The Doppelgänger of Dormond Street by Sue Harry

7. Mrs. Sally Mare

I was born in The One. How different my life had been back then, living in that busy Metropolis. With over two million people, The One was the largest and first of The Seven. Though we called these places 'Towns', they were in fact large cities, split up into townships with a Matriarch at each townships epicentre. I almost laughed at the idea of that many Matriarchs in one place. You would think that every tree for a hundred miles or more would have died from its root, with all the power that emanated from there, but over thousands of years, the population had grown to such a size, that walking through The One was like wading through shallow water - difficult if you were travelling long distances but hardly noticeable if you were just going to Sunday Market.

Our location on the northeasterly corner of the world meant that we were rich in pearls, the accepted currency in most parts, and silk, which we cultivated and exported in the west, which was also home to mines that were rich in amber and topaz. We also led the way in industry, helping to develop the worlds train system. It wasn't very comprehensive yet, but it wouldn't be long before all of the Seven towns, and quite a few of the largest inland villages, were connected and had a regular service.

I would never had left had it not been for The Gift. I was one of two boys and three girls. Of all my siblings, my parents were most surprised when I developed The Gift, and even more surprised that it had revealed itself in such an extraordinary way when I was just eleven. You see, for all of my efforts, I was not shaping up to be a good woman of The One, let alone a Matriarch. As far as I was aware, there was only one or two Matriarchs in our family anyway - a Grand Mother and a distant cousin.

My mother was married to a Matriarchs son so having a child with The Gift was not outside of the realm of possibilities, it was just unlikely. The females in our families seem to have won some ancient lottery when it came to siring the next generation of Matriarchs, and my mother couldn't remember who was the Matriarch in her lineage, but there must have been one at some point. Even though my parents brought us up in The Way, as was the case with all families in The One, they had no real expectations other than to raise their children to be good people, and to make sure we married well.

To be a studious child was probably the biggest asset to a family in The One, but even as young as three, my parents could tell something was wrong with me. I used to say I couldn't hear them very well because the other voices were too loud. I would try to read my books and learn my instruments, but I was always so distracted, I could barely take anything in. My mother had taken me for countless visits to our townships Matriarch, Mrs Kanahor, but she had never heard of such an affliction occurring in one so young and chalked it up to early madness, giving my mother some sleeping beans in her possession, and then sending us in our way. I suppose hearing voices, no matter how old you are , is a bad thing, and Mrs Kanahor wanted nothing to do with them or me. It was only when my Gift revealed itself, that things changed.

Every day, I sat in my mothers drawing room, trying my hardest to play a Gungo. It was a large, stringed instrument that you carried on your back but it wrapped over your shoulder, allowing you to play it in the front. With ten strings, it was no easy feat to learn even the simplest pieces and play them with my tiny fingers, but it was one of the instruments a toddler mastered, and I was severely behind.

My father had lost patience with me a few years back, so had purchased the services of a Gungo instructor from one of the Inlands. Mr Hamami was an incredible teacher, and was patient with me, despite my slow progress. He would wait for me to gather myself when he noticed my eyes darting to and fro, and made horrible jokes in order to make me laugh and ease my distress. Mr Hamami was my favourite person and I looked forward to his lessons everyday, or at least I looked forward to spending time with him. I felt less stupid, less alone, and a little less mad around him.