CZM Book Club: "The Sapling Cage" by Margaret Killjoy

My pronouns are she, they, and so a lot of what's like in the text really really resonated with me. And so I was thrilled to be able to narrate this title, and I'm thrilled to be here to read a little piece of it for you guys today.

called The Sapling Cage. It comes out September twenty fourth, twenty twenty four, in both audiobook and print book form, and you can pre order either the print or the audio, or both if you're feeling spicy. I don't know why that's spicy, but you could do it.

ice or like stone. Its leaves were gray. I don't think trees are supposed to be like that, Blaine said. We'd finished our morning work on the communal fields not a hundred yards away through the trees. Horses ran in the pasture, excited to be outside after so many months of snow. I could smell rain in the air. It should have been a perfect day. But the alder was dead, and it shouldn't have been. Witchcraft. Lane said. That was her explanation for everything strange. It couldn't be the witches.

I said, that was my defense of everything blamed on witchcraft. She paced around the tree. It took her several paces for every lap. She was half a year younger than me, she'd just turned sixteen, but she was the one always trying to burn off extra energy. I peered at the frost gathered on the alder's bark. I see another one, Laine said. She took off, running further into the forest, and I caught up with her a ways away. A young pine was dead and cold, its needles gone gray.

One shattered at the touch of my finger. Who else but witches, Lane asked, Trees don't turn cold. Only a witch could save it. I said, you'll be able to save it. Oh hooray, Lane said, sarcastically. It's not that bad. I didn't make that deal. I don't think my dead mom's promise she'd mean anything. Layne and I started back toward the village. Witches get to wear those black skirts, though, I said, and curse people and heal people. I'd rather be a knight, you know. I'd rather be a knight.

Why are you arguing with me about this? That was a fair question. I thought it over as we walked. If I was a girl, I'd pretend to be you and go in your place. I'd always wanted to be a witch. It's a shame you aren't a girl, Laine said. I agreed, not just because of the witch thing. One of my earliest memories was being glad that my name Laurel was as common for girls as it was for boys. Five years back, my mother had given up trying to keep me out of her face, powder and paint. Laine

had always been gamed to trade clothes with me. Those were the only two people in town who I talked to about how I should have been a girl. I had enough social problems already. When I was little, maybe seven, I told my friend River to call me a girl instead of a boy, and he just punched me right then and there, without thinking about it. My mom thought my nose was broke and a traveling witch had to

set it for me. River apologized, and maybe he even meant it that he was sorry, but he'd made it seem like the whole thing was my fault, like I'd scared him or something. So yeah, only my mom and Lane knew about the dresses and the paint. If I were a witch, though, I could turn the next person like River into a goat, or figure out things like why those trees were cold. I'll do it anyway, I said, as we walked through the fields of flax and barley.

What I started talking faster so I wouldn't lose my nerve. When the coven comes through to take you, I'll tell them i'm you, and I'll go off and learn to be a witch. You're a boy, Laine said. Girls are allowed to be nights, now, why can't boys be witches? And besides, it's not my fault I'm a boy. It's still true. I can pretend. Lane walked up next to me and threw her arms around my shoulders. What if you get caught. I won't get caught, I said. Strangers

always think I'm a girl. Anyway, My mother and I ran the stables. There were more popular roads than Southede, and there were more prosperous towns than Ledstone on Southeide, but we still saw our share of wayfarers. Most were on their way to Port Sac to our east, or Deadmond Castle to our west, and most of them had horses, and most of them stabled with us overnight. We served

knights and mercenaries and merchants and brigands. And I was just reaching an age where grown men took not a small amount of interest in trying to figure out my gender. I didn't have even a hint of a beard, my shoulders were narrow, and I had my mother's sharp features. These are witches, though Lane reminded me, they can see more than other people can. Were you trying to talk me out of it? I asked no. She squeezed me tighter against her side as we walked. I'm just worried.

