For what seemed an eternity, she lay on the beast’s back, watching the gray expanse of sky around them, gazing into the mists.
Great Keeper of the Mists, are you there? She prayed. Great One, please forgive me for the things I’ve done, please, send someone to help me. I’m alone. I need someone! Please.
As she finished her prayer, she looked out to see the form of New Locher growing before her. It went from a small outline of a tree to a large, looming mass of platforms and branches, tiny speckles on the shapes the forms of Fleirzon.
Rosh steered around the upper parts of the tree where the gleaming polished wood of the Vahlein’s houses sat.
He came upon one of these homes, the wide roof beckoning them.
The mullar landed with a mighty bellow, and Rosh slid off, tying it to a railing.
They were in a stable. Inside the covered barn, Verdeyan could hear several other mullars lowing.
He pulled her off the beast’s back, a firm hand on her shoulder steering her into the direction of the stairs. The stable was set into the roof, so that the mullars could be jumped off the ledge of the platform upon which it was built to fly away with their leathery wings.
Verdeyan reflected that Gattlin could have used one for carrying her. Then it occurred to her that he was too poor to even afford one.
With a shove, he sent her down the stairs before him, saying “Be quiet. My wife is probably sleeping.”
At the bottom of the staircase was a large, well furnished parlor, with couches covered in silk pillows, the walls hung with paintings on mullar-skin canvases, and ornate rugs covering the red oak floors.
“Fallon, where are you?” called Rosh, his voice tinged in annoyance.
A fat woman came running from behind a door.
“Oh yes, Master Rosh, of course, sir,” she said.
“Fallon, this is a new slave. Have her dressed to be presentable to my wife when she wakes up from her midday nap.”
“Yes sir,” said Fallon, eyeing Verdeyan curiously.
“Come with me,” said the woman, taking hold of the rope that bound Verdeyan’s hands to lead her into the next room.
She motioned to a stool. “Sit.” With a bone knife, she cut the ropes that bound Verdeyan’s hands. She reached for a smock off a peg on the wall.
“Take off your tunic,” she commanded.
Verdeyan wordlessly obeyed.
“Oh, by the Spirits, you are filthy!”
She threw Verdeyan a rag. “Clean yourself. Master Rosh does not seem to think it, but I have better things to do than see after filthy children he brings me to make into chattel.”
She turned away, busy at the kitchen fire.
Verdeyan tossed away the rag, and put on the smock the woman had indicated.
The fabric was coarse and smelled of lye and itched.
Fallon looked over to see Verdeyan dressed, and threw her a cap.
“Put this on over your hair. It is disrespectful for female servants to show their hair indoors. Don’t you know this? Or were your parents too stupid to teach you?”
“My parents weren’t tyrants or slaveholders,” Verdeyan hissed.
The woman turned around and slapped her in the face.
Verdeyan shuffled back a step. “What!”
“Be respectful!”
“Fine!”
She crossed her arms over her chest, sitting back down on the stool.
And I thought Jonalla was bad, she thought bitterly.
She sat lost in thought for a time until Fallon told her to move.
“Hurry up, don’t keep the Missus waiting,” she said.
Verdeyan felt like grumbling, but didn’t.
They went out into the parlor room.
A woman stood waiting, her long cloak trailing to the floor .
Intricate braids of ebony hair adorned her brow.
Fallon gave Verdeyan a shove, which she was unprepared for, and sent her sprawling on the floor at the woman’s feet.
Rosh appeared in the doorway to the next room.
“Hello, Rosh,” the woman said. He stepped forwards to embrace her.
Verdeyan observed the change in Rosh’s face from the appearance of coldness to one of belonging and joy. Something inside her felt twisted. How could a man who had so little regard for her have so much for someone else?
“I’ve missed you,” he said.
“As have I,” said the woman.
Now, he pointed to Verdeyan.
“Nevra, this girl is for you. I know you’ve wanted another servant, and I found her in Old Locher from a woman for only four hundred fifty blue johls.”
“Ah, wonderful!” Nevra peered down at the girl.
“Stand up. What is your name?” Nevra continued
Verdeyan rose, glaring at Rosh.
“Verdeyan,” she said sullenly.
Nevra smiled. “Isn’t that Nimaencheon?”
No, it’s Sleveten, thought Verdeyan. And why do you care?
She said nothing.
“What do you think, dear?” asked Rosh.
“Oh, she’s fine. Have you seen Tome? Does he know we have a new servant?”
“Yes, of course. I let him know, he’ll see to it that she behaves.”
A man appeared in the doorway behind Rosh. His hard eyes gleamed. In his hand he held a whip.
Verdeyan didn’t realize it, but his face would be one she came to fear.
“You may go, Fallon,” Nevra said.
Tome came forwards, and grabbed her by the arm. She followed him.
…
Gattlin sat, his head between his knees. He’d spent the last night and morning sitting in the hollow of a large oak, just staring into the mist.
He wrapped his cloak around himself tighter, trying to quiet his mind.
I was named for my great grandmother who was killed by a Raptein brave at the age of fifteen!
Verdeyan’s words kept echoing in his head.
Images of his own mother and father flashed on the backs of his eyelids when he blinked. He’d spent the last 48 hours sleepless, as dreams of Verdeyan and his parents kept creeping into his consciousness, drowning him with a crushing sense of grief and guilt.
He took his mullar-bone knife out of its pouch at his belt.
The bone surface was shiny black from the iron that built the animal’s bone structure. He thought of plunging it into his own chest, to end the pain.
Then he was repulsed, a voice in his mind shouting, No! She needs you.
He instead stabbed the tree, and crept farther back into the nook in its branches.
He spread the blanket he’d stuffed into his bag out over himself, and tried to forget about the world that had cursed him with a life of poverty.
.....
Thanks for reading!
~Voxina
Let me know if you have any questions!