The girl who fell from the polar star - Chapter 4: Tears

It was evening at Glenn’s General Store when Stella, drenched in sweat, entered and collapsed into a chair. The cold trickles running down her back were like torture. She took a hand towel from a nearby shelf and wiped herself clean.

“I’m even less fit than I’d imagined,” she said. “I’ll never make it to thirty like this.”

‘Keke! Bad news for you, good news for me! I’ll finally be free, eh? Freedom!’

“Hey, I’d never leave you behind. When I face annihilation, you’re coming with me.”

‘Tha’s not a very ’uman way to put it, y’know . . .’

“We’ll share a grave, you and I!”

‘You betcha, eh!’

Stella was completely burned out after just walking around and talking a little. This won’t do, she thought. I’ll start training tomorrow, build some endurance. With that in mind, she quenched her throat with some warm, nasty water from a pitcher and turned to Marie and Rye. They had been gaping at her since she started talking to the bird. “Finally, some peace and quiet. Get comfortable, you two. No need to stand there.”

They didn’t answer but only stared back, confused.

“This is Glenn’s General Store, your new home. Marie is going to take care of the store and do all the housework. Rye is going to take care of the store as well and also be my conversation partner. Beck will do all the manual labor and whatever else needs doing—he’ll stand between us and danger if it comes to that. Today you’re all free to sleep after dinner, but before you do, write down everything you’re going to need to live here. Tomorrow I’ll give you the money so you can buy it yourselves. That’s all.”

Stella clapped her hands, satisfied, then struggled to her feet. She wanted to wash herself by the water jug. Filling it up every time is such a bother. Or it would be, but she’d barely ever done it. She couldn’t make the trip without collapsing along the way.

As she was about to take the first step, Rye stood up and thundered, “Wait! What the heck? You think we’re just going to be okay with this?!”

“That’s irrelevant. You are a slave. You piqued my interest, so I bought you. Now you’re mine, and you will obey me.”

“You’re out of your mind!” Rye cried, and lunged at Stella.

She tried to raise her Magic Crystal in defense, but Clever was faster. It happened in an instant—the bird leapt, and then Rye was pinned to the ground. Clever was larger than a common parrot, with wicked talons and a beak that could rip a man apart and wings that could cut through steel. He was a force to be reckoned with, and bore the title of Sacred Beast with pride.

The Clever of yore, that is; not this one. Stella couldn’t be quite sure she was remembering it right.

‘Lay a ’and on Master and I’ll rip ya to pieces, eh? Fifty years is all she’s got—and she’ll enjoy every minute, you ’ear me?’

“S-Stop! You’re hurting me! Please . . .”

‘Where’d that anger go, eh? You know what, I’ll do ya a favor—you only need one eye, so ’ow about I remove the other one for ya? Would you like that?’ The bird grated its beak in threat.

Stella clapped her hands and called Clever off. “Be careful with my things, I just got them. Oh, and you said some quite scary things, you know that?”

‘. . . Keke, all right, all right. Just giving ’im a scare, ’s all. Sorry, lil’ Rye! Keke!’ Clever let go. His tone was far from apologetic.

Rye scrambled away from him on hands and knees, heaving. “T-This bird is insane!”

‘That’s not very nice, eh, lil’ Rye!’ Clever flew around the boy, mocking him.

“S-Stop! Stay away! Stay away from me!”

This isn’t going anywhere, Stella thought. “This place could use some cleaning, but it’s much better than that cage. You won’t lack for food or rest, and I’ll pay you for your work. What more could you want?” If paying them motivates them to work for me, that’s what I’ll do.

“. . . You’ll pay?” Rye said.

“If you serve me well and save the money, then you have my word that I’ll let you go free in ten years or so. If I freed you now, without money you’d just end up in another cage. See how thoughtful I am?”

Rye should know she was telling the truth. Stella wanted to give him the choice to stay or leave. She knew what it was like to be imprisoned for eternity. They may be my slaves, but they deserve that much.

“Are you . . . really . . . going to pay me? And free me?”

“I’m telling the truth, even if you’re not. You were quite convincing as a boy, I must say. Be glad that you weren’t found out.”

“How—!”

“You won’t trick me so easily.” Stella giggled. “But you certainly managed to grab my attention.”

“S-Shut up!”

“I can’t wait to learn more about your past,” she teased. Rye blushed.

She looked like a little beggar boy in those rags, but Stella had seen her for what she was and gotten curious—enough to buy her then and there. That was all there was to it.

Her underdeveloped boyish body and filthy rags had helped hide her secret, but there were many ways it could have gone wrong. Slavers kept their best merchandise clean and presentable while shoving the rest in cages and feeding them like animals, but even that life didn’t last forever—the unsold slaves were eventually sent to worse places, or simply put down.

“Uhm, Stella, ma’am,” Beck said. “You think you could free me too? I mean, if I serve you really good . . . ?” He carefully raised his hand.

