girl! How could I ever meet the expectations?” She swirled and sank to the ground. “Being myself is never enough. How will I ever go on?”
She glanced out into the crowd. She could just barely see Georgie pulling the coinpurse from an audience member. Good work, she thought. Keep at it.
“How tragic, this life!” shouted Asp. “To choose between making your family happy and being yourself! How can such a choice ever be made?”
Another pried board hit the ground. That should be enough to get in, she thought. Keep going.
“Every day I choose one, I am farther from the other,” said Asp, her voice quavering. “Can I ever hope to be myself and loved at once?”
Edith snuck behind the tapestry. Asp could hear boxes of coins being dumped into bags.
“Will the world ever see that what I am is worth accepting?” Asp asked. “Can anybody see me?”
“What’s she talking about?” asked one audience member.
“Something’s wrong with her,” said another.
“Oh, to be misunderstood,” said Asp, shaking a finger dramatically at the crowd. “To know that you are unknown. To be forced each day to see the ways that the world does not care for you.”
More clattering coins behind her. Hurry up, she thought. I don’t know what else to say.
“For the sweeping winds of fate will never know more than what they destroy, and I wish desperately to be preserved,” said Asp. She noticed a few members of the audience stirring as though they were about to leave. “YOU THERE!” she screamed, pointing into the crowd. “WILL YOU RECOGNIZE WHAT YOU SEE? OR WILL YOU SEE IT WITHOUT KNOWING IT?” Everyone in the crowd stood stock still. “WILL YOU LOOK AT ME AND SEE A BARREN SOUL, OR WILL YOU DOOM ME TO BE FURTHER BARREN?”
Asp heard a great bag of coins fall to the ground behind her.
“We’re good to go,” whispered Edith.
Asp nodded to herself. “No,” she said, suddenly quiet. “No, you will walk on by, never knowing who I am, and perhaps that is all for the best.” She curtsied deeply and took up the lantern.
“Was that a play, or is she just messed up?” asked one audience member.
Both, she thought, her face covered in a smile for the crowd.
The audience dispersed after a few moments of confusion. Georgie came and stood next to Asp. “Good haul,” she said, holding out nearly a dozen coinpurses.
“Nice,” said Asp. She felt exhausted. She turned to the tapestry. She could tell from the stretched shape in the tapestry that Dirk was returning the planks he’d pried. Edith pulled down the tapestry. Except for the four large bags of coins, there was no sign that anything had transpired.
“Let’s get these and go to where we can stash them,” said Edith. She grabbed a bag of coins and lifted, straining to get it on her shoulder.
“We’ve got an hour-long walk back to the city,” said Asp. “Dragging two hundred pounds of coin. At night. In the snow. Can’t we get an inn and move in the morning?”
“They’ll know by morning,” said Edith. “The safe bet is to keep moving.”
“C’mon, Edith,” whined Georgie. “Maybe an inn down the road?”
Edith sighed. “Down the road,” she said. “If we can find one.”
They started off down the road, hefting the bags over the shoulders. The slushy snow underfoot made carrying the heavy weights a challenge, but the thought of losing the score kept them moving. As the moon rose in the sky, they arrived at a small building with an attached stable.
“Looks like an inn,” said Georgie hungrily.
“We hide our stuff first,” said Edith. “We’re not getting caught with hundreds of pounds of coin at the first inn out of town.”
“Hiding places?” asked Dirk, glancing around over the snow-covered hills.
“Uh, seriously?” asked Asp. “There’s hiding places everywhere.” She bent and scooped up a pile of snow, then packed it back on top.
“How do we find it again, though?” asked Dirk. “It would be just like any other patch of snow.”
Asp laughed. “None of you are halflings,” she said. “C’mon, let’s bury it–I know how to find it again.”
“Asp,” said Edith. “You know how we are about plans.”
“Sorry,” said Asp. “I’m going to use snow to build a marker.”
“How would you build a marker that wasn’t obvious to everyone?” asked Edith.
Asp smiled. She dug out a hole in the snow, then dropped a coinpurse into it. She swept snow over the hole, then rolled a small ball of snow around until it grew. She stacked three snowballs of descending size atop the buried hole.
