The Mad Raven's Tale (The Accarian Chronicles Book 1) Andrew Walbrown (early readers TXT) 📖

“We had four walls, a roof with holes, and one bed. We slept in the same bed most nights, using each other’s warmth in place of blankets. Eventually, we had scraped together enough money to afford a blanket.” Pelecia smiled. “I felt like a queen; no more cold nights. I cannot tell you how exciting it was.”

I never knew any of this. Amantius looked at Ulam, who was sitting on the floor, his entire attention directed towards their mother. Apparently, he didn’t know either.

“But the feeling was short-lived,” Pelecia continued, her expression darkening. “My mother had contracted some foul illness, a plague of sorts that had swept the island. I witnessed as, one by one, our neighbors died; their bodies withering away until they could no longer function. My mother was no different. I watched as this proud woman who spent every day hauling monstrous fish out of the ocean became so feeble she could not even get out of the bed. From then on all the responsibilities of the house fell on my shoulders: cleaning, cooking, fishing, trading, and so on.”

“That year was a particularly good year for fishing, or perhaps because there were fewer people fishing I was able to catch more. Day after day I caught more fish than I needed, selling the excess to local merchants who smoked and salted the meat before taking it to the city. I had collected quite a bit of coin during that time; I planned to move to the city after my mother recovered because even during the darkest of times I still had hope for her. Unfortunately, she died months later, leaving me alone in the world.”

Pelecia muttered something under her breath, a tear slipped down her face. “After she died I packed all I could carry and moved, unaware the city was infected with the same plague as well. I moved into a house near the docks, slightly bigger than the home I had shared with my mother. I then went to work fishing, since it was all I knew how to do. Day after day I toiled in the sun, hoping to catch dinner. I constantly reeked of fish guts, sweat, and sea salt, but after some time I no longer noticed the odor. It was not the only smell that no longer registered in my mind; the plague had claimed so many lives that I no longer smelled death. I accepted that death was coming for me too; it was nothing short of miraculous that I avoided it for as long as I did.”

“Then one evening, on my way home from the docks, a man offered to carry my day’s catch home for me. I refused, mostly because I did not need the help, but also because I did not know his motives. He politely accepted my refusal and disappeared, only to offer again the next evening. I refused again, and again the next day as well. I cannot recall how many days in a row this man offered to help me before I finally conceded. I made some stew for him, like my mother had made, as a way of thanking him.” Pelecia chuckled. “The stew was awful, but he was very polite. To this day I do not know how he ate so many bowls.”

“We spent the night talking about everything. History, philosophy, the different types of fishing nets, different types of metals. He told me about what was happening in the city, rumors and the like. He knew a lot about the palace, telling me he had family that worked within the palace and they routinely passed along gossip. Among his stories was one about one of the princes, who was looking for a wife now that he was of age. All the most beautiful maidens of the kingdom had been brought before him, but the prince was not interested in any of them. I asked him why, and he replied, ‘because the Prince wants a woman with intelligence, one that can hold a conversation with him.’ It made sense to me; if I had been searching for a husband I would have wanted someone like that as well.”

“He visited me many times over the next few weeks, each time I tried to cook something different for him, each time he ate two helpings regardless of how detestable the food was. Everything was going great, but then one day we got into a fight.” Pelecia looked annoyed, as though the fight had happened only hours ago. “It was a stupid quarrel; I do not even remember what it was about. But it was bad, really bad. A day went by, then two, then three. Then a week. Then a second week. He was gone.”

Pelecia frowned. “A huge hole opened in my life. He was a lone sliver of light in my otherwise dark world. Without his visits, everything slipped back into the same, monotonous routine. Fish, cook, clean, repeat. I had not truly realized how important he had become or how much our friendship mattered to me. But just when I thought things could not get any worse, they did.”

“I got sick.” A dark cloud passed over Pelecia’s face. “Really sick. At first, I thought it was just a cold I got from being on the water too long. But then a few days went by and I realized it was much worse. I lost my appetite, and then my strength. Within a week I could not even get out of bed. My whole body ached; I coughed up blood. At first, I was in denial, but deep inside I knew it was the same plague that killed my mother. Of course it was, the symptoms were exactly the same; I had the same rashes, the same sores. I thought I was going to die. And honestly, I was in so much pain I was ready to die.” Pelecia shivered at the memory.

Amantius was shocked; he