What will you tell your dads or your mother. I won't tell Grell or Jorge anything. My dad's had a home all the way in Port Sac. I lived with them every autumn for a month or so. When the storms kept them on land most of the year. I didn't hear from them, and their only contribution to my upbringing was the silver they sent my mother when they could. Mom, though she'll understand, I love it like I love the Baron, my mother said when I told her, that was about

as close as she came to cursing. She sure didn't love Baron, need no one did. She sat in her rocking chair, a clay mug of wine in her hand. I'd waited until after supper to tell her, because she never took news well on an empty stomach. I didn't either, come to think of it, she took a long draw of the mug. You're old enough to make your own mistakes. After that, she didn't say anything at all, which was

kind of worse than her yelling at me. Really, it left me with nothing to do but stand around there was only one good chair on the porch of the stable house and come to my own conclusions about why it was a bad idea. I didn't want to do that, I'd made up my so I tried not to linger on what the witches might do to me if they found out, or what nights sometimes did to witches. I'll get to learn magic, I said, real magic. Cauldrons and curses, and maybe I'll even learn how to fly. What is

it that you think witches do? They travel around doing good things? I said, they help some people and hurt some people, depending on what they deserve. That's what you want to do, help some people, hurt other people. Since when have you liked hurting people? I don't know, mom, since never. I guess it was my turn to grow quiet. I'd probably learned that trick from her. The cicadas were out and early too, filling the air with their rising

and falling song. The town drunk said it was going to be an irrational year, one of those years where the seasons don't do it, there's a host to and crops fail. No one paid him over much heed, But the cicadas really shouldn't have been out just yet. There's no way to disguise yourself, my mom said, breaking the silence, not forever. You don't look at now, but you're going to grow into a man by then. I bet I'll have magic enough to hide it. I said, I won't

hear the end of it, never, not from Grell. When she invoked my birth father's name, I knew that was basically the end of it. She'd given up. I was my mother's child through and through, and she knew I didn't care what Grell thought. I hadn't inherited anything from Grell, but skin half a shade darker than my mother's olive. This is it, then, she said. She poured the dregs of her wine off into the grass, honored the dead,

as she did with every coup. The cavin is going to be by soon enough, and you're going to lie to them, and you'll learn to be a witch. Not a sailor, not a knight, not another's forbid, a stable master, but a witch, my son, a witch. I nodded, grinning. She hadn't stopped me. I knew deep in my heart that if it was truly a terrible idea, my mother would have tried harder to stop me. What's Laine going to do while you're off being her? She want to learn how to run a stable. She's going to be

a knight. Of course, she is my mom's side. I knew she wasn't happy about me leaving. I knew she wanted someone to care about the stables, about Ledstone the way she did. But that wasn't me. It wouldn't have done anyone any good for me to pretend otherwise. But if you want to pretend to care about things, you could pretend to care about the advertisers that support the pot guests that you run, much like I'm doing right now.

with vines and half the lumber taken to rot. Laane did what she could to maintain it, but she'd live there alone for three years. She spent most of her days working the communal fields, and hadn't the skills or resources for serious repairs. The manner was a shadow of its former glory. That manner dead manner. Lane called it rhyming the name. A few hundred years ago Lane's ancestors had founded the town to mine. Lad then sworn fealty

to some baroness or baron. Serfs moved in, and those who weren't mining took to farming on the communal fields. One hundred years back, collectivisation had swept through the Lowlands, and the baron had allowed it Rather than lose power completely. Lane's family stayed richer than most of the rest of us, but only through trade and inheritance. They no longer ruled, and they no longer took tax. Only the baron did either of those things. By Lane's mother's time, the family

barely had enough to maintain the ancient manner. The first night I spent there waiting for the witches, Lane led me up treacherous stairs to her parents' old living quarters. We had to pick our way carefully across the sagging floor in the lamplight. I'm going to bring this place back to glory, Lane said, tugging her shirtsleeve free from a protruating nail. I'll be the first night protector Letston's hat in fifty years. You really think you'll come back,

I asked, you won't. I mean I'll visit my mom, I said, sometimes we could use a village witch, Lane said, Just think of this place with a night protector and a village witch. Too much world to see, I said, since I'd made up my mind to join the witches, I'd spent half my time waking and asleep imagining all the things I was off to see and do. We stopped before a heavy cherrywood wardrobe set in the corner of the master bedroom. Its hinges were faded brass, but

gold filigrees still gleamed eternally bright along the doorpan. Before Lane's mother died, she had always kept us out of this room. After Lane's mother died, Lane herself had solemnly told me that this wardrobe was off limits. Lane selected an iron key hung on a chain from her belt and held it aloft so we might appreciate the seriousness of the moment. You ready, she asked. I nodded. I could scarcely wait. She opened the wardrobe. Black skirts and

dresses hung from hooks. Stockings woven in intricate patterns lay in a pile. Jewelry finely crafted from plain materials, glittered beneath the glass lid of an ebony box. I'd studied at the loom enough to know the long days it took to weave a few yards of flax or wool. This was the accumulated wealth of a life. My mother left pretty clear instructions for when I left to join the Witches. Lane said I was to bring a short dress, a long dress, a warm cloak, a winter skirt, and

