his master, Oskit, said from elsewhere in the room.
"Yes, yes. Point taken. Are you going to get that?”
“Get—” The kettle started to whistle over the fire. “Yeah, yeah,” Blailey said,
“Loyalty,” he said, pointing at his assistant.
RachaelElg wrote:
Prelude
Blailey let out a yawn and prodded at the fire (prodded sounds a little odd her--maybe poked would work better and you could take out the last three words in this sentence?) in the hearth with the poker. The wood broke apart and sizzled against the stone and ash. Sparks flew up at the kettle swinging above the flame. The water sloshed inside it.
“My boy… do not let that tea burn,” his master, Oskit, said from elsewhere in the room.
Yawning again, Blailey looked over his shoulder in time to see the old man pull a tray of full of fine, hand-painted porcelain off a shelf and carry it to the table in the center of the room. Once it was safely on the surface, Blailey turned back to the kettle and said, “It’s not tea yet. And it’d probably taste better burnt, you know.”
“Yes, but this is diplomacy.”
Blailey stared at the pot, trying to will it to boil water, somehow, in any way that would make the infamously horrendous Nalmaen tea taste decent. “It’s diplomatic to give ambassadors this to drink?” he asked at last, when staring proved to have no effect.
“That’s your empire you’re insulting, my boy,” Oskit said from somewhere in the direction of the door. Blailey glanced at him from the hearthside in time to see him pull back the curtains and unlatch the tower’s windows. Sunlight, a chill morning sea breeze, a smell of salt, and the sound of crashing waves came rushing into the room.
“We could have done wine.” Blailey watched his master cross the room to the driftwood cabinets and shelves again. The man started to pull jars and baskets off, making faces here and there at the contents.
“Nonsense. It’s the morning still.” Some peaches rolled out of a basket and splatted on the floor. “Well, that’s unfortunate. Do you think they’ll notice if the peaches are missing?” Oskit picked up the now-smashed fruit and threw it out an open window.
Blailey stared at the juicy spot on the stone floor. “Well, I don’t think Nolanee and Master Jea will mind, considering the scope of things,” he said as he turned back to his water boiling duties. He lifted up the lid of the kettle. The water was just beginning to cloud. “It’s not as if we decided to use their Tower, food, and usually there's no comma before an 'and' tea without their knowledge or permission.”
“Yes, yes. Point taken. Are you going to get that?”
“Get—” The kettle started to whistle over the fire. “Yeah, yeah,” Blailey said, and he grabbed('as he grabbed') it off the hanging hook with one of Master Jea’s finely made potholders. After hoisting it up, he carried it over to the table and put it down next to all the tiny porcelain jars, teacups, and saucers. As far as he could tell, Oskit had taken out every single one of Master Jea’s dishes, which was cause for both alarm and awe. Even on the rare occasions when Master Jea and her assistant Nolanee invited them over for a meal, the old woman kept most of her fine dining ware locked away in fear that one of them would break something again.
And in fear that he would incur Jea’s wrath, Blailey picked the lids up off some of the ceramics as cautiously as he could and made sure both his footing and holds were fast before peering inside. The small things contained all sorts of herbs he imagined either of the two East Tower Keepers could tell him all about, from their names to what they did, but to him they all looked the same: green weeds.
“No sugar?” Blailey asked after a while, looking up from the table after repeating the process of pecking off lids and replacing them a few times. He looked around the tower room in search of Master Oskit, but the old man was nowhere in sight—not by the cupboards and cabinets opposite the door, not by the door, not by the hearth that was at the right side of the tower after one came in the door.
The Tower Assistant spent a few moments in confusion, since he had not heard any noise to indicate that Oskit had gone outside. Then, the old man came down the stairs that were opposite the hearth. He had yet another basket in his arms.
“There isn’t any sugar?” Blailey repeated, catching the old man’s gaze.
