Chapter 2: Gone Downstairs

The next few days passed peacefully, with new snowfall and a fully warmed house. The Dents guest grew in fame, as neighbors and other trappers noticed her auburn hair through the window. They speculated how a thin girl managed to survive the mountains and how she'd come to be there. They wondered if she was a cadet spooked by the intense training and that they'd find her uniform when some of the ice melted. Others argued that she was a noble daughter escaping an arranged marriage.

Nobody supposed she was just a wandering, lost farmgirl, yet that was Karmen's theory. The young boy's clothes fit her nicely, and she began chopping wood to pay her way, getting the couple a head start and some extra cash. She was young, spry, stronger than Karmen, able to match his two hours in twenty minutes. He left it to her and made two extra wire traps during her recovery week.

"You're more likely to find family in the lowlands," Karmen told her one afternoon. "Once you've got your strength up, we'll send you with a trader. They'll take you to one of the community farms that help our orphans and widows. At least, the orphans and widows who already lived on the surface."

"There's an underground?" Edie asked. She easily lifted the ax and split a log.

"Yeah, underneath the cities. It's a hive of scum and villainy, with brothels and bars on every corner. "Kelli's husband went down there to investigate some stolen ODM gear before he passed. He said there were children there thinner than grass, all with their ribs sticking out. They'd never seen the sun, and he said they'd die before they got the chance."

"Why are they under there?" She replaced the log and swung again, sending a cracking sound through the trees. There was a soft rhythm in the forest, and she'd caught it. "There seems to be plenty of space in the walls."

"Oh, it's a mixture of reasons. Some don't have the agricultural experience needed for the farms, and others don't know how to get out economically. Most have debts, and some don't have family to live with to get settled. Most might not even know you can live in places like the fields and forests. They can't live off the land."

"It's awful, never seeing the sky." Crack.

"Indeed." Karmen wound a leaf of leek round a wire and connected it to the door. "Most animals gnaw on the food, getting the wire stuck in their teeth. But any kind of pressure here—" He jiggled the floor "—slams this shut. We get weasels, which don't have much meat, snowy hares, rabbits. Anything's good to eat up here, but you need archery skills to get deer. God forbid you come across a bear."

"They're the most dangerous?"

"Claws, height, weight, speed. They'll outdo you in any battle. Same policy as titans, just get away. If you have a hunting partner, then one of you's getting eaten. Just hope you're the one with the family to go home to."

"Does Lana count?"

Karmen waved his hand. "Eh, I'm never stupid enough to be in the mountains when bears are around. The two of us hunker down more often than not. It's all the younger fathers who think they're invisible enough for God to leave alone."

"You'd think God would leave you and Lana alone," Edie added, "

"Not us. We haven't done any evil, that's true, but we haven't done good." Karmen stood, setting the trap on the porch. "Do you believe in a god, Edie?"

"I do," she said. Crack. "Quite sure. But I don't know much about God."

"More amnesia?"

She shook her head, pausing her work. "I don't think I ever had time to learn."

"Well, if you don't find a family in the lowlands, you're more than welcome to come back here. Lana and I are past our prime, and I'd love to pass the cabin to someone who will take care of it."

"You haven't got children," Edie realized. "I think I knew that, but it didn't sink in."

"Inheritance is a tricky thing without much family. My brother passed before he had children, and Lana's family all live further north. They like their view too much to live in a corner of trees."

"Why didn't you have children? You both are happy together."

Karmen shrugged. "Never got around to it."

The next day, closer to the afternoon, Lana employed Edie in the kitchen while Karmen checked their trap line. Both stood in front of the window overlooking the side yard, covered in muddy footprints from the morning chores. A fire crackled behind them, and another in the oven.

"Now, this is where the difference is," Lana explained. She pinched dry basil and sprinkled it on the spread dough, sticky except for the floured underside. "You can't do this step after kneading, or it'll be too touch to absorb the flavor. Now, when we work the dough in, the spices will take the moisture and spread through the parts that don't have a leaf. Here, try."

