The trek across the desert had been long and tedious. Everybody was
relieved to see a hazy outline of the last solitary house on the darkening
horizon. This place of refuge, owned by the guild, was to be the closest to
the city. From here, it was only one long day of hiking to the outskirts of
Greth. Lyra, trudging at the end of the train with most of the other
slaves, didn't keep her face up for long to gawp at the small stone towers.
The sand was in her eyes, and even her tightly secured veil couldn't keep
the wind from blowing it into her nose and mouth. Her thin, loose hair was
a mess and thin tendrils that weren't being thrashed about by the wind were
plastered on her face and neck with perspiration. Sand had even slipped
under her iron collar, and was rubbing the pale skin raw.
The others were all miserable as well, past the point of wanting to complain. Why anyone would live in this desert was beyond Lyra's imagination. Before they became too tired and thirsty to speak, the children had been exchanging horror stories of the humans that lived in this bleak, wind- scarred expanse. They mostly all ended with the desert people being flayed from the constant sand whipping around in the air, though Lyra had them all silent for awhile with a little tale of blind mole-like mutants that swam though the dunes as if it was water, and came up under a traveler and held them below till they suffocated.
Though, when the train reached the last solitary without meeting any mole-people, the children would almost have been disappointed, if not for the prospect of retuning home soon. They had been led the farthest any of them had ever been away from Greth, and it didn't help that they traveled this desert under the particularly windiest months. To get to Jahileh, all travelers must cross the un-named desert.
Paquet, head tall at the head of the small train, had dismounted and walked up the several stone steps before stopping at the high wooden door. As the end of the train caught up, they stood waiting quietly, and gazed at the squat towers. They only stood about six stories high, with a small crawling space under the iron shingled roof. There were roughly three dozen different spells draped in every corner, to protect against immortals. Once inside the first tower, you could get to the other two by means of underground tunnels, but since there weren't that many of them there this time, only the main building would be used. With a flick of her wrist, Paquet unlocked the heavy doors. Three slaves rushed in first and light torches and lamps. People hefted packs onto their shoulders again, and filed in slowly.
After they had taken care of all their masters, the slaves had a chance to pick out rooms for themselves on the fourth and fifth floors. They all hurried to get rooms with their friends, the excitement lifting some of everybody's weary and sore muscles.
A few years ago, on this same trip, Lyra had roomed with some of her close friends on the fourth floor; Jaro, Kath, Digit, and the rest. This time, as she rounded the steps to the fifth floor with Misao pulling her along, she realized she didn't even know if Jaro and Digit had even come this time around. She started wondering about finding somebody before she caught herself. Lyra wasn't one to brood about old friends. Ever. Of all things to think of!
"They don't know my name. I have new people now," she found herself murmuring to nobody in particular. Admits the excited chattering of the children, it was hard for Misao to pick out her words, but after a few more frowning looks from her friend, she tried shaking Lyra, as if she were asleep. Lyra kept her eyes forward and walked with robotic movements. Why was Misao pushing her? This was no time to be playing around.
"It's just the sun fever." A raspy voice noted from below Lyra. It was Hlao, walking behind them on the stairs. He had his head at an angle to see around the two bags he was carrying.
"Jet is down with it too, fourth flour. You'll want to lie her down and keep her cool. There's not much you can do otherwise."
"Thanks." Misao look uncertainly at Lyra while she took one of his bags. They started walking again when others below them started yelling with impatience. When they got upstairs, she handed it back before he disappeared into the first room. Misao ushered the dazed girl into another low-ceilinged room that was soon crowded with other girls. One of them, Ayn, already had her bedroll out and was saving two spots for them. She stepped nimblely across the room to gather Lyra's pack for her, as she was looking decidedly worse. Her eyes drifted without purpose.
"Hlao says it's the sun fever," Misao said slowly, and helped her down to lie on Ayn's blanket. Lyra was off thinking about the stones that made up the ceiling now, and wondered why they looked twice as many as last time. Perhaps they would open up and she could see if it was a full moon.
The little water Misao begged off of the other girls only wet a cloth enough to wipe the grime from Lyra's face and neck. They were all dirty and covered in sand, but used to it mostly by now, and too tired to care. Lyra felt her hair being brushed to the side of her face before falling asleep.