Not him. Stella laughed as she declared, “Of course not. You’re not like them, Beck. Have you forgotten what you’ve done to me?”

“I—I . . .”

He had threatened and almost sold her, and had only failed because she recovered her memories in time. Her story had almost been over before it started. He didn’t deserve any privileges; but he might deserve a beating or two, depending on his attitude.

“But if you insist, I can let you go. Would you like that?”

“What do you . . .”

“Would you like that?” She held out her Magic Crystal.

The color drained from Beck’s face. “N-No, of course not! I wouldn’t dream of asking!” he said, shaking his head.

Stella wasn’t lying. She would let him go, yes—from both her service and his mortal bonds. It was her right as his owner, and he had it coming after what he’d done to her.

He looks like he’s almost enjoying it, though. Maybe he’s one of those people I’ve heard about.

She’d been treating him like garbage, but at times it seemed like he was deriving pleasure from it. He must be, otherwise he should have tried to escape by now. Maybe the tough thug act was just a manifestation of his repressed desires. It would be hard to deal with him if every punishment turned into a reward.

“You’ve been so quiet, Marie. What do you think?”

“I . . . But, a child, buying slaves . . . ? Sorry, Miss Stella, I don’t mean to be rude, but this place doesn’t look like it’s seen business in a while. Can you really afford to keep us around?”

Stella followed her eyes. Empty shelves were in evidence around the store, and those that weren’t empty were dusty. Rather than a “general store,” this was a general mess. Instead of trying to reestablish the business through sales, Stella’s father had opted to put all his faith in the high-risk investment proposed by his friend. In the end, he lost everything but this store. You could say he died chasing his dreams, but the truth was not so romantic. He bit more than he could chew, and choked to death.

Stella’s mother had been the real victim; she had done her husband’s bidding to the bitter end. A calm person and, like Stella, weak of constitution, she’d been through many ordeals, the last of which being tying the rope that would take her daughter’s life. Thankfully, in her final moments she had lacked the strength to tie a proper knot, and Stella lived to see another day.

She giggled at Marie. “Why, that’s a good point. In fact, I was drowning in debt until just this morning.”

Marie just looked back at her, even more puzzled than before.

“Were you thinking the same thing?” Stella asked Rye.

“I mean, this makes no sense,” she replied. “I could swear you were some dumb lordling in disguise. If you’re not, where did you get all that money?”

“I assure you my life has been far from lordly. So far, in fact, that we were a hundred gold coins in debt. A breathtaking number, isn’t it?”

“A hundred gold coins?! You want me to believe a little girl with that kind of debt just went and got herself two slaves? And this man—he’s with the Stock Company, I’ve seen him before. Why’s he working for you? Those people don’t obey just anyone. They make a sport of harassing the weak and defenseless!”

‘Saw right through ’im, eh, lil’ Rye!’

“Sure, say what you want . . .” Beck said, giving up. Clever perched on his head. He’s not pooping, Stella thought. How kind of him.

“I’ll answer your questions,” she said. “The debt is gone. I negotiated my way out of it. And Beck indeed used to be a Stock Company man, but that life ended this morning, when he came to collect my debt. Now he’s mine, just like you two.”

“N-Not so fast! I’m not no one’s yet!”

“You are, whether you acknowledge it or not. I paid from my own pocket to get you out of that place. If you’re so bent on defying me, why not go back? Just pray you find a new buyer soon—you know what happens if you don’t. That would be quite unfortunate.”

Stella didn’t think this place was so bad, but Rye might see it differently. She could very well choose to die fighting, remaining true to herself until the end, with no regard for the consequences. Maybe there was something noble about that—but to Stella, who had so many things left to do, it made little sense.

Rye cursed.

“Well, I think you got pretty lucky,” Stella said. “Sorry, just a second.”

Her throat was dry after so much talking. She stopped to drink some water and realized she was a little feverish. I’m completely burned out. I need sustenance. She took a loaf of dark bread from her paper bag and plunged her teeth into it. It was quite hard; her jaw quickly tired from chewing.

“I can start preparing dinner now, if you wish. I just ask for a few minutes to see the kitchen first,” said Marie.

Stella stopped her with a raised hand. I wouldn’t be able to keep it down. “Thank you, but I have my bread. Save it for tomorrow.”

“Yes . . . As you wish.”

“Tomorrow I’ll have a light breakfast and a cup of coffee,” she added. “You’ll need money. I’ll give it to you later.”

“You sure you can trust them, ma’am? I’d be worried they’d run off with the money!” said Beck.

Don’t project, you fool. He might attempt something of the sort, but it seemed unlikely. Stella had thoroughly threatened him, and Clever never let him out of his sight. Even if by some miracle Beck managed to escape, he had nowhere to go. If he tried the Stock Company, Leroy would just send him back here. That was part of their agreement.

“I don’t mind. Your company gave me a lot of money. Just give them what they need and put the rest in the safe. Also, I want all our earnings and expenses accounted for in the ledger. I’ll check it every once in a while.”

“Y-Yes, ma’am.”

