CHAPTER 3 - AUNT SYBIL

Sofia expected to be reprimanded, but Aunt Sybil merely led her to the small bathroom at the back of the house, then disappeared up the stairs without saying a single word.

The fire in the bathroom was already burning, even though Aunt Sybil was usually obsessed with saving firewood. To her, a single moment of warmth in an empty room was the embodiment of wastefulness. It was Uncle Tomas' duty to provide the wood, either by cutting it himself or buying it from a neighbor, and he could never be trusted to procure enough in time. Maybe that played a role in Aunt Sybil's stinginess, too.

Sofia quickly removed her wet clothes. She took a cloth and was pleasantly surprised that the water was already hot. She rubbed the cold from her body until she was red and warm and prickly.

Despite this comfort, she couldn't shake an eerie feeling. The bathroom had been prepared as if for an important visitor. How long had Aunt Sybil known what was going on outside? Had she been watching from the window? Had she heard what Orì and Sofia had talked about? And why had she taken the time to prepare the bathroom beforehand?

Sofia couldn't picture her aunt taking deliberate time for any domestic task. Aunt Sybil was not the kind of woman who took pride in her home, nor in her child-rearing skills. Sofia didn't understand her aunt's character and behavior, but she didn't question them, either. While she didn't think of her as a maternal figure, she had no memory of her own mother, and therefore nothing to compare her to. Pip and Tin didn't have a mother either, so Sofia didn't know what she was missing, except from books, and she tended to skip over the parts that spoke of families with too much tenderness.

After putting on the clothes Aunt Sybil had laid out for her – for the first time since she could remember – Sofia looked at herself in the mirror. Usually, when she considered her appearance, which she didn't do often, she saw a girl with no distinct features. But now that she was able to compare herself to Orì, she found that she looked very different from her.

Orì had been tall and slim as if pulled to the maximum of her length by some invisible force. Her light blue complexion and silver hair had given her an otherworldly appearance as if she would be neither cold nor warm to the touch. She had been fluid and slippery as if she was neither fixed in time nor in space, but changeable, mercurial. Sofia had not trusted her, and she felt that she had been right not to.

Sofia herself was tall for her age, though she didn't know this. She was taller than Pip and Tin, but she thought that maybe it was normal for girls to be taller and stronger than boys. She had brown hair that was always messy, even though she brushed it every morning, unknotting the strands until tears came to her eyes. Her eyes had an undefined muddy color which Sofia secretly resented because girls in books had blue or green eyes or even the color of violets. Her skin was becoming more tan with every day she spent outside.

She wondered what Orì had seen when she had looked at her. She had never thought about other people looking at her and forming an opinion of her. If she never saw the blue girl again, would she remember her? And how would she remember her?

With one last unsatisfied glance into the mirror, Sofia left the bathroom. The house was quiet. Uncle Tomas had spent the night with his drinking buddies and was still asleep, and Aunt Sybil had taken up her duties upstairs as if nothing had happened.

Sofia considered her usual tactics for joining her aunt, bringing her something, or coming up with a phony question. She decided that this wasn't necessary for once.

She walked up the narrow spiral staircase, curiously feeling herself tread into her aunt's footsteps. What must it be like to climb these stairs every day? The walls were cramped, and she had to be careful not to bump her head. When she had been smaller, she had sometimes run up these stairs - to Aunt Sybil's horror - and had always come away with bruises on her elbows and knees. Now, as she had grown, there was no question of running anymore, the space was much too tight.

As she entered the room, her aunt was sitting in her chair, a book open but unread in her lap. Her eyes were fixed onto the bridge. There was nothing to see.

Sofia sat down on the windowsill. She pulled her knees up under her chin. For a while, they both looked out the window without talking.

The river was peaceful and gurgled quietly, leaves floating lazily on its surface. And yet, the further towards the other side Sofia looked, the more torrential the water became, dark and dangerous, tearing along with brutal force. She wondered if her aunt ever allowed her eyes to wander to the other side of the shore. She wasn't even certain if they were both seeing the same things. She wanted to ask her this but didn't know how.

Instead, she asked a question that she knew the answer to anyway.

"Do you guard the bridge every day?"

Aunt Sybil did not turn towards her. "Every day."

"Why?"

"Because it is the duty of the Guardian of the Bridge, and I am the Guardian of the Bridge."

Aunt Sybil had a frustratingly straightforward way of answering questions, cutting off every thought that might open up into an interesting direction. It was all but impossible to strike up a real conversation with her.

"How did you become the Guardian?" This, Sofia did not know.

Aunt Sybil's mouth pulled as if she had bitten into something sour.

"I came here when I was a very small child. So small that I only remember the journey from other people's accounts. It was me, my brothers Sermon and Davis, and a few other children who had been sent to the Border Village. People kept leaving, and there were worries there would be nobody left to guard the border, and then people from Nihon would cross over. Sermon was chosen to be the Guardian of the Bridge because he was the oldest, and at first, he walked through the village swollen with pride, like a silly peacock. But as soon as he realized the responsibility, he started to neglect his studies and didn't show up for his shifts. So, it was decreed that I was to be the successor to the previous Guardian."

"Were you the second oldest?" Sofia asked timidly.

