Page 14 of The Verdant Cage
“It was quite a shock to move here,” she continues, “after I wed your grandfather. All the blood and mucus I had to deal with. For the first weeks, I was throwing up more than our patients.” She chuckles softly. “There were so many new rules to learn, so many new procedures. I was terrified. There’s no shame in that.” She turns over her wrist, showing her tattoo to me. “Iearnedthis.”
I’ve seen her Rod of Asclepius, the Apothecary House symbol, so many times that I consider it a part of her. I trace the faded blue shape with my finger. It’s a single snake wrapped around a staff. We’re told it’s the symbol of an ancient medicine god hailing from a far-off land.Healing. Wisdom. Sacrifice. That’s what it means to me, and I’d always hoped to have one inked on my own wrist someday. Given the size of Nikola’s household relative to my own, I was supposed to.
Gran begins stroking my hair again. Her touch feels so good, so safe. “Did you know Reatha of the Chemist House?” she asks, seemingly at random.
“Of course,” I reply.
What happened to them was unprecedented.
The Chemist husband, Otto, a man with a great booming laugh, was honored with a Harvest last winter, leaving behind his wife, Reatha, and their kids, Albert and Marie. Albert was only three years younger than me. I knew him as quiet, maybe a little poky. He’d gotten his work done and often Marina’s, too. He had a monumental crush on the Record Keeper daughter.
Then came his horrific accident.
He’d been scurrying up a tree, a wooden slingshot tucked into the back of his pants. He meant to shoot down apples for Marina like he often did, climbing high to get her the reddest, sweetest fruits in the Valley. But this time his foot slipped and he fell, cracking his spine.
Jonas and I were first on the scene. We were able to save his life, but not his mobility.
The Engineer House constructed Albert a wheelchair, and we all cut back on our requests of the Chemists. But Reatha must never have recovered because a month ago, she snuck into the Record Keeper cottage and stole our blessed tablet, loaded herself and the children into the basket, and self-Harvested. It’s why the tablet is now kept by a Guardian House rather than the Record Keeper.
Reatha committed the worst crime we know. She stole from the Valley, deprived us of our vital Chemists. My own House relied on them to grow penicillin. Ever since, we’ve been without that life-changing medicine. I can never forgive her for that.
“Why do you bring up Reatha?” I bite out.
“She was friends with your mother,” Gran says, cocking an eyebrow at my tone, a sliver of her old brightness returning to her voice.
Friends. Gran told me once that the word used to mean more to the adults of the Valley. Men and women across Houses spending time together in the evenings, taking walks, sharing stories. She said the villagers used to hold a dinner swap, where two Houses were randomly paired, with one cooking for everyone the first night and the other the next, so everyone got to know their neighbors. The village used to act like a family, she said.
I have only faint memories of that time.
“Your mother and I did you a disservice by holding on so tight, Rosie,” Gran continues, shocking me with her admission. “We thought we were protecting you, and you’re such a natural healer, so gifted, that it was easy to keep you busy. But we all need people. Life’s too heavy to bear alone.”
I’m too embarrassed to tell her that I have no friends because everyone thinks I’m a rule-worshipping snitch, not because she loved me too much. Most Noah’s Valley teens bend a rule here or there, just as Jonas did, tasting curse words and pushing curfews. Not me. My rigidity has always stood out like a goat in chapel. If I’m being honest, a part of me was excited at the Council’s recent advisory against mingling. It meant Jonas was home more.
But Gran has been speaking out against the system for too long. I’m about to warn her that she needs to be careful when the front door slams open.
8
I go weak with relief at the sight of Aunt Florence and Uncle Richard.
Florence looks so much like my mother, which means Uncle Richard was probably the one born to another House, just like Gran. I don’t know which—I’ve never thought of him as anything but an Apothecary before. My hand finds my pocket and the wooden toy inside as I contemplate this new development in the family dynamic, wishing my brother was here to share it with.
“Rosie!” Uncle Richard holds his arms wide. He’s a lantern-jawed man with a blob of a nose and a ready smile. He’s also a ginger, and he always leaves a dusting of carrot-colored hair across his left cheek no matter how carefully he shaves.
I stand and run into his arms, starving for the love and affection of my family.
He squeezes me tight and kisses the top of my head. “Within the Wall,” he says, offering the standard greeting in a choked voice.
Aunt Florence weaves her arms around us both. She smells spicy, like marigold salve. “It was an honor, of course,” she murmurs, “for Jonas to be chosen.”
I pull back. These are the words we’re supposed to say, but do they need to be spoken here, inside the cottage? Gran’s honesty has loosened my tongue. “He shouldnothave been.” I’m surprised by the heat in my chest.
“Rose.” Uncle Richard glances toward the door. “Don’t shake branches.”
“The law says that Apothecaries are spared from Harvest in times of need, and with the Vex still unresolved, this qualifies.” Now that I’ve started, I can’t stop. “And who ever thought of using the Harvest as a punishment? We should have been allowed to decide the consequences together!”
Aunt Florence appears alarmed. She’s the only member of our House who wears glasses. When she pushes them up her nose, their thick lenses magnify her eyes into two pools. “The law changed, Rosie.” She blinks myopically. “It changed to protect us.”
Uncle Richard reaches behind her to ensure the door is fully closed. “We must trust in the system,” he says loudly. Then he lowers his voice, tossing a worried glance at Gran. “Has your grandmother been filling your head with stories? She hasn’t been feeling well, you know. She isn’t herself.”
