A Proper Education: Chapter Twenty-One

That evening as Sally was rushing between guests, Credence took it upon herself to grab a pitcher from the counter and refill drinks.

Sally shot her an annoyed glance but was quickly reminded that she asked for help earlier in the day, so she shooed Credence away to the task with a nod of her head. Ever since Mistress Cinder left the tavern, Sally kept a careful eye on her charge, and her mood seemed a little less at ease. Now that she knew Credence was destined to become an angel, her steps were heavier, and every so often she'd glance at Credence and mumble something like, "Only three days left? How does time know to fly so quickly?" or, "Getting closer to when you might forget this place..."

Credence didn't want Sally to think ill of her, but she wasn't sure how to soothe the woman's obvious fear.

As Credence went from table to table, she noticed more than a few stares in her direction from surprised and interested tavern guests. For the most part they only watched her, but a handful tried to grab her, and two managed to pinch her bottom as she moved through the room. Her white school tunic, which Credence had been told would keep her safe in the towns, did nothing to detract the bolder guests.

It was the same as her skin symbol, a lie to make her feel safe.

If only these people could purchase manners at the Auction, Credence thought as another hand reached for her. She felt a heavy embarrassment each time someone touched her, and she wondered if this was something Sally had meant for her to avoid, and the reason she'd been firm on keeping Credence tucked into a corner during the night.

She was taking care of me, Credence thought with deep affection, like a sister. She wanted me to be safe.

But Credence had demanded to be given a task, and she would see it through, so she endured the stares and occasional wandering hand.

With three more days until she had to return to the school, she feared time had run out to make an honest attempt at escape. She wasn't sure which was more awful, a black stripe and the Chopper's attention, or returning to the Headmaster.

While moving through the sea of guests, she tried to formulate a plan. Sally was a better work detail host than Credence could have ever dreamed for—maybe she would allow Credence to take a private walk around the towns. Credence could ask to leave under the pretense of needing some fresh air, and Sally would no doubt oblige her.

The pitcher was growing light, with one cup's worth of water inside. Credence looked around for any guests who might need attending and realized that her tour around the tavern had neglected a spot tucked into a shadowed corner.

A small table and one lone chair sat there, usually empty or occupied by a snoring customer, but tonight it held a different sort of guest.

A figure, covered head to toe in a cloak, sat patiently with one hand wrapped around a mug. A short pipe stuck out from the lowered brim of the cloak's hood, but it was never taken from the lips of the one who used it, not to tap away ash or relight the leaf.

If not for the twitching of the pipe and the cloud of smoke that every so often escaped from under the hood, Credence might have assumed she was looking at a statue.

Their face might be scarred, Credence thought of the raised hood, or maybe they don't wish to be noticed.

She understood that feeling well.

She thought of leaving the guest in the corner alone, but the hand gripping the mug loosened and the guest pushed their cup towards the edge of the table, signaling a desire for more drink.

Credence swallowed the lump that formed in her throat.

Stop being so easily scared, she scolded herself, just fill the cup and mind your business.

She feared the figure might try to grab her, or want her to stay and talk, but to her relief nothing happened as she tipped the last of the pitcher's contents into the mug.

The guest remained still until the mug was full, then flicked their hand to dismiss Credence. Needing no other sign, Credence rushed back to the tavern's long counter, happy to be away from the quiet stranger. A hand grabbed her wrist, making her jump in surprise, but it was only Sally, who pulled her close.

"Got a' introduction to the's guests, yes?" she whispered into Credence's ear. "Some's more than others I'll bet." Credence nodded and Sally's grip tightened. "Don't like 'em handling me in ways, so's I set 'em straight long ago, but you—I think you look like—fresh meat."

Credence was pulled into the kitchen. Sally's face was flushed red, and sweat clung to her brow like rain to glass.

"Sorry's for any trouble," Sally said with guilt in her voice, "didn't want you to—"

"It's all right," Credence assured her. "I can handle myself."

Sally grinned and took the secret bottle from her apron pocket. She tore the cork away with her teeth and brought the bottle to her lips.

"Girls comes from woods—I'll believe her on that!"

Her speech was different, and it was only now that they were away from the noise that Credence noticed Sally was slurring her words, sounding like the guests in the next room. It was a nightly occurrence for Sally to become unsteady on her feet, which Credence connected to the frequent use of her secret bottle, but she'd never lost her capacity for coherent speech before.

"What's in that?" Credence asked innocently.

Sally shot her a look of confusion before understanding Credence meant the bottle.

"This? S'what keeps me in blithely spirits, little tree. Me own comfort, precious as a babe."

She touched Credence's hair and tucked a few stray strands behind the girl's ear.

"Cinder," Sally muttered. "Her visit has me frowning. S'all it is."

"She's gone now."

"Aye, but she'll get you in the end. Eh? She's was right, I's was too ugly for it—to be angel. But I'm glad I was. Ev'ry time I walk out and see them children on the balconies...it's just a knife, Creed. Is just a knife—right here."

Sally punched her fist against her chest and hiccupped. Credence wondered if Sally knew someone who became an angel.

Sally's face fell into somber reflection and she added in a whisper, "Truth is...I'd be's miserable without this." She raised the hand that gripped her secret bottle. "I'd's have to face what's around me...and simply puts...I donno if I cans..."

And like that, her sadness was gone.

Sally tossed the bottle behind her shoulder, unconcerned when it crashed to the floor in a thousand shards. She threw her arm around Credence's shoulder, pulling the girl into a tight embrace. Credence could smell the strong scent of mead on her breath, and she had to shift her weight to help Sally maintain her balance. It did little good in the end, and Sally's teetering took them both to the floor, where they laughed about their unfortunate tumbling.

All too quickly, however, Sally's joy fell.

"Don't's want you out there's any more tonight," she mumbled. "They's—seen you an' they'll want to know you's..." Her eyes fell half-closed and she yawned. "Jus' wan' keep you safe, s'all."

"I know you do," Credence said, holding the woman to keep her from falling forward.

"So's you'll stay here?" Sally asked, her voice hopeful. "Stay's back 'ere, and outta sight of them's?"

Credence didn't understand why Sally was so concerned, but she didn't want to upset her friend, so she nodded.

"I suppose I could take to bed early tonight."

"Aye. Tha's a grand ideee!"

With help from Credence, Sally stood from the floor and smoothed her skirts, and with dramatic, though clumsy, flair, Sally twirled herself through the kitchen door and back into the tavern's main room. Credence heard her voice calling out to the guests, and whatever she said made them cheer. It had been an unusual conversation, but Credence thought little of it as she grabbed a broom and swept the shattered bottle from the floor.

She left the kitchen, moving swiftly and silently to her bedroom in the forgotten hall. With a flick of her wrist, the lumps of wax spread throughout were lit, and Credence snuggled into bed, listening to the muffled roar in the next room.

Her thoughts turned to the woods and how she might return to them. What would she do there, now that she had nowhere—and no one—to return to?

It struck her that she hadn't given much thought to her family, or even the Collector, in several days, and it was a perplexing thing to have forgotten them.

Had she also forgotten how to survive beneath the trees?

Credence rested her head against her pillow and watched the shadows dance across the roof.

I need to get back to the woods, she thought, before I lose myself completely.