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Rose woke slowly, the world shimmering around her. For a moment, she lay on her back, eyes clothes and suddenly, the noise around her hit her eardrums and she startled.
All around her was a flurry of activity, bodies stretching, looking for clothes, yawning, belching, groping, talking. At first, the sounds almost made her dizzy, but like every morning, she got used to it. More than 40 people sleeping in one room make noise unavoidable. It's impossible to get a decent lie-in, but on the other hand, it's also impossible to sleep in.
She rolled off her thin pallet and grabbed her black work dress from the floor beside it. It was clean, since laundry day was only yesterday. She pulled it over her shift and she was done for the day. She dragged her fingers through her short hair and untangled a few knots.
Rose hesitated. Surely it used to take her longer than this to get ready in the morning?
An elbow knocking her squarely in the ribs dislodged the thought and she suppressed the urge to make a rude gesture at Torfi, one of the footmen.
People were starting to make their way towards the sturdy steel door, lining up in front of it. Rose joined them and smiled at Aldis and Asta, the twins. They were almost in their teens, both with bouncing black curls and quick, nervous, dark eyes. They grinned back at her, Aldis showing off the large gap between her front teeth.
Voices quieted as footsteps approached their door from the outside. Rose took a few hasty steps to the left, until she was standing in a clump of other women.
Like she did every morning, she took a deep breath, worried for a second that the door would not open, that they would be kept in here forever.
A memory rose up, unbidden, of great big showers and towers of smoke but she shook it away.
A metallic grind and the great steel structure swung open.
As the guards indicated that each group should follow them, a new day begun.
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Rose was ushered into one of the toilets and quickly sat down and did her business. There were no stalls, simply a row of ten seats next to each other. The seats were metal, cold and smelled strongly of disinfectant, and Rose shivered a little.
She washed her hands and ate a tooth-cleaning pill. A familiar shade of auburn came up next to her and she nodded at Svala.
They both knew better than to speak to each other yet, but Rose raised a questioning eyebrow at the bruise visible on Svala's wrist, bared as her sleeve rode up when she washed her hands.
Svala simply jerked her chin in response. Her wide eyes were calm, almost impassive.
The guards banged their metal staffs on the ground, alerting the women that their time for morning ablutions were over.
Seated in the servant dining hall, at the lowest table, Rose quickly ate the grey bread and greyer gruel provided for her.
Rules were laxer here, so the murmurs of voices rose around her.
"What happened then?" she said, looking across the table at Svala.
"Nothing bad," Svala murmured. Rose resisted the urge to throw her plate at someone and bit her tongue to keep quiet. Svala usually responded better to gentle prompting.
She was right. After a moment, Svala added,
"It was Steinkel. He stopped me on the way to the dining hall. My knees are a bit bruised, that's all."
Rose nodded but before she could say anything, the other woman reached over the table and put her hand over her fingers.
"Don't. It was nothing, truly." Rose saw in Svala's eyes that she believed it.
Rose raised a hand to claw at the itch around her neck.
Too soon, the guards banged their staffs again, and it was time to work.
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Hours later, she was on her knees, using all of her might to scrub the vast stone expanse of the courtyard.
It was dirty, hot work and her shoulders and back ached.
She could feel eyes on her bum as it swayed with her movement, and it rankled her, again, to be watched, guarded, imprisoned.
A large hand closed on her neck, dragging her back until she was sitting on her heels.
Warm breath feathered over her cheek as a mouth leaned towards her ear.
"Watch it, little girl. I don't like your attitude."
The hand pushed her to the ground with more force than necessary and her chin scraped on something sharp. She pushed herself to her knees and bit her lip. She didn't need to look around to see that it was Regin, one of Steinkel's chums, who'd blessed her with his company.
Rose's fists clenched and she reminded herself that rebellion really, really wasn't worth the punishment. With a sigh, she reached for her abandoned scrub brush and resumed her work.
Hot air filled with sand blew in over the open space, sticking to the wet patches of the courtyard, ruining their labor.
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It was nearing sunset and Rose and Svala were polishing windows. For once, no guards were watching them. In smaller numbers, they were not deemed dangerous enough to demand constant attention.
Besides, everyone working in Ozur House knew the price of not finishing their assigned tasks.
It had been an ordinary day, as days were. Work alternated during weekdays, following a strict schedule. Some days were easier than others. Once a week, they did laundry and washed their bodies. Other days, they made do with the sinks in the lavatories.
There were always around 40 slaves in the house, any less and the work was too much to manage, no matter how hard they were driven. The 40 alternated. Some died. Others were sold. A select few were freed.
It was all Rose had ever known. All she could remember was life in Ozur House. A vague, hazy, dusty life, stretching endlessly backwards and forwards, everyday the same. No adventures for her. Slaves didn't have adventures.
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