“See?” she said. “It’s a snowman. People make them all the time. No one would suspect a thing.”
Georgie smiled. “Nice,” she said. “It’s perfect.”
“It will work,” said Edith. “Let’s do it right here.”
In the darkness, they dug out a wide patch and laid their bags of coins down into it. Dirk swept snow over top, and Edith packed it down. Georgie and Asp rolled larger snowballs for the snowman and placed them atop the hole.
“Can we go inside now?” asked Georgie. “My feet are freezing.”
Edith laughed. “We made it, I think,” she said. “Let’s go.”
And the gang headed over to the inn, where the sleepy innkeeper showed them to their rooms.
—
Asp lay back on her bed and tried to relax. I’m still feeling weird from the distraction, she thought. That was maybe a little too close to home. Still, we’re a good bit richer than we were.
A soft knock sounded at the door. Asp looked at it, confused. She got up and walked to the door, cautiously popping it open. Outside stood Georgie.
“Can I come in?” asked Georgie.
“Uh, sure,” said Asp.
Georgie quietly slipped inside, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose. She pushed her wild curls of red hair aside and sat down on the edge of Asp’s bed. She patted the bed next to her. “I don’t bite,” said Georgie.
Asp smiled and sat down next to her. “What’s going on?” she asked.
“I’m still all riled up,” said Georgie. “I like talking to you, so I figured I’d see if you were still up.”
“I’m still riled up too,” said Asp. “Working will do that to you.”
“You were totally right,” said Georgie. “The audience was so easy to steal from.”
“Tried and true,” said Asp. “I cleaned up during a real performance. Now I look for plays wherever I go.”
“You’re always on,” said Georgie, smiling. “Always looking for an angle.”
Asp smiled. “I guess so,” she said.
“Hey, what was all that stuff about being misunderstood?” asked Georgie. “That got pretty intense.”
“Yeah, I don’t know where that came from,” said Asp. “It just kinda came out.”
“Is that how you feel?” asked Georgie. “Misunderstood?”
“I don’t–” started Asp, but she stopped. Georgie’s like me, she thought. She gets it. “Sometimes,” she said. “Sometimes it’s like, I have this whole way of being, but nobody gets it. Nobody sees what I’m doing the way I see it.”
“I see it that way,” said Georgie, putting a hand on Asp’s. “I know what it’s like.”
“You do?” asked Asp. “I didn’t think a fingertip would get priest problems.”
“Wait, are you talking about priest problems?” asked Georgie, surprised. “I thought you meant something else.”
“Yeah, I mean that it’s hard to get close to people when you survive by being someone else,” said Asp. “Intimacy is born of trust, and trust is hard to come by for a liar.”
“Intimacy is hard,” said Georgie. “If it matters, I trust you.”
Asp looked softly at Georgie. “Thanks, Georgie. I trust you too.”
“And if you have intimacy problems,” said Georgie furtively, “I could help.”
“What do you mean?” asked Asp.
Georgie smiled as though what Asp had said was silly. She leaned towards Asp, closing her eyes.
“Whoa,” said Asp without thinking.
Georgie stopped. She leaned back. “Wait, did I misread this?”
“Um,” said Asp. “Were you–”
“Nevermind,” said Georgie, hopping off the bed and walking to the door. “My mistake. I thought you were–”
I am! thought Asp. But how did you know? She started breathing more quickly. Oh my gods, say something!
“Georgie–” she said.
“Good night, Asp,” said Georgie, a touch of sadness in her voice. She slipped out the door and closed it behind her.
“Shit,” said Asp to herself. “Oohhhh,” she moaned. “I’m so stupid. She really liked me, and I . . . oh, shit.” She fell back onto the bed. Was she really going to kiss me? I mean, I always liked her. Maybe I can say something. There’s gotta be something.
