[This chapter contains violence, death, and themes of child trafficking.]
SALAZĀ'S JOURNAL
We all had to change in some way to join Mother's home. Yet it seems Shumpa struggled a lot more. His way of life was through taking from others.
He wasn't the only one of us to have done it, yet he was the only one who couldn't seem to stop.
I walked him through how I started making coin with stories. And Silio and Shaka would sell fruit juices, mostly from guavas.
Sjino enjoyed adding beads and sequins to Mother's clothing, and Mother would pay her a small amount for it. We all contributed to cooking some mid-break meals and sold extra to workers passing by.
But Shumpa wasn't interested in any of those things. I suggested he ask himself what he'd be good at, but he couldn't come up with any answers and was too proud to admit it.
One night, I asked him to help me make a dessert I discovered, fruit-bread swirled in with cacao and nectar.
At first, he was all flustered and admitted that maybe someone else would be better. Yet I already made sure that the others were too busy with other tasks.
"You're the perfect person," I said. "I'm sure it'll be fine."
And it was. The dessert didn't only come out as it should, but he found a way to make it better. As if the idea suddenly dawned on me, I suggested we sell desserts.
"But you're so busy telling stories."
"And what better to serve stories with than something sweet?"
He couldn't disagree, and soon we baked nightly. He served while I told stories. I'd never forget the way his face lit up when he earned his first coin.
It didn't take too long before he was ready for more and joined Silio and Shaka for their occasional jobs as carpenters. Then, soon, he tried out stonemasonry.
It was this that pushed the rest of us to do more and better.
Mother was even lucky to acquire some nobles as clients who had heard of her reputation for making stunning clothes.
While it took a long while, we finally saved enough to move further down the street, into a home with three bedrooms.
Shumpa, Silio, and Shaka had met the one selling it through work and put in a good word for Mother. Now here we were.
This didn't mean we stopped having struggles, but it meant that we found a way. The home was not complete inside, yet it had its roof, doors, and walls covering us.
Anything else needed, the boys took care of. And so that was our new home.
One evening, the boys were working late, and the sky darkened, all the stars out. Mother got worried, and Sjino and I told her to sit down while we found them.
We had a feeling we'd know where they were, and Mother probably shouldn't know. She eyed us suspiciously but let us go on.
We jumped onto the roof of the first building, and jumped on forth until we got close to the mountains.
The deep mountainside was not where Mother would want us at night. Stories of many kids disappearing here became known.
Yet one large house had a roof that was its own garden with grass sticking up and an abundance of bloom around.
The boys would come here to throw meshed-up blacktree between each other. Usually, the other kids from this side would do it with them. Sjino and I only did it once or twice, too worried we'd be caught out.
Once we landed, we saw the boys were there, only they weren't playing. They were lying down discreetly, staring over the building. Upon seeing us, they quickly yanked us down.
Shaka whispered, "What are you doing here?!"
"What are you doing here?" I asked. "Mother's waiting for us."
"We can't go yet."
"Why?" said Sjino.
"We need to see what'll happen to these kids," Shumpa said.
I raised a brow.
"Kids?"
"I told you already, Shumpa," said Silio. "They're definitely going to sell them."
"Sell them?" Sjino and I repeated.
He nodded as if it were a fact.
They slowly lifted to peek over, then encouraged us to do the same. And there it was.
Two kids with a chain made of magic red smoke on their necks and scars on their arms.
A partially masked man and woman holding them in chains and under a shaded tree. Across from them was a large, chubby figure, pulling out coin from his stubby fingers.
The masked woman pushed the chained girl forward. The girl tried to run to the boy but tripped.
Then the boy tried to run to her, but was tugged back by the masked man. He whimpered and was smacked.
"We need to do something," I said, rising, only to be pulled down by Silio. "Let's go down there."
"What?" Sjino asked. "So, we can be sold off too? I refuse."
"Sjino, you know what it's like to be taken."
"Yeah, I do. That's why I don't want it to happen again."
"Shumpa?" I asked.
He looked away, trembling.
"They're a lot bigger than us with scary magic," he murmured.
"Silio? Shaka?"
They clenched their fists but eventually just looked down, ashamedly.
"Then I'm going myself."
"I'm going with you," Shaka and Silio said instantly.
"I guess that means I am too," Shumpa sighed.
Sjino stayed quiet, then groaned.
"Fine. But if they try to take me, I'm running away. With or without you."
We agreed and rose only to see the cold eyes of the strangers pointing our way. We ducked down and grabbed our beating chests.
"Who's up there?" one of the men boomed.
We all breathed hard, saying nothing, ducking even lower.
"I said, who's up there?!"
Some steps crunched closer.
"It's me."
I knew that voice. We all knew that voice.
"What's going on here?"
"Who are you?" they all said.
"No names," Mother replied. "I want to see what you're selling."
We lifted slightly, just enough to peek. There it was.
Mother, now standing across from these wicked people. I could see the disgust fill Mother's face as she looked at the two kids, yet quickly swept it away.
"We ain't selling nuthin," said the masked man.
The masked woman lifted a spiked, wooden stake. But mother didn't stop walking forward.
"Really? Because if you were, I'd want it."
The man and the woman exchanged looks.
"I'll pay for both."
"You can't," said the other man in a raspy voice.
"We only have this one," the woman nodded to the boy. "Three thousand pieces."
"That's fine, but I want her too."
"That's not going to happen," said the chubby man who appeared to be buying her.
"Hmm," she looked up to us, almost warningly.
But how did she know?
"Three thousand pieces for him and another three thousand for her."
"No," said the chubby man.
"Five thousand for her," said the masked man holding the boy.
"What?" said the chubby man. "No!"
"So, eight thousand together?" mother asked.