Edie copied her. "Then kneading, let it sit, break into rolls, and bake."

"Right. You're learning quickly. For someone who didn't know anything about bread and baking, too."

This was one of the skills that fueled the noblewoman theory, which Kelli sponsored unashamedly. She went through lists of noble families that still used arranged marriages to combine and control lands, and passion was a fickle thing. Between being physically fit and having no household skills, Kelli was convinced they'd be rewarded for turning her in. But Edie didn't have a problem looking for her family in the lowlands, so most people ignored that theory.

"My mother taught me this recipe," Lana said, absentmindedly. "She taught me to bake since I was six, of course, as well as bake. My father never made me go on the traps, and I wasn't eager to see things die. He hardly saw bears and deer near the peak, but some birds perch away from bigger predators. He liked to shoot them down, and I couldn't bear to see him hurt such beautiful creatures. He used to stuff them with cornhusks when we visited my cousin's farm, then mount them on the fireplace wall. We stared at them every night when he read scriptures."

"Scriptures?"

"Worshippers of the walls." She waved her hand. "I didn't want to be like him. So my mother taught me what she knew, about keeping a house, socializing, sustaining a family. But I'm not sure she loved me, although there's nothing more loving than food. She always wanted to move to the lowlands and loved visiting my cousin more than anything, talking with her family, and the warm air. She died quite young, I think from the extreme cold."

"You didn't marry a lowlander," Edie pointed out. Her fingers gently kneaded the dough, and the spices danced like a pile of dry leaves catching the wind. "You married a mountain man."

"Yes, my handsome mountain man." A smile spread on Lana's face. "We met at the coronation anniversary, to mark when King Fritz was crowned. It's more of a festival here, where in the lowlands it's more civil. There's dancing, drinking, and socializing from all over the mountain. Well, that boy asked for a dance within minutes, and we danced the whole night long. Song after song, until the band gave up and the young folk there kept twirling. We kissed early on in the night, and, well, I'll just say my chaperones didn't do a very good job."

"Lana!" Edie stuttered a moment. "But—Karmen said—"

"He would say. And no need to be so shocked. We were married within a month. My parents didn't mind—like I said, I'm not sure they cared, and he had a home all to his name." She snuck a sly grin. "We were young, and quite good looking."

"You still are."

"Thank you. Out of all our old friends, Karmen and I are the best looking. I suppose life weathers you differently without a litter of little people to look after."

Edie pursed her lips. "I know it's impertinent to ask, but—"

"No, it's natural. How many childless couples do you find in the walls? There's not much else to do, but farm and raise rowdy children. I am curious, though—what has Karmen told you?"

"Nothing much. Just that it never came up." She placed the dough in a bowl and set a towel atop. "Are you barren?"

"Ha! There's not a woman in the walls who can't have children. It's no wonder man discovered prevention methods. How else will you keep jealousy at bay?" Lana's laughter stilled, and her eyes fell to her work. "No, it's…it's a bit more complicated than that. We used protection that first night, of course, and during our honeymoon. But…Karmen never really stopped. We never tried."

"Oh."

"Early on, I think I joked that I didn't want kids at all, and went on a big rant about how they were a nuisance and just got themselves killed. And it's dangerous to raise a family in the mountains, anybody knows that. It's why most folks up here were born here. The lowlanders like their safety from the elements, and we want our solitude. But I didn't mean most of what I said. I was twenty, and stupid. I just wanted my slightly older husband to think I was mature, logical, and passionate. I wanted him to like me and to think this would work. Then we got old, all of a sudden, it seems."

"Maybe it was a relief to him," Edie offered. She wiped her hands with a washcloth. "Maybe he didn't want kids, either, and was glad to find someone who didn't."