She couldn't picture Aunt Sybil as a child. To her, she had always been an elderly woman, thin and rigid, serious and impenetrable, with nothing on her mind but her duty.

"A few were older than me," Aunt Sybil said. "But by then, we were not strange children any longer, and they had been able to observe us and determine our aptitudes."

"They?"

Aunt Sybil still wasn't looking at Sofia. Her eyes remained directed towards the bridge, but they were glazed over, lost in her memories and all the unlived versions of her life.

"The Assessors. They travel the border villages, making sure that the bridges are well-protected, and that there are no crossings from Nihon. They are clerks, in a manner of speaking. They love their paperwork, that much I can tell you." For the first time, a little smile played around Aunt Sybil's lips, but it quickly vanished. "They are everywhere, but they live nowhere. That's how they ensure that we remain safe."

This didn't seem like a well-thought-out system to Sofia, but she figured there were many things she didn't understand, and she did not want to interrupt this rare and precious moment. Aunt Sybil wasn't fond of objections.

Her throat became suddenly dry.

"Will I be the Guardian after you?"

Sofia wasn't sure what she wanted to hear. Guardian seemed to be a lonely, reclusive life, and Aunt Sybil wouldn't strike anybody as a happy person. But it was the only example Sofia knew. She wondered what Orì's life was like, but she came up blank. She had not the slightest idea about Nihon, not how the air smelled, if it was cold or warm, or if all the people looked and behaved like Orì. She had so many questions that her head was bursting from the restraint she had to show towards her aunt. Once Aunt Sybil ended this conversation, she might not be able to start it again.

"Nothing has been decided," Aunt Sybil said, her face so tight it resembled a block of wood. "Nowadays, children seem to be unable to do what they are told. And everybody asks for their opinion, which does not fare well for building character."

Sofia couldn't remember when her opinion had ever been requested, but she held her tongue. She chose her next question with care.

"Aunt Sybil, have you ever been to Nihon?"

"Been to Nihon?" Aunt Sybil looked at Sofia for the first time, so surprised was she. "Child, nobody ever goes to Nihon."

"But -" Sofia said, frowning, "It is right there."

She pointed out of the window, at the bridge covering the distance between the village and Nihon. There was no obstacle, no border post, no barrier of any kind. Walking across it should have been the easiest, most mundane activity there was. But even as she spoke, Sofia felt the impossibility of crossing the bridge, and she almost regretted having asked this silly question.

"It is not our world," Aunt Sybil said. "You wouldn't fly to the moon, now would you?"

"That's because I can't fly."

Aunt Sybil pulled her eyebrows together. "You know how I meant it. It is another world, not like ours. We have been separate ever since the Great Wars."

Sofia's gaze slid over the book spines in her aunt's library. She couldn't remember a single one that mentioned this expression.

"Our people and people from Nihon cannot be together," Aunt Sybil continued. "The differences are much too great."

Sofia thought about Orì and all the strange things she had said.

"What differences?"

"They have magic." Aunt Sybil pronounced the word with disgust as if she'd like to hurl it across the room, but Sofia felt as if the air had gone out of her lungs for the second time that day.

"Magic?" she breathed.

"It is not something to marvel at," Aunt Sybil said with a strict voice. "Not like the stories for children, where magical tricks save the day and fill everybody with wonderment. Real magic changes people's character. It makes them lazy and dishonest and wicked. Magic is nothing but cheating."

"How do you know?"

"It is common sense. If you could change at will and do anything you wanted, you would go through life a liar and a cheater, wouldn't you?"

Sofia thought that what her aunt was describing sounded marvellous, but she nodded dutifully.

"That girl outside," Aunt Sybil continued. "Did she strike you as a good and nice person?"

No, Sofia thought.

"I don't know," she said, suddenly worrying if she was a good and nice person. She was often bored and angry, and she thought that Pip and Tin were stupid, that Uncle Tomas was weak, and that Aunt Sybil was mean. Those weren't the thoughts of a good and nice person.

Aunt Sybil smiled in a pinched way. Sofia had the feeling that she would now say what she had wanted to say all along. And it didn't appear to be something that brought her pleasure.

"Every exchange between us and Nihon needs to be documented and evaluated by the Assessors. I have to report the incident, and when they come to the village, they will question you."

A coldness spread through Sofia's spine.

"The Assessors," she repeated. The word had a menacing feeling, a strange kind of power that didn't need an explanation to be real.

"They are only looking out for us," Aunt Sybil said, trying to sound soothing, but not meeting Sofia's eyes.

"Of course," Sofia said. She wanted to get out of this room with its narrow walls that sealed off the outside world. For once, she even wanted to get away from the bridge, away from the endless space behind it that seemed to be alternatingly opening up and closing shut like a beating heart.

"Shall I go to the store and fetch dinner?"

Aunt Sybil looked relieved, glad the conversation had come to an end. "Yes. I am sure your uncle is quite incapable of providing for his family once again."

And as Sofia was almost out of the room, she added, "You are not allowed to talk to that girl ever again. And if you see her, or anybody like her, you need to tell me immediately. You understand that, right?"

Sofia stopped in the doorframe and looked back at her aunt.

"Yes, Aunt Sybil," she said.

Author: Raphaelle Hoffmann