Asp sighed. She fidgeted nervously with her hair, then dropped her arms to her sides. I wish I had Iris, she thought. I wish I had ash. She looked blankly up at the ceiling. I wish I had some semblance of a functional adult life. She closed her eyes and tried to relax. Shit. Georgie wanted to kiss me. And now she won’t anymore. I’m so stupid. And in the morning–oh my gods, the morning will be so awkward. She frowned. She got off the bed and dressed for the cold weather outside. She went to the desk and got the innkeeper’s attention. “Please tell my friends I had to leave, and I’ll meet with them soon.” He nodded. She ducked outside and dug out the smallest of the bags of coins, resetting the snow to look like it had. She slung the bag over her shoulder and set off through the night. The slushy ground made her journey difficult, but she arrived back in Thistlewade before the second watch change. She trudged to her apartment and dropped the bag into the space under the floorboards beside her lockbox.
“Mrow,” said Iris, just waking up.
“Sorry I’m home late,” said Asp. “But I couldn’t be away. I missed you.”
“Mrow,” said Iris.
“I always miss you, baby,” Asp said. “It was just a rough night.”
Iris curled up. “Mrow,” she said.
“That’s true, baby, a lot of them are rough nights,” she said. She sat down on her bed and ground some ash over her mouth. She inhaled deeply and held her breath. Within moments, her body was struggling to stay active. She sank into the bed and began to drift away.
“I have you, Iris,” said Asp faintly as she slipped away. “So it’s okay.”
“Mrow,” said Iris, but Asp was already asleep.
—
Asp walked along the long winding road between the hills, chewing a piece of Guarri bark, the hard dark brown fiber that soothed her ash headaches. The sunlight filtered through the tall trees, dimly illuminating the road. It was midmorning, but the trees’ shadows made it seem like she had stumbled out the door as the sun was rising. In reality, she’d slept in–the combination of ash and exhaustion from hauling thirty pounds of gold eight miles had done her in.
The road turned, and the hills became covered in snowy fields with the elaborate trellises of the vineyards. Small buildings poured columns of smoke out of chimneys. Gotta keep the wine the right temperature, thought Asp. Ginger taught me that. The buildings passed by, and Asp turned her coat against the cold breeze that blew.
She arrived at Thimblefull Vineyards and walked in, stamping the snow off her boots at the door. Ginger was sitting at the bar with an array of paperwork while Rick polished wine glasses.
“Morning, you two,” said Asp.
“Morning, Ms. Turnkey,” said Rick. He had taken to calling her that not long after the second loan she’d issued last year. “Good to see you.”
“You too,” said Asp. “Hey, Ginger.”
Ginger scribbled a few figures and turned, hopping off her barstool. “Morning, Heather,” she said. “Is it time?”
“We can get to business in a second,” said Asp. “How are things?”
“We’re good,” said Rick brightly. “It was a good year for grapes. We made some incredible classic wines this year.”
“Nobody bought ‘em,” muttered Ginger.
“They were quite delicious,” said Rick. “Some of our best work, if I say so myself.”
“And the vineyards?” asked Asp. “No need of repairs? No pests?”
“The vineyards are good,” said Rick. “And our new addition to the orchards is doing well.”
“That’s good,” said Asp. “Those should mature in another two years?”
“Should be,” said Rick. “We’re in fine shape as a vineyard.”
“But we’re not selling,” said Ginger. “The sales aren’t there.”
Asp chewed the inside of her lip. “Your saleswoman–she’s selling to people directly, or to taverns?” she asked.
“People directly,” said Ginger. “That’s how you get interest, she said.”
Asp smiled and nodded. “That’s where we’re steering wrong,” she said. “The first place I tasted your wine? At a tavern. The bartender actually described it as the best they had. See, that’s our problem.” Asp gestured with her hands, allowing herself to get excited. “We’re trying to appeal to average people. But people just see the label, and our label doesn’t demand attention. But an expert knows that what we make is special. So we get some to taverns, maybe offer a few free bottles to give them a taste, and then we’ll be selling out before we’re done bottling.”
Ginger’s eyes were narrowed. She was staring at Asp. “You know more about sales than our saleswoman?” she asked.
Asp leaned in a bit and kept her voice level. “I know what’s going to work,” she said. “And if you don’t trust me, I can take my business elsewhere. I’m sure I could find someone who wants money to do it my way before I get back to Thistlewade proper.”
“Ginger,” said Rick softly. “She hasn’t steered us wrong yet.”