three pairs of stockings. So pick out whatever you'd like my own dress. I would have my own dress, two of them. Even. I spent most of an hour making my decision, modeling each garment in front of the mirror on the inside door of the wardrobe. Not even Leona of the lad had ever owned a smooth glass mirror, so my image was distorted. That suited me fine. It let me imagine how I ought to look. I let my hair down out of its top knot long and straight and black. It framed my face well. I'd have

worn it down all the time if I could. Though I was much taller than Lane, I was nearly the same size as Leona had been. Most of the dresses sat funny across my chest since I had nothing to fill them out, and even fewer of them were loose enough across the hips to hide the bulge between my legs. But in the end I found two that fit me just right. Both were high waisted, which made my legs look longer and my torso shorter. One linen, one wool.

When I wore those dresses, I couldn't stop smiling. You're beautiful, Lene said, she was smiling too. She thought for a moment, then dug through the wardrobe. She pulled out a necklace, A black stone pendant hung from a delicate steel chain. She held it out to me. No one in town had anything so nice. Your mother didn't say anything about taking any jewelry, I said, she's dead. Take it as I thank you. I took it and put it on. It hung just above the low neckline of the long dress,

the stone cool and comforting against my chest. Despite how I was born, I was going to get to be a witch, despite how I was born, I was going to get to live as a woman. Lane squeezed me. She was crying into my neck. Thank you, she whispered. Of course I started crying too. I slept in my long dress that night. I wanted to get used to wearing it, and also I just didn't want to take it off. I slept in one of the empty rooms in the manner. A windstorm howled outside, and branches cracked

in the distance. I dreamt about a witch with translucent skin. I saw her skull and her veins and her teeth like I was looking through foggy glass. She was a real woman, a real witch who'd wandered through town when I was an infant. I dreamt about her ever since. That night though I was a witch, and the glass faced Witch was with me, next to me, tied to me with thick hemp rope. We were in a boat.

Hands lifted us out of the boat and threw us overboard, and we sank, and I was drowning, tied the glass faced witch.

a threat to their power and haunted them. If I told the wrong knights we were expecting witches, I might even get them killed. Most of the news was talk of strife. Far to the north, Duchess Helta had pressed some ancient and dubious claim and annexed some baron's holdings. The news felt impossibly distant. I tried to make myself useful at the stables, but as the days were or on, I got more and more anxious and distracted. One day I forgot to fasten a buckle, and a passing merchant

fell from her horse and injured her back. After that, my mother told me it was about time she got used to running the place alone anyway, which left me with too much time to worry. What would witches do to an impostor would they kick me out, turn me into a sow, or kill me. They'd probably just kicked me out. Maybe my mother took to eating dinner with us at Lane's house, particularly after she fired me, and

I spent more of my time baking and cooking. Five days after Mother's May, I was reaching my breaking point. We ate on the back porch where the overgrown garden kept away prying eyes, and I wore my short dress. The sun was just below the horizon. We were mopping up the last of a turnip and barley soup with fresh baked bread, and I just couldn't keep my feelings cooped up anymore. I give up, I said, this waiting. It's going to kill me, or the witches will kill me,

or people will kill me for being a witch. Better, I just give up. I'll go be a sailor or something instead. Sailors see the world too. Laine looked up, her brown eyes just starting to go wide with fear. If I backed out, the coven would take her instead. You can do anything you want with your life, Laurel, my mother said. I always knew a lecture was coming when she used my name. And I don't wish you were off to be a witch. But you made a

promise to Lane. I didn't say I promise, I said, as soon as the words came out of my mouth, I regretted them, saying, you promise isn't the only way to promise. Yes, it's okay, Laine said, it was nice of you to offer, but if you back out, it's okay. I didn't like my mom being mean to me, and I didn't like Lane being nice to me. I didn't

like much of anything at all. The Bloodston bell told twice the Ledstone bell rang once for friendly knights and merchants come to town, twice for friendly brigands and witches and other people the baron didn't approve of three times for royalty, and cacophonously for any of the above who looked like they might stir up trouble. Never mind, I said, standing up, I'll do it upstairs with you. My mother said to Lane, out of sight, you look too much

like your mother. Laane darted over and hugged me. She pulled back to look at me like she was trying to say something. Then she gave up, shook her head, and ran into the house. Are you going through with this, my mother asked. I stood up straight, smoothed out my dress. Of course, I said, I made a promise. My arms shook uncontrollably at my side as I walked to the center of town, and it was all I could do to concentrate on my breathing. We have come for the daughter of Leona.