* * *
The morning sun was nowhere to be seen out the narrow little window. All the slaves were up before dawn, getting ready for work. As Misao went downstairs to care for her mistress, Ayn was the one to wake Lyra up.
"I hope you're feeling better," she said glumly.
Lyra shook her head as she rubbed her sore legs. "Don't worry, you wont have to pull double duty for me. I'll be fine, if you care."
"I never-It's not me that wouldn't give a rat's tail. Regean is already up, two doors down, and acting more queenly than ever. You can bet she wont care," Ayn sniffed out as she tossed a brush to the still sitting Lyra.
Even though her head still swam, Lyra got up and folded her blankets.
"Thanks, then." she grumbled. Ayn understood.
The doors were open all down the hall, and there were children and teens running back and forth to get ready in less than ten minutes of when they got up. This seemed the most hectic time of day, but there was a fine pattern to it all. The motions were practiced and brisk. After tying up her bedroll, Lyra dipped a moderately clean towel into the bowl of cold water being passed around. She wiped her face and shoulders before twisting her long dirty blond hair into a tight bun. Her only other set of clothes were clean; apparently someone had volunteered to do laundry the night before. She slipped on the cotton tunic and put back on the small leather bond-bag around her shoulders. It was depressingly light.
Downstairs found Lyra working in the kitchens. The whole place bustled with activity, and people worked around each other automatically. Being one of the older ones, Lyra sent off four boys to set places. She herself wiped off tables that had months of dust and grime settled on them.
Regean stood by the hearth with eyes gleaming. Her arms were crossed and a maroon bandana was tied across her forehead, to keep the black bangs from getting in her eyes. She stayed in here because it was cooler that the kitchen, but she could still tell if anybody wasn't working.
"Heard tell you was sick last night." She struck up a conversation, letting her pause for a minute or two. Lyra stopped with the now murky water bowl rested on her hip, and gave a curt nod. She eyed the bondbag around Regean's shoulders. It looked pretty full. Would they be seeing the last of her soon?
"I bet Marjo you'd still be out today. Lost three gold crowns on you."
Not a chance. The way this slave threw money around, she could be as poor as dirt one second, and another practically richer that her own master.
"Jet, you know 'im? He's still out; asleep like a dead rat up there." Regean continued as she sank onto a bench and swung her legs up too. She was obviously feeling kindly towards Lyra, who wasn't even a friend of her's. I can't just stand here and nod at whatever she says. Lyra thought, eyes rounding slightly.
"Oh yes, I know Jet. He swore this trip would be the death of him, and I suppose this his last chance." That was a lie, Lyra had never spoken with this other boy, but what did that matter?
Apparently it did. Regean cracked a wide grin and moved to sit up on the table itself. She bent closer to Lyra with interest.
"That bag looks pretty empty."
"Maybe that's because it is. Now, if you could excuse me, some of us have work." She turned to leave, but not before seeing a wide smile plastered on Regean's face. The sarcasm hadn't stirred her at all from her high horse. That was just Regean. Lyra stalked back into the kitchen feeling eyes on her the entire time.
Pretty soon the whole house was awake, and breakfast was served. Misao found Lyra and sat with her at the oak tables the kids crowed around. To the left there were high tables the slaves weren't allowed to sit at. Paquet sat silently at the middle, not the head, as the people around her argued over a map and some scrolls. By that afternoon everybody would know that overnight there had been omens of immortals coming this way. Paquet hadn't said how long they would be staying here. What leader would take her people out to face monsters in the windy desert? But everybody was anxious to get home with the bounty, and they were short on rations. These were the decisions that plagued the daughter of the Guild Lord.
A motion at her right tore Lyra's watch away from the high table. Some boys stood to leave, though they hadn't finished eating. She and Misao had gotten here after them. But they only moved down a few seats before sitting again. In there places, appeared Regean, surrounded by six or so of her friends. The blond one, Marjo, was the first to sit, and casually picked up a forkful of rice, and started eating. She nodded towards Lyra and Misao, with her mouth full. Regean sat across from her, like always, and before Lyra wondered if she should move to make room, the others settled down comfortably.