"I don't think so. All men want a family, a namesake. Someone to remember them when they're gone. A wife, a husband, they can't ever remember you. They mourn you, they grieve you, they try to preserve a legacy, but there's nothing like a legacy in flesh and bone. There's a reason the nobility strive so much for heirs. There's something special about children." Lana paused. "What did Karmen say about us?"

"He said he saw you, fell in love, and married you. That's all."

"Pretty unorthodox methods," Lana muttered slyly, and Edie shrugged. "But if that's what suits him. He's a good man, and stuck by all my strange habits all these years. I don't mind growing old, and there's not a person alive without regrets."

"That's true."

"You've got a beautiful youth about you," Lana told her. "Perhaps you'll find a family and a forgotten love in the lowlands. Just keep the amnesia up if he's not as pretty as you."

"I don't think so," Edie said. "I don't think I'm the type to fall in love."

"Oh, all people fall in love, in one way or another. With friends, animals, places, lovers. It's incredible. Maybe what makes us really human. You'll find someone to love, or something, and you'll live and die for them. It's our way."

"I hope so. Just not in the marriage kind of way."

"You know yourself. Even without memories, you know yourself." Lana added her dough to Edie's bowl and nodded. "One of the joys of having children is passing on knowledge, and here I am, doing that, without the curse of childbirth and rearing. Life goes on."

"Thank you."

Around the dinner table that evening, the man of the house brought it to their attention that the traders would leave for the lowlands in the afternoon. He'd set Edie with a trustworthy one, make some last-minute purchases, and head for home by early evening. Lana kept a brave face, and the two women stayed awake late into the night, sipping bitter tea and feeling. Edie dug into her memory and remembered a folding method, making Lana a lovely paper square to remember her by. It was an old receipt, likely to be thrown away, but Lana set it on the mantle and said she'd keep it until Edie returned and made her one from fancy lowland paper. They were just two triangles overlapping, with two levels in the middle. It looked like the mountain range, Lana commented, and sleepily stared at the fire. Edie helped her into bed, where the couple snuggled together, leaving Edie awake, cold, and alone.

Edie sat by the fire for a while longer, stoking it and adding another log. She took the paper off the mantle, unfolded it, and folded it again. There was something therapeutic about the motion, something so historic, like a smooth lightning running through a person's veins. She set it back on the mantle, washed her teacup, and headed into the guest bedroom. She sat awake, nearly smothered by two fur blankets and a barrage of thoughts.

"Not a woman on the island who can't have children," she murmured to herself, then drifted into the unconscious.

The morning passed as a daze (waking, breakfast, walking, town), and even Karmen seemed saddened by her departure. Both snapped to attention when a buoyant trader slapped both on the backs with the strength of ten mules.

"Terrible weather! Absolutely terrible! I'd rather deliver packages to the titans than deal with your year-long snow. Absolutely would! They'd make better company, not asking stupid questions or telling me to bug off. Do you know how many of you mountaineers I've had to explain how to cook a leek to? You'd think someone would pass on the word, or teach a class! But no! At least the titans remember how much they like to eat us when they see us. It's no surprise. There's no miscommunications. People deserve to go extinct if they can't bother to make a decent leek stew."

"This is Domo," Karmen said meekly. "He'll take you to Myrian's farm. He'll make sure you're fed and taken care of, until your family finds you. If, when, until. I don't know. You'll be safe with him."

"Safe as a weasel! Those military police searched me three times, just coming up the mountain! You'd think we were headed toward another food shortage, even with all the scouts Shadis sent to their deaths. Curious that he never got eaten on those expeditions. Even more curious that these MPs can't be bothered to talk to each other, or at least make a badge for us upright traders! They wouldn't get half the meats they gouge on without my services and your hard work. Miscommunication! The worst sin, in my opinion."

"Worse than lying?"

"Much worse! It's laziness and bad wording, is all it is. It's a folly and a sin, which is worse than just a sin. It takes a smart man to get away with murder and a better one to connive the masses. But any idiot can misconstrue something, and that makes him worth hell." Domo turned, waving his hand at a woman rummaging through his cart. "Speaking of which. Hey! My cart being in the road does not mean I'm selling! That's not for you."