"Yes," said the sellers.
"Very well."
Eight thousand? Where would she get that amount?
But sure enough, Mother wrote out the amount on a piece of paper that was already signed.
"We want coin, not a paper promise," the woman tapped at her stake.
"Of course. Yet I couldn't carry all that with me," she glanced at the woman, who was growing impatient and flicking her weapon around. "I'll take you to my money master. He doesn't mind late visits."
"Then so be it," said the masked man, and they started following.
"Oh, no," the chubby man said, pulling the girl.
In an instant, the stake had met his chest, blood gushing as he dropped.
Mother gasped as we did, but she quickly acted calm, as if this meant nothing. The man chuckled as the woman leaned down to pull out the stake and taste it, her eyes becoming red slits, flickering.
"Weak," she muttered and pushed the shaking girl forward.
They had disappeared from our view, but I already knew where they'd be.
"She's going to Koin. She must be," I said. "Let's go."
We jumped over each building quickly, and sure enough, we saw them at Koin's door. Some called him Magi Koin or Money Master for some reason.
But to us, he was just a greying man with a beautiful smile, who always took time out of his day to check on Mother and all of us.
He was very much loved in Amari.
Yet he wasn't one to fight, and this was made out even more so from the shifting eyes he kept when seeing the bloody stake and chained children.
"I'm here to collect eight thousand pieces for these two treasures."
He got a fright at the number but told them to wait. And in something of a long while, he came out with bags of coin and two glowing green, money-counting pouches with the number zero carved into them.
They filled a pouch each until it had the number one hundred. Then emptied into a plain pouch and started again, until they were done counting.
"Eight thousand," they agreed.
Magi Koin offered his wheelbarrow to them, yet he probably just picked up that they were planning to take it anyway.
Once done, the woman looked at her weapon and reached for it. But it was what was beside it that she meant to touch.
With that, she threw the chain's keys to Mother, and they strolled away without a care in the world.
Mother unlocked their chains hurriedly, and by the time she looked up, we were already beside her.
"Thank you," Mother said to Magi Koin, who nodded solemnly. "I will pay you back."
"You already have," he said, smiling.
The two were unchained yet still stood still, saying nothing. Magi Koin crouched down to face them.
"You'll be safe with her," he said.
Still nothing.
"What are your names?" Mother asked sweetly.
They gulped.
"Thirteen," the little girl said softly.
"Fourteen," said the little boy after.
Mother exchanged sympathetic looks with Magi Koin.
"Those aren't names," Sjino chimed in.
"Shh," I hushed her.
She crossed her arms, sulking, then continued, "I'm just saying, you're not slaves anymore."
The children said nothing more, yet huddled closely to each other. I nodded to Mother and moved close to them.
"I was just about to tell my family the story about this little prince and princess who arrived in this magical town, nearly taken by these ugly beasts—then all of a sudden, this Queen arrived out of nowhere to save them."
They glanced at Mother.
"Of course, she couldn't do it without the help of her trusty teacher and guardian."
Their eyes lifted to a Magi Koin, who was smiling, amused.
"And suddenly there appeared other little princes and princesses just like them," I nodded for the others to get closer.
Both the little boy and girl looked at them, their faces softening. One by one, our siblings introduced themselves to the new ones.
"I'm Salazā and don't you forget it."
They smiled for the first time.
"I'm…" they started, but didn't finish.
"Salazā gave us names," said Silio.
"Some better than others," Shumpa whined.
Shaka firmly added, "But better to have names than none at all."
"Would you like to know what the names of the prince and princess in the story are?" Sjino asked.
They gave a curt nod.
"Oh," I stuttered. "Uh…the princess was called…Sana…and the prince…Sando."
"Sana and Sando," Sjino said. "Do you like it?"
"Sana," Sana tapped her chest with a half-smile.
"Sando," he followed. "We like it."
"Then that's what we'll call you."
Sana came close to me, tugged at my skirt, and whispered, "Will you tell us the story?"
Her thumb went into her mouth.
"Of course, once we're somewhere warm. We can make some cacao…if Mother's fine with it?"
Mother could be quite fierce at times, yet she softly nodded.
"Magi Koin, I know you might want to go back to sleep. But would you like to join?"
"Oh, I'm not that old, dear. I'd love to hear one of your tales," he told me. "If you have cacao, I'll bring the agave."
"Agave!" we all cheered.
We usually only had sweeteners for special meals, like an occasional dessert, but even rarer was to have something for our drinks. And he didn't just bring a spoon, he brought a whole jar.
Once we all had a cup in our hands, the tale began, and there was cheering, crying, and laughing.
Mother even squeezed Magi Koin's arm at a suspenseful moment. His hand softly patted hers.
Once Magi Koin left, Mother had spoken privately with Sana and Sando and had us check them for wounds before showing them their rooms.
The new home might not have been a palace, as in the story, yet it was something special.
Mother had her room as always, yet now the boys had their own, and the girls had their own.
It was only when Sana was asleep that Mother appeared, whispering for Sjino and me to join her in the eating room. And already waiting were Shaka, Shumpa, and SIlio, playfully shoving each other.
Mother took a deep breath and asked, "How long have you guys been going there?"
Our lips shut. If she knew, she'd probably give us a good smack or two.
"I'm waiting," she tapped her foot.
We looked to each other with hung heads, all opening our mouths but unable to speak. Out of nowhere, Mother sobbed, "Do you now see why I don't want you there?!"
Our heads shot up in surprise. Mother rarely cried.
"You might not be my own by blood," she sobbed. "But you're still my family."
We all mumbled as much of a sorry as we could make out without crying too, then huddled to hug her. This made her cry even more.
All we could keep saying was, "Sorry, Mother."
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