It was amazing to Lyra how the girl could pull off that attitude with the iron collar around her neck. She wore it more like a crown than an uncomfortable reminder of their lack of freedom. With a smirk she also started eating, as if they did this everyday. Lyra looked at Misao, who looked at Ayn, and back at Marjo, who she sat next to.
The others were all miserable as well, past the point of wanting to complain. Why anyone would live in this desert was beyond Lyra's imagination. Before they became too tired and thirsty to speak, the children had been exchanging horror stories of the humans that lived in this bleak, wind- scarred expanse. They mostly all ended with the desert people being flayed from the constant sand whipping around in the air, though Lyra had them all silent for awhile with a little tale of blind mole-like mutants that swam though the dunes as if it was water, and came up under a traveler and held them below till they suffocated.
Though, when the train reached the last solitary without meeting any mole-people, the children would almost have been disappointed, if not for the prospect of retuning home soon. They had been led the farthest any of them had ever been away from Greth, and it didn't help that they traveled this desert under the particularly windiest months. To get to Jahileh, all travelers must cross the un-named desert.
Paquet, head tall at the head of the small train, had dismounted and walked up the several stone steps before stopping at the high wooden door. As the end of the train caught up, they stood waiting quietly, and gazed at the squat towers. They only stood about six stories high, with a small crawling space under the iron shingled roof. There were roughly three dozen different spells draped in every corner, to protect against immortals. Once inside the first tower, you could get to the other two by means of underground tunnels, but since there weren't that many of them there this time, only the main building would be used. With a flick of her wrist, Paquet unlocked the heavy doors. Three slaves rushed in first and light torches and lamps. People hefted packs onto their shoulders again, and filed in slowly.
After they had taken care of all their masters, the slaves had a chance to pick out rooms for themselves on the fourth and fifth floors. They all hurried to get rooms with their friends, the excitement lifting some of everybody's weary and sore muscles.
A few years ago, on this same trip, Lyra had roomed with some of her close friends on the fourth floor; Jaro, Kath, Digit, and the rest. This time, as she rounded the steps to the fifth floor with Misao pulling her along, she realized she didn't even know if Jaro and Digit had even come this time around. She started wondering about finding somebody before she caught herself. Lyra wasn't one to brood about old friends. Ever. Of all things to think of!
"They don't know my name. I have new people now," she found herself murmuring to nobody in particular. Admits the excited chattering of the children, it was hard for Misao to pick out her words, but after a few more frowning looks from her friend, she tried shaking Lyra, as if she were asleep. Lyra kept her eyes forward and walked with robotic movements. Why was Misao pushing her? This was no time to be playing around.
"It's just the sun fever." A raspy voice noted from below Lyra. It was Hlao, walking behind them on the stairs. He had his head at an angle to see around the two bags he was carrying.
"Jet is down with it too, fourth flour. You'll want to lie her down and keep her cool. There's not much you can do otherwise."
"Thanks." Misao look uncertainly at Lyra while she took one of his bags. They started walking again when others below them started yelling with impatience. When they got upstairs, she handed it back before he disappeared into the first room. Misao ushered the dazed girl into another low-ceilinged room that was soon crowded with other girls. One of them, Ayn, already had her bedroll out and was saving two spots for them. She stepped nimblely across the room to gather Lyra's pack for her, as she was looking decidedly worse. Her eyes drifted without purpose.
"Hlao says it's the sun fever," Misao said slowly, and helped her down to lie on Ayn's blanket. Lyra was off thinking about the stones that made up the ceiling now, and wondered why they looked twice as many as last time. Perhaps they would open up and she could see if it was a full moon.
The little water Misao begged off of the other girls only wet a cloth enough to wipe the grime from Lyra's face and neck. They were all dirty and covered in sand, but used to it mostly by now, and too tired to care. Lyra felt her hair being brushed to the side of her face before falling asleep.
* * *
The morning sun was nowhere to be seen out the narrow little window. All the slaves were up before dawn, getting ready for work. As Misao went downstairs to care for her mistress, Ayn was the one to wake Lyra up.
"I hope you're feeling better," she said glumly.