“No splurging, Beck. I know you’ve got little self-control, but make an effort.”

“I—I won’t! I swear!”

“Why so nervous? Were you thinking you could embezzle a little at a time and I wouldn’t notice? Because I’m just a naive little girl?”

“M-Ma’am, I would never!” he squealed.

So he was considering it. Well, Beck will be Beck, I suppose.

His job was to carry the elixir to Leroy and bring the money back to her. All she had to do was keep a lazy eye on him and punish him if he tried to run with the money. He would not get very far with the Stock Company going after him. He’d hardly get past Clever in the first place.

“I’m telling you, this doesn’t make any sense,” said Rye. “Why is a Stock Company thug taking orders from you?!”

She glared at Beck, who shuffled uncomfortably but didn’t answer. With no pride left as a thug, he was now little more than a puppy.

“Because that was my agreement with Leroy and his company,” Stella answered. “I’ve already said that.”

“An agreement? With them? How?”

“I don’t know why I should tell you. That would be such a bother, and you’ll probably learn soon enough anyway.”

Stella munched at her bread. Beneath the hard crust, the interior was dry and hard to swallow. It was cheap for a reason.

“C’mon, please,” Rye insisted. “Maybe I can help! And the more I work, the faster I’ll be able to go free.”

Stella laughed. “That’s the spirit. But, unfortunately, this is something only I can do. Your job is to take care of the store and entertain me when I’m bored. I’ll be resting a lot, and then I won’t have much to do but talk. I want to get to know all of you better. I’m bound to learn from your thoughts and experiences.”

She washed down the bread with some tepid water and fought back a bout of nausea. Great, she thought, my stomach is also weak. It was a miracle she had managed to live this long. Maybe that’s why my parents wanted to kill me. It was better than leaving me to die on my own.

“. . . Miss?” said Marie.

“What is it? Oh—you may eat too, of course. I should have mentioned it earlier. Feel free to take whatever you want from the store, for all the good that will do you.”

Marie thanked her, and then said, “Miss Stella, if I might ask . . . where are your parents? I’d like to introduce myself.”

“They’re gone.”

“Gone? Are they out on business? Or did they move to a better place?”

“Move to a better place? That’s a poetic way to put it.”

“Let me introduce myself too,” said Rye, grinning. “As they say, manners go a long way.” She stood up and straightened her clothes, which didn’t make them any less filthy.

“I can’t say you’re wrong,” Stella said, “but I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why? Are they sleeping?”

“They died this morning. Hanged themselves, both.”

For a few moments, Marie and Rye didn’t seem to understand. “What?” They gaped at Stella, frozen in place.

“It was in the back bedroom. They were floating over their own filth with their tongues lolling out of their mouths. It was comical, you should have seen it. Beck cleaned up the place, but the smell lingered and the stains proved hard to remove, so I decided to seal it off.”

Marie tried to say something, but Stella paid her no mind.

“They tried to kill me too. I barely escaped with my life.” Stella sighed. “What a day . . . No wonder I’m completely burned out.”

She had told Beck to seal off the room with boards and nails, dozens of them, to shut it away forever. When she saw the room for the last time, it had been clean except for the bloodstains, but the smell had clung to it, ever so slightly, almost imperceptibly. She could almost still see the ropes hanging from the rafters, her mother grabbing her by the shoulders, yet her mother’s face was clouded, as if by mist. Was she laughing, or crying? Stella couldn’t remember.

It was just a room; there was nothing dangerous about it. Yet still, the air inside made Stella feel miserable, turned her feet to lead, made her head hurt. She couldn’t stand it. That’s why I sealed it off. It was a perfectly logical decision. It limited her own living space, but she had money. She could install new rooms whenever she wanted. I’ll be fine.

Marie and Rye had been staring at her for a while when, suddenly—

“. . . I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked!”

“. . . Y-Yeah. I’m also sorry. I don’t know what happened, but I . . . I should have watched my tongue.”

—they apologized.

What surprised her the most was Rye. In the few hours Stella had known her, it had been clear that she was a strong-willed girl, like insubordination on legs—not the type to put her pride aside and apologize like this. Humans are so intriguing.

‘Master,’ said Clever.

“Yes?”

‘ ’Ere, you might want this, eh?’ he said, giving her a handkerchief.

It was made of many-colored threads, and the colors bled into each other to produce a whole of indescribable hue. It was then that Stella understood. “Ahh. I see now.”

She took it and wiped her eyes. Then again, and again. So that was why the bread had been tasting funny. Her senses of taste and smell were impaired—because she was crying. But why? I’m in perfect control of my feelings. Tears are supposed to form when you’re emotional.

Yet she cried, and kept crying. I don’t understand, she thought, but maybe this is what being human is like.

“Humans are so strange,” she finally said. “I’m not sad, yet I’m crying. Why . . . Why can’t I stop crying?”

‘Because yer ’uman, eh?’

“Oh. In that case . . . I’m glad,” she said with a teary smile.

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