As the trader walked away, Karmen put his hand on Edie's shoulder. "It's just a hunch, but the lowlands will suit you better, won't they?"

"I haven't tried them. Maybe they will, maybe they won't."

"You're a pretty girl, Edie. No matter where you came from, family or not, some young man will sweep you off your feet, and it'll be the last we see or hear of you."

"That's ridiculous. Don't go making stories for a teary goodbye."

"It's true, it's all very true. Everyone thinks it won't happen to them until it does." Karmen grasped both her shoulders. "So remember us, won't you? We haven't done much of good, other than help you few to safety. So remember us fondly. Tell stories of us mountain folk to your children."

"I'm not going to have children, Karmen."

"Then tell the stories to any damn person you see on the street. Maybe we won't die unknown."

Edie wrapped her arms around the big mountain man. "Oh, I'll miss you, too, you big softie. It's only a wagon ride away."

"Then visit."

"I will."

He wiped a tear away. "You're the third woman to make me cry."

"Behind your mother and Lana, I suppose."

"Neither." He laughed at her surprise. "A story for another time. Two stories, actually. Come back for them. Oh, you're a pleasant friend, Edie. Come back soon."

"I will."

Domo shouted from his cart, so Edie walked toward there, waving over her shoulder. She greeted the horse, gave it a few sweet leaves to extend friendship, and climbed next to the driver. He still argued with the thieving woman (in his opinion) as the horse trotted on the declining path.

"Radical, people these days! They think they're entitled to whatever they can see, without just compensation. I work day and night to bring these goods between the right buyers, and they're not for anyone, you know? It's like going good wine to goats. Just because you can consume something certainly doesn't mean you should!"

Edie shook her head and stared at the road. "Do you spend more time in the lowlands or the mountains?"

"I'll tell you now, girl—what was it?"

"Edie."

"Ee-dee. Funny name. Very sophisticated." Domo snapped the reins again, and his poor animal cantered. "I'll tell you now, Edie, no one in the farms and cities will call it the lowlands. It's the mountaineers who are ethe crazy ones, stowed away in their snowy wasteland. But the cities and farms are a practical paradise. Lush green grass as far as the eye can see, blue sky for days, perfect weather—not too hot, not too cold—gentle slopes, good schools, pretty girls, anything a man could ask for. Could be more meat, some might say, could be less titans, others might say, but I say those are good prices to pay for a world of otherwise perfection."

"You didn't want to be a scout when you were younger?" Edie squeezed her knees to her chest. "Most kids I met at least talked about it. Venturing and adventuring and all."

"Daredevils, that lot. They'll grow out of it when they realize scouting means dying." He snapped the reins again, but the horse didn't accelerate. "Had a daughter once, with my deceased wife, the devil rest her soul. She went into the cadets at age fifteen, and just missed the top ten."

"Top ten?"

"'Ers when they can be in the military police. We'll surely run into some of those pompous bastards, sooner or later." He glanced at his cargo. "Hopefully sooner. But my little Lydia decided to join the Survey Corps, since there's where all the chiseled men go, ones who have seen war in their own families and aren't surprised by it. A titan grabbed her on her first mission and bit her clean in half."

Edie's eyes glazed over. "I'm so sorry."

"Ain't nothing to be sorry for! It's an occupational hazard. Still, we make those commanders' lives unbearable, and rightly so. Nothing's worth dying for on the other side of our walls. No survivors, no history, no civilization, nothing. We've got everything we need right inside, except for brains, it would seem."

"Perhaps they'll find a flower that increases intelligence," she dryly replied. "They'll make tea for all the soldiers and make better maps."

"HA! Better maps. For the surveys." Domo slapped his knee. "You're pleasant company, alright. We'll break for camp in a few hours, on a smooth ridge, and be in town by late afternoon. You'll do just fine in the cities, little Edie. Just fine."