Oskit dropped the basket to the ground once he reached the floor and then walked over to the table. He took the lids off two huge containers Blailey had not thought to look inside because of just how large—head-sized—they were. One had fine white sugar and the other thick honey.
“My boy,” Oskit said, looking right back at him. “Nolanee, Jea, without sugar and honey?”
Blailey shrugged and the old man shook his head, walking back to his basket.
“What’s that for?”
“I don’t quite know, but it’s best to be prepared. Have you put the leaves in yet?”
Blailey looked down at the kettle on the table and made a face. It would have to be done eventually, though. With one hand, he grabbed a handful of the tealeaves(should be two words) from a container, and with the other hand, he took the lid off the kettle.
“Are you ready?” he asked his master, wrinkling his nose in preparation.
“If I must be.”
Holding his breath, Blailey threw the leaves into the pot. Instantly, a sour smell pervaded, like some sort of vinegar, and after that a sizzling pop. The popping ended soon enough, but the reek lingered, overpowering even the smell of sea salt from outside.
He did his best to continue not breathing as he stared at it, watching until the leaves unfolded, a sign as far as he knew that he could replace the lid. So he did, as quickly as his fingers would let him. Then he took a gasp of air and looked up at his master. The old man’s face was twisted up in disgust, but his blue eyes were still twinkling and that meant he was up to something or other. It always had, and it always would.
“Are we sure they even like tea?” Blailey asked before his master could say anything.
Oskit raised an eyebrow. “Nolanee and Jea? Of course they do. This is their tea.”
“Our guests, Master.”
“Oh, I don’t know.” Oskit walked to the door and put down his basket. “I don’t even know if they like our bread for that matter. But all we need to do is make a good showing of hospitality, I think. I don’t think they’ll mind if we don’t have anything they want. I think.”
“You’re not sure what the most powerful beings in the world like to eat?” That reminded him of something, and he walked over to the counter and picked up a different pot. He hung it over the fire. “After all my work on the stew?”
“Well, I know they don’t eat children. That’s just a Meukuan fisher’s tale.”
“I’m glad.” Blailey walked back over to the table in the center of the room. He sniffed at it, and then cautiously lifted the lid off the teakettle again. The smell of vinegar filled the room again, and it took all he had not to gag on it.
“Don’t keep taking the lid off. Jea will have your hide if she smells it.”
“My hide? It was your idea to use East Tower instead of ours from the outset, and she’s going to get my hide just because I brewed her nasty tealeaves?” Shaking his head, Blailey grabbed a bread roll off the table and shoved it into his mouth. It helped distract him from the odor, which was turning from vinegar to something more akin to urine.
It also helped the calm the growling in his stomach that had been going on for hours now, ever since Oskit had awoken him and informed him that he was going to get to commandeer Jea and Nolanee’s precious East Tower and host the Wraiths of Meuku over a pleasant summer breakfast.
The Wraiths of Meuku. All four of them. At breakfast. In Jea and Nolanee’s Tower.
After minimal chewing, Blailey swallowed the roll and relocated the old man, determined to explain to that old man just how foolish inviting them over to breakfast in their Tower was likely to be. Once he had the man’s attention, though, he found something better to say: “You know, all I have to do is tell Master Jea about your plan and it’ll be your hide that she’ll beat you bloody.”
Oskit glared at him. “Loyalty,” he said, pointing at his assistant. “All I asked from you eleven years ago was a little loyalty, and here you are, about to betray me to Jea. That woman scares me more than anyone I’ve ever met.”
“So why again are we ('tell me again why we're')stealing her Tower?” Blailey grabbed a pinch of salt from one of the bowls and headed back over to the pot to toss it in.
“You don’t keep our Tower clean, Master’s Assistant.”
“You get it dirty and cluttered in the first place, old man.”
“What was that?”
“When are our guests getting here?” Blailey walked to the window by the door and looked out. The ocean consumed almost all of the view. Stretches of nearly white sand, driftwood, and rocks made up the rest.
“Soon. I told them to come at their leisure.”