from the far north. Two of them were as old as anyone I'd ever seen. Two of them could scarcely have been twenty. One of the youngest had a fresh wound cut across her face and stood with the help of a crotch. Two of the others had bandaged arms. I must have had trouble on the way. Maybe that was why they were so late. Most of them were armed with spears or axes or swords. The uninjured young one carried what looked like a bird cage covered with

a cloth embroidered in the indecipherable rooms of witchcraft. Behind them, a girl my age stood shyly, like she didn't know quite what to do. Another recruit, most likely, she wore the most beautiful black cloak made of glistening sea wool. Its hood had a long pointed tail. That was a good cloak for a witch. I'm Laurel, I said, I lie the best when I sort of just avoid telling the truth instead of lying outright, so I didn't mention that I only had one name. I stepped forward, one witch.

One of the crones broke from the line and circled me, looking me over. The rest of the witches carried baskets of wicker on their backs, but this woman bore a casket child sized instead. Laurel of the lead, she said, my name was just Laurel, as my family bore no titles. But who was I to correct a witch who'd likely been born before my long dead great grandmother. She stopped in front of me. Do you come willing or merely accepting? She asked? There was an old scar on her cheek,

a crescent moon white against her dark olive skin. I come willing, I said, My voice wavered as I spoke. What had I gotten myself into? With eyes as old and wise as hers, how could she not see right through me? The witch smiled. Some of her teeth were yellow, some of her teeth were black. One of her teeth was captain gold, another captain pearl. The contrast between them all was unnerving. Not many come willing, not these past years, why, I asked. She ignored my question and went back to

stand in the line. Only a handful of people had gathered to see this strange procession. The herbalist, a few farmers, the midwife, River's mother. If any one of them said anything about me dressed up like a girl, the whole plan would fall apart. My mother stood among the onlookers, balancing my wicker basket of clothes on her hip, holding it by one of the woven shoulder straps. Laurel of the lead, I summon you into the order of the Vine today and forever you are, Laurel of the Vine.

I nodded. I knew no courtly manners for an event like this. You have anything to bring with you, just clothes, I said, My mother walked towards me, then setting the basket down by my feet. Tears welled in the corners of her eyes. You've been like a daughter to me, my mother said. She winked and hugged me for a moment. Go off and be your best self. The chrome looked between me and my mother for a brief moment, as if noticing the similarities in our features, but she said

nothing with no more formality. The line of witches turned and walked out of town. I grabbed my basket of clothes and hurried after. Hey, I hadn't seen through me. I was going to be a witch. I wasn't shaking anymore. I was grinning.

It was really really nice to to have like a magic story that I got to tell because this was the first time I had ever gotten to tell any sort of coming of age story as like a trans person okay, or if not the first one of the first yeah, but yeah, so it it meant a lot that I got to like sort of help bring this story to life, and I had such a good time with it. And I will say this job is a lot easier when the writing is good. And the writing

is so good in this book, So thank you. Even if you're not going to listen to me, you should buy the book listeners, you should buy the book and give it a read, because holy hell, it's a wonderful story. Even with the way you're saying about you know, the writing itself on something right when I read for this show. I find that certain stories are so much easier to read than others, just in terms of the number of

retakes I need to do. And it's interesting because even listening to you, like, obviously no one.

And I read that when I was in fifth grade and it blew my little gender confused brain in a way that I still don't entirely know how to wrap my head around, Like, oh, yeah, I'm a girl who likes swords who pretended to be a boy for her entire childhood, Like you know, I identify with that character. Oh yeah, and I wanted to do something kind of

the other direction. And there's actually a short story that someone who's sometimes a guest on my other show, Lori Penny wrote, I actually don't think it's been published, but I read it while we were in a writing workshop together that had as like a side character a boy

who went off to become a witch. And so I think that that idea was always kind of sitting in the back of my mind, and I very like confused ideas about you know, gender is like a moving target and the way we talk about it as a society

as a moving target. It's absolutely it's different now than it was in twenty sixteen when I came out, And it's different in twenty sixteen than it was in two thousand and four when I, you know, first started calling myself Margaret, because I managed to call myself Margaret for twelve years before I bothered telling anyone I was a girl.

