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1 - A Growing Shadow
My mother loved children. She cried if one suffered hurt and fell into despair at the news of an innocent’s death. It didn't matter if they were strangers and news of their fate arrived as gossip, or if they stood as family or friends. Sometimes the grief came as a long and unwinding spiral of cold and numb mourning, others carried the explosive rawness of heart-wrenching cries and wails. There were always tears. I hated it! Every year that mourning built through Ossard’s icy winter and thawing spring, only to mature into a deepening madness that rose with summer’s heat. Summer… Those balmy days brought the fever; Maro Fever. It spread from the docks and through the slums to take the weakest into its burning embrace. It loved the young, for winter had already found the old to claim. During the summer, instead of my mother hearing of a child killed in some misfortune several times a season she’d hear of fever deaths every other day. We tried to keep such news from her, it trapping her at home, yet the sounds of passing funeral processions marked by the slow beat of mourning drums could not be kept at bay. Poor Inger, so sensitive and emotional, so busy feeling other peoples’ pain – it almost drove her mad. Then one summer the real problems began…
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Child-theft is a coward's crime; that's what my mother said. At first I didn't even understand it. I mean, how could you? Why would someone want to steal someone else's child? But then it happened, marking the beginning of Ossard's fall from grace. A little boy was the first to be taken. An infant girl went missing half a season later, stolen straight from her crib. More followed, and they were all Flets. I didn't know any of the victims, but I couldn’t miss their families' grief. The outrages went on, haunting the alleys of Newbank – the squalid Flet quarter of the city. The Heletian authorities ignored it as they did all the problems that plagued our district. In the end, any attempt at handling it fell to our guild, the Flet Guild, who unofficially governed everything on our side of the river. Still, as skilful as they were at dealing with our other problems, this was one that they couldn’t overcome. So the kidnappings continued, as did the misery they delivered.
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Running our household kept Mother busy, it being one of the most prosperous in Newbank, and even of note in the larger and wealthier Heletian side of Ossard. She tried to keep an eye on me, as did Father, but that along with the family business, an inherited importing concern, just took too much of their time. One of our two maids could have watched over me, but they couldn't hope to defend me. If I was to be safe, it needed to be at the hands of someone suited to the task. Father found someone, a man of battle that came recommended as honest and able. Still, on the day he started, none of us were sure. Like any young adolescent I came with some attitude. At Sef's introduction, I displayed as much rebelliousness as I could muster. “A bodyguard?” I asked. “Just for now,” said my father. Mother nodded, her movements anxious. I said, “It's because of the kidnappings, isn't it?” Father nodded. Mother said, “No, not at all, and it's just for a short while.” I turned to face him – my bodyguard.
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