Blailey looked over his shoulder and scowled. “That could mean anything.”
“My boy, you’ve never met a Wraith before.”
“You’ve(should this be in italics?) never met a Wraith before.”
Oskit paused. “Well, no, not really, but I’m the Master and you’re the Assistant here. And the point is, I don’t think even they know how they spend their day most of the time, but if they’ve got business to tend to, they’re going to accomplish it when it’s most convenient for them. This, fortunately for us, is just before their dawn. Which should be any time now.”
Still scowling, Blailey turned back to the window and leaned up against it in time to see a gull swoop down toward the ocean, only to come back up with a fish. For a moment, he envied Nolanee and Master Jea’s view, until he remembered that all of the gull excrement forced the Tower Keepers to scrub the roof and exterior walls several times a year.
“How will I know when they get here?” Blailey finally asked.
Oskit let out a laugh—a laugh Blailey knew very well. His master had laughed the same way when he had accidentally picked poisoned ivy for an evening meal eight years ago. His master had laughed the same way when a spell had backfired and left him blind for a week five years ago. His master had also laughed the same way when he had first gotten himself thoroughly drunk to his eyeballs. That particular incident, Nolanee told him, had happened some three years ago, but all he remembered about it was the laugh.
Another gull squawked overhead and Blailey glanced up at it. With that one gull was an entire flock of them, and all of them flew out over the water to land on the rocks. One of the birds looked black, almost, but from where he was, he could not really tell.
“I’ll be back in a second,” Blailey said, and with his gaze still set out the window to keep an eye on the black seagull, he stuck out one hand for the door. He opened it and sidestepped toward it. In the end, he only remembered the basket Oskit had put there in front of the entry when he tripped over and landed more or less flat and hard on the floor.
His master started laughing even louder. Blailey swore and then winced as he levered himself up off the stone to his knees. With one foot, he kicked away the basket he had tripped over and with the other, he helped himself stand up, blinking as the stars went through his head. He rubbed his face to get rid of the sting, which may or may not have been from embarrassment instead of the intimate meeting with the floor, but he certainly had his preference.
“You put that there intentionally!” Blailey glared at his master from the doorway.
Oskit turned to him from the hearth. “No no,” the old man said, juggling a peach in his hand. “I just put it there to put it somewhere. But I am most impressed with my own foresight in the matter.”
“Well, thank your foresight.” Wincing again as he brushed himself off, Blailey looked through the open door. He hobbled stiff-kneed outside, shutting the door behind him, and scanned the skies overhead for that black gull he had just seen.
It only took him a second for him to spot it, since it was diving right at him from high up in the air, growing larger as it did. Blailey reached behind him and opened the door, watching the black seagull all the while. He limped and hopped backward out of the wind and sun and into the Tower base room as quickly as he could. But almost as soon as went to shut the door against the now-huge diving gull’s approach, it landed on the sandy ground and transformed into a huge, full-grown man.
Which is why reading about them making tea, as different as the situation may be, isn't particularly exciting.
I'm going to suck at it though because your writing is, like, epic, but hey, I'll see if I can come up with something. You've got some really nice reviews here, so mine won't sound annoyingly repetitive, hopefully. So yeah... onto the review!
The Wraiths of Meuku. All four of them. At breakfast. In Jea and Nolanee’s Tower.
After minimal chewing, Blailey swallowed the roll and relocated the old man, determined to explain to that old man just how foolish inviting them over to breakfast in their Tower was likely to be.
“You know, all I have to do is tell Master Jea about your plan and it’ll be your hide that she’ll beat [strike]you[/strike] bloody.”
His master had laughed the same way when he had accidentally picked poisoned ivy for an evening meal eight years ago. His master had laughed the same way when a spell had backfired and left him blind for a week five years ago. His master had also laughed the same way when he had first gotten himself thoroughly drunk to his eyeballs.
I'm kind of in the middle of it. For now I'll say that maybe you should consider...rewriting it a bit so that it's not so repetitious.
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