Ninka Evertrue's Arc

Chapter 18 of 29

By mid-morning Ninka heard shouting from the school. She ran up the steps and pushed the door. Ezra stood at the front with chalk dust on his sleeve. Two boys wrestled between the desks. A girl sat on the floor crying because no one had shown her where the washroom was. The fire-boy stared at the hearth and would not blink. Ezra caught Ninka's eye and shook his head. "I can teach them to hold the gift," he said. "I can't teach them to hold a spoon." Ninka went outside and sat on the top step. She had eleven children who had never lived together. No chores. No bedtimes. No one to show them how to fold a blanket or wash a bowl. Ezra could stop the fire-boy from burning the meadow. He could not run a house. If she did not fix this by nightfall, the commune would break apart before the week ended. A butterfly the size of a hand landed on the railing. It opened and folded its wings twice. Then a woman stood where the butterfly had been. She was tall, with green locks and vines woven through them, and her clothes were made of leaves. Her wings stayed out behind her, edges tipped gray. "I felt this place from three valleys off," she said. "I brew potions. I grow herbs. I can teach." She looked at the crying girl through the window. "Your children don't know how to live together." "No," Ninka said. "They don't." "I can fix that. Not alone." Before Ninka could ask what she meant, a short woman came up the path dragging a satchel that thumped against her boot. Rainbow braids. Crystal glasses. She stopped at the bottom step and looked up, out of breath. "I read about a school for gifted children," she said. "I walked here. If you're not it, tell me now and I'll keep walking." "I'm it," Ninka said. "Good. I do stories. I mean, they come out of the book when I read." She patted the satchel. "Kids learn what they see. I can show them a kitchen. I can show them a morning." Ninka stood up. Two women. One who knew plants and quiet work. One who could pull a lesson out of a page and set it walking. She brought them inside. Sylvara took the crying girl by the hand and led her to the washroom. Prismella opened a thin blue book on a desk and read the first page aloud. A wooden table appeared in the aisle, set with bowls and a stack of clean cloths. The two wrestling boys stopped to stare. Prismella pointed at the cloths. "Fold one," she said. The oldest boy picked one up. Ezra stepped back to the chalkboard and let them work. By dusk the children had washed their own bowls. The fire-boy slept without smoke. Ninka stood on the balcony and watched the cabins go dark in order. She had a school now. She also had two adults she had known for one day, and a father still trapped on a road that would not hold him forever.