For Darkness Shows the Stars

shell-pink parasol with deeper pink fringe, despite the fact that there wasn’t even a hint of sunshine this morning. In all of Elliot’s eighteen years, she’d never seen her older sister in work clothes. The closest Tatiana ever got was a riding habit.
    “Hello, Elliot!” she warbled, though her expression remained sly. “Have you come to see the new racetrack?”
    Elliot ignored her and faced their father. “What’s going on here?”
    Only now did her father turn, but his placid countenance betrayed nothing. “Ah, Elliot. Good to see you. You should have a talk with that COR foreman.” He gestured vaguely toward Dee. “She was a full ten minutes moving over the laborers this morning. Is she too far along in her pregnancy to be of any use to us?”
    Elliot watched as the last of the green-gold sheaves were trampled beneath the feet of the Reduced and their plows. Most of the workers were now raking up the remains of the carnage, and the field was returned to a dull, useless brown. The culmination of two years’ work, destroyed.
    “Father,” Elliot said, fighting to keep her voice from shaking. She couldn’t let him know. She had to treat it as if it was any other field. “What have you done? This field was almost ready for harvest.”
    “Really?” He arched a brow. “The stalks seemed terribly short. Of course, I don’t have your way with wheat.” He chuckled, as if the very concept were preposterous. “And besides, this field was the best choice for the racetrack. We’re going to build the pavilion right over there, near the creek.”
    Elliot opened her mouth to respond, then shut it. What was the purpose? The crop was destroyed, and no amount of pointing out the folly of the move would induce her father to consider his actions before repeating them. She could tell him the percentage of his harvest he’d lost, and what that would mean in terms of money at market or Reduced that would go hungry this winter unless he imported some of his neighbors’ grain. She could tell him how very near they were to going hungry given his lack of consideration to the farm. She could even tell him the truth; that the wheat he’d just plowed under was worth more grain than most in fields of this size. It was her special wheat.
    It was important wheat.
    Of course, that confession would come with even worse consequences.
    So as always, she swallowed the scream building in her throat and kept her tone light. Helpful. Dutiful. “Are there any other of the planted fields you think you’ll have need of before the harvest?”
    “And if there are?” Tatiana sniffed.
    “I’d like to make sure you don’t suffer any more delays,” said Elliot, mildly. “I can arrange for the laborers very quickly.”
    “So can Father, and so can I,” said Tatiana. “Or do you think you have some special pull with the Reduced?”
    Only because they would recognize her on sight, and not Tatiana. But Elliot would never say that. It would only serve to dig her hole deeper. “I’d like to make it more convenient for—”
    “Fine,” said Baron North. “This field will be sufficient for my needs. It was the only one I found”—he kicked at a stray stalk—“problematic.”
    He turned then to his eldest daughter and began pointing with his walking stick to illustrate the boundaries of his proposed racetrack. As he wandered off, Elliot did a quick calculation of how many laborers and how much money he’d no doubt require for that project. They’d have no extra grain to sell this fall, and hardly enough money to buy what they needed to make it through the winter. But her father wouldn’t see it that way. He deserved a racetrack more than his Reduced laborers deserved bread.
    Elliot slid between the crossbars of the split-rail fence and into the field. Moist, freshly turned earth crumbled beneath the heels of her boots, and here and there in the deadened dust she could see flecks of gold.
    “I’m so sorry, Elliot,” Dee said, joining her. “They were growing real nice, too.”
    “There was nothing you could have done.” Elliot’s voice was flat, but she spoke the truth. Any delay on the foreman’s part would only have incited her father’s anger—and his need for retribution.
    “What did your da— What did Baron North say about me?” Dee’s eyes were filled with concern. “I know he—”
    “He’s not going to send you to the birthing house.” He’d probably already forgotten the Post’s existence. Dee