Lyra shook her head as she rubbed her sore legs. "Don't worry, you wont have to pull double duty for me. I'll be fine, if you care."
"I never-It's not me that wouldn't give a rat's tail. Regean is already up, two doors down, and acting more queenly than ever. You can bet she wont care," Ayn sniffed out as she tossed a brush to the still sitting Lyra.
Even though her head still swam, Lyra got up and folded her blankets.
"Thanks, then." she grumbled. Ayn understood.
The doors were open all down the hall, and there were children and teens running back and forth to get ready in less than ten minutes of when they got up. This seemed the most hectic time of day, but there was a fine pattern to it all. The motions were practiced and brisk. After tying up her bedroll, Lyra dipped a moderately clean towel into the bowl of cold water being passed around. She wiped her face and shoulders before twisting her long dirty blond hair into a tight bun. Her only other set of clothes were clean; apparently someone had volunteered to do laundry the night before. She slipped on the cotton tunic and put back on the small leather bond-bag around her shoulders. It was depressingly light.
Downstairs found Lyra working in the kitchens. The whole place bustled with activity, and people worked around each other automatically. Being one of the older ones, Lyra sent off four boys to set places. She herself wiped off tables that had months of dust and grime settled on them.
Regean stood by the hearth with eyes gleaming. Her arms were crossed and a maroon bandana was tied across her forehead, to keep the black bangs from getting in her eyes. She stayed in here because it was cooler that the kitchen, but she could still tell if anybody wasn't working.
"Heard tell you was sick last night." She struck up a conversation, letting her pause for a minute or two. Lyra stopped with the now murky water bowl rested on her hip, and gave a curt nod. She eyed the bondbag around Regean's shoulders. It looked pretty full. Would they be seeing the last of her soon?
"I bet Marjo you'd still be out today. Lost three gold crowns on you."
Not a chance. The way this slave threw money around, she could be as poor as dirt one second, and another practically richer that her own master.
"Jet, you know 'im? He's still out; asleep like a dead rat up there." Regean continued as she sank onto a bench and swung her legs up too. She was obviously feeling kindly towards Lyra, who wasn't even a friend of her's. I can't just stand here and nod at whatever she says. Lyra thought, eyes rounding slightly.
"Oh yes, I know Jet. He swore this trip would be the death of him, and I suppose this his last chance." That was a lie, Lyra had never spoken with this other boy, but what did that matter?
Apparently it did. Regean cracked a wide grin and moved to sit up on the table itself. She bent closer to Lyra with interest.
"That bag looks pretty empty."
"Maybe that's because it is. Now, if you could excuse me, some of us have work." She turned to leave, but not before seeing a wide smile plastered on Regean's face. The sarcasm hadn't stirred her at all from her high horse. That was just Regean. Lyra stalked back into the kitchen feeling eyes on her the entire time.
Pretty soon the whole house was awake, and breakfast was served. Misao found Lyra and sat with her at the oak tables the kids crowed around. To the left there were high tables the slaves weren't allowed to sit at. Paquet sat silently at the middle, not the head, as the people around her argued over a map and some scrolls. By that afternoon everybody would know that overnight there had been omens of immortals coming this way. Paquet hadn't said how long they would be staying here. What leader would take her people out to face monsters in the windy desert? But everybody was anxious to get home with the bounty, and they were short on rations. These were the decisions that plagued the daughter of the Guild Lord.
A motion at her right tore Lyra's watch away from the high table. Some boys stood to leave, though they hadn't finished eating. She and Misao had gotten here after them. But they only moved down a few seats before sitting again. In there places, appeared Regean, surrounded by six or so of her friends. The blond one, Marjo, was the first to sit, and casually picked up a forkful of rice, and started eating. She nodded towards Lyra and Misao, with her mouth full. Regean sat across from her, like always, and before Lyra wondered if she should move to make room, the others settled down comfortably.
It was amazing to Lyra how the girl could pull off that attitude with the iron collar around her neck. She wore it more like a crown than an uncomfortable reminder of their lack of freedom. With a smirk she also started eating, as if they did this everyday. Lyra looked at Misao, who looked at Ayn, and back at Marjo, who she sat next to.