And like I remember one time I was like just like sleeping in the park during the day and then I like woke up and ran somewhere and I wasn't thinking about it. My like skirt fell down and all the like. They weren't like the cool punks. They were like the kind of scary punks or whatever. They saw it, and they were like, yeah, all right whatever, And I was like, oh right, folks who live on the edge of society don't give a shit about stuff like this. Yeah.

the body of a young boy. And then I proceeded to not think about that for fifteen years.

this gender stuff? Because stuff is happening. Then I learned like about the gender fluid kind of label and non binary and just how it's not necessarily like this purely defined like man or woman kind of thing, and how that was like a thing, and I was like, Okay, I'm probably somewhere in that camp. I guess like we'll go with like queer ish and then I didn't really do anything beyond that. I had like done some research into like do I want to transition? Do I not

want to transition? And like at the time, I was like I don't think this is for me, at least not right now. Yeah, and then I ran with that of like, yeah, I'm this queer person who's very like male presenting and all of that, and then the pandemic of twenty twenty happened, and I had all of this free time to actually think about like things in life and like being like, huh, when faced with the very real prospect of my own mortality, am I like any regrets?

And I was like kind of wish I had explored gender a little more, and you know, maybe like dipped my toes and so like I don't know, like what's HRT about. And then I remember like having those thoughts, and I was like, oh, son of a bitch, Okay, I guess I have to do the thing I've been avoiding doing. I guess I have to do the thing

that I've been avoiding thinking about for a while. And so I got a therapist and like talked things out, and like we both very quickly like came to the consensus of like yeah, you're trans yeah, and I was able to start HRT hell yeah. But like, yeah, it's really funny because like I remember starting like HRT and like I was very much like playing with like they then she heard she they, I was she they for a while, and then I kept getting consistently they themmed

only and so I was like Okay. I think a lot of this was from like the the cist people in my life who I love dearly. Yeah, I like love you all and like, believe me, I was happy that y'all were so to practice theay them because that's hard for SIS people.

the same thing. It's like staring at your mortality and you're like, well, I don't want to be remembered so completely incorrectly, you know, I like just don't want to be like just like imagining in my own tombstone with like the wrong name on it, you know, And you're just like, yeah, it's hard and it's hard to imagine that, and so that was like, yeah, that was a lot of what made it feel necessary for me to come out.

And it's interesting because in this book, you know, the protagonist, not to spoil anything, the protagonist is like, you know, questioning her feelings around gender and like explores it in a lot of different ways. And one of the things I really liked about getting to do this is that getting to explore gender in a world that just isn't ours, Like this isn't like, no one's going to come up in this book spoiler, and no one's going to be like, Hi, I'm she they you know, even though I'm a she

the it was written by SHEI the right. But like, but since gender is a social construct, it's going to be constructed differently in a like medieval fantasy setting, and that's like one of the things that I really want to explore with it, and I hope that folks are able to kind of get out of it.

It is primarily a book that is a you know, high fantasy ya about I mean, honestly, the big metaphor that is in this if you listen to my history podcast, you'll understand that I'm obsessed with like the enclosure of the commons and taking things that are like wild and communal and putting them into the hands of only a few people in a specialized way. And they like how that's empowered capitalism and all those things. Like that's actually the the plot, right, The character and the identity of

the character is that she is transfeminine. The plot of the book is these trees that are dying and what is to be done about it. So if you're like, well, if you hate gender stuff, you're not gonna like this book. But if you're like not specifically looking for a gender book. It doesn't matter. This isn't specifically a gender book. It just happens to be right that as well. It just

happens to have a transfemine protagonist. Yeah, and like other queer people in it too, but it's never At least, the way it read to me was like it seemed perfectly natural. It didn't feel like, I know, there are folks out there who say that we're constantly like shoving it down their throat or whatever, and I mean, I can speak for myself here, but like that's not at

all how the text came across to me. But if you're listening to this and you would like to start a campaign against this book, all publicity is free publicity, and so I will pretend that it's a gender book if I don't know if I actually feel that way, because like part of me is like ha ha ha if I got a list of banned books, like, imagine what they'll do for my career, And then I'm like, it also just sucks because I actually want this book to be available to kids to read.

think people should read it. I know that, like, at least again speaking for myself, if I had gotten to read this book as a kid, my life would have been very different, yeah, and like positive, Yeah, my life would have been really different and I would have figured stuff out a lot sooner.

and that was really well done. Another transfer, I recently got to read the autobiography of Philip, a writer who is this really badass trans writes activist in Ireland, and that was really cool.