Ginger’s gaze hadn’t left Asp. “Let’s say you do,” said Ginger. “Fine. Then you can run their business into the ground.”
Asp smiled. “Ginger, he raises a good point. I said invest in more orchards to expand your fruit wine offerings. Now you have those orchards, and you can triple your production of those wines in two years. I built you a new outbuilding to keep the wine at the right temperature, and now you can work around the expanded flow of grapes and fruit. I gave you what you needed to hire Henry, and now you think of him as a son.” She paused. “Why would I run this place into the ground? I have more money on the line at this point than you do.”
“But we’re still owners,” said Ginger.
“Of course you are,” said Asp. “I’m just saying that I want this place to succeed. It’s in my best interest.”
The room was silent for several seconds. Then Ginger stood and retrieved the papers she’d been working on. She placed them before Asp.
“How about this?” said Ginger. “Your plan to sell to taverns will take money. You provide the money for that plan, and we’ll see if it works. In the meantime, we do have a few small problems.”
“Let’s hear them,” said Asp, smiling.
“First, Henry needs a raise,” said Ginger. “He’s taken on more work, and we can’t afford to pay him more without breaking our budget. This expansion has us strapped.”
“How much?” asked Asp, fishing out her coinpurse.
“Eight silver on the year,” said Ginger lightly.
Asp dropped a gold piece on the table. “Give him a bonus next time he earns it,” she said. “Next?”
“Our new fields are rockier than expected,” continued Ginger. “The soil is still good, but we need a work crew to remove the rocks before we can plant the new fields.”
Asp laughed slightly. “How much?”
“Six silver,” said Ginger.
Asp counted out six silver coins and slid them to Ginger. “Next?”
“The last thing is,” said Rick, reaching under the counter, “we made a special edition just for you.” He set two matching bottles on the counter. Their labels read “Turnkey Cellars Presents: Bouquet.”
“You made a special wine for me?” asked Asp, shocked.
“It was hard to make. Lots of delicate flavors,” said Rick proudly. “But it’s like your name–Heather. We made it out of mostly floral flavors.”
“Rose, dandelion, and jasmine, with a touch of peach,” said Ginger. “Sweet, like you like.”
Asp blushed. “Aww, you two! You’re so sweet. And just these two bottles?”
“It’s a special edition,” said Rick. “So pick a special occasion.”
“I will,” said Asp. She smiled widely. “Thanks. You didn’t have to.”
“You didn’t have to scoop up our winery and finance us growing,” said Rick. “You’ve helped us a lot, you know.”
“Good,” said Asp. She took the bottles and slipped them into her bag. “I meant to.”
Ginger smiled. “About the tavern plan–”
“I got it,” she said. She dropped two gold pieces on the counter. “Get a new salesperson if she won’t work with the new plan,” said Asp. “And give each tavern two or three bottles free. This should cover our first wave.”
“How many taverns were you thinking of sending wine to?” asked Rick, incredulous.
Asp smiled and walked to the door. “Every one we can find,” she said. “All across Eunax, if we can.”
Rick laughed. “She’s a wild one,” he said.
“Be safe on the road!” called Ginger.
“Bye, Rick! Bye, Ginger!” called Asp. “Thanks again!”
“Bye, Ms. Turnkey!” called Rick.
Asp laughed. Ms. Turnkey. With my own special cellars, apparently.
She walked back along the road to Thistlewade, humming to herself. It was a song she couldn’t entirely place. Did I hear it as a kid? she thought. Did I hear it at a show? Did I make it up? She kept humming, hoping that the answer would become clear, that some musical phrase would suddenly take form in a full song. She arrived back in Thistlewade and headed to the quiet neighborhood where she had grown up. Asp came to an intersection and looked around. It was quiet. With some difficulty, she clambered up the tree at the intersection and climbed fifteen feet into the air. She scooped snow out of a hollow in the tree, and on the fifth scoop, her fingers hit metal. She smiled. She scooped out the coins she had hidden there years before. This ought to make up for what I just put down with Rick and Ginger. She put the coins in her coinpurse and shimmied down the tree. Barely even remembered it was here, she thought. It’s been so long since I’ve really needed money. I wonder how many stashes I’ve just forgotten about.
As she walked, a large man drew even with her and walked alongside her. “Hey Asp,” said a tired, familiar voice.
“Hey, Dirk,” said Asp. “I’m guessing Edith is mad?”
“Furious,” said Dirk. “I haven’t seen her like this since we got ratted out back in Alembic’s Drain.”
“And she doesn’t want me around anymore?” asked Asp.
“No shit,” he said. “I gotta know, Asp, what spooked you so bad you came running back here in the middle of the night without saying anything?”
Georgie, Asp thought. She spooked me. “I don’t want to talk about it,” she said.
Dirk gave her a curious look, then shrugged. “Edith says to keep what was in the bag and keep a wide berth.”
“Noted,” said Asp. And now I’ve fucked up the one good working relationship I ever had. “Sorry, Dirk,” she said.
“I’m sorry too,” said Dirk. “It was good working with you. Come here, gimme a hug.”
Asp laughed and accepted his hug. “Take care, Dirk,” she said.
“Take care, Asp,” said Dirk. “Don’t stop doing you.”
“Thanks,” she said. “You too.”
Dirk fell out of step and curved around to head down another road. Asp scurried onwards.
She took a corner and came to her parents’ street. She breathed deeply and walked down the street. She came to their door. She heard voices inside. She knocked twice. The voices went silent.
“It’s me,” said Asp. “It’s Heather. I just came by to see how you were.”
There was only silence.
“I know you’re mad, and I’m not gonna say you shouldn’t be,” said Asp. “I shouldn’t have lied to you.” She swallowed hard. “It was the only way you’d take it,” she said. “I didn’t want to see you lose everything, so I gave you money. Kids support their parents, okay? It happens.”
She stared at the unmoving door. Her breath became harder to draw.
“I know you’re disappointed. Because I lied. Because I lied a lot,” she said. “I’m sorry.” She felt her nose getting prickly, and her vision became blurred. “I’m really sorry, okay? It’s just–I didn’t want to be hungry. And I felt like that meant I had to be totally different from how we were. And I was so hungry that I didn’t care if that meant being different from you. And then–then I found out I kinda like being different. Not because you’re bad, because, you know, two different things can just be different instead of better and worse. I thought it was okay to just be the way I am. But you say it’s not.”
Tears spilled over her eyelids. She sniffled and sighed.
“And you know what, Mom and Dad? I don’t care. I like being the way I am.” Asp’s voice grew defiant. “I like having anything I want when I want it. And what you don’t know is that if you actually treated me like me, then I wouldn’t have to lie to you anymore.”
Asp looked down at the porch. She wiped her nose on her sleeve.
“That vineyard I work for made me a special wine,” said Asp quietly to the door. “I’m really important over there now, and they wanted to thank me with a special wine.” She flinched at hearing her own voice crack. “Anyway, um, I thought you might like it. So, uh, I’m gonna leave it here on the porch, and then I’ll leave, and you can get it.” She sniffled again. “I love you,” she said.
She fished in her bag for the wine bottle and pulled it out. She looked at the label. Turnkey Cellars. Huh. Our name has never been on anything before. She put it down on the porch and walked down into the street. She walked a block down, then ducked around the corner and watched. After a minute, her father poked his head outside and grabbed the bottle before heading back inside. Asp burst into tears. He won’t even talk to me. It’s like I didn’t really believe it until I saw him come out. She turned and walked away.
She came to her apartment. She went in and pulled the wine bottle from her bag. She uncorked it with a corkscrew she’d won in a bar game and held the bottle to her lips. That’s good, she thought. That’s really good. She drained half the bottle in a go. You know what would go great with this? Ash. She drank again from the bottle and put it down. Special occasion, huh, Rick? How about “it’s been two years since your family has acknowledged your existence”? That’s a pretty special occasion. She drained the rest of the bottle and lay down. She grabbed the familiar bag. She pulled out the familiar cube of ash. She ground a quarter of it . . . a half . . . three-quarters.
She woke up three days later, her insides on fire. She couldn’t drink enough water or chew enough Guarri root. Never again, she thought.
You can read the next chapter here!
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