8th of Sun's Dusk
The clergy had no trouble getting Sal-Gheel out of bed the next morning. He practically sprang out on his own and got dressed. His sunny enthusiasm seemed nigh-uncontainable. He acted rather animated and chatty during breakfast. Almost to the point of neglecting it. After bathing and grooming himself, everyone gathered at the chapel doors.
"A baker's apprentice!" Sirimgeira gushed, hands to her face and blushing. "What an opportunity this is for you, Sal-Gheel! Oh, I'm all of a dither!"
"I don't think we need to tell you to be on your best behavior," Valutinian leaned down to the hatchling's eye level. "Don't be afraid to ask questions if you need help. If Jakino asks for your input, give him your honest opinion."
"Anything happens, you can come straight back here," Heinoke smoothed out the creases in the hatchling's shirt.
"Will all of you be here?" Sal-Gheel asked as he knelt to tie his shoelaces.
"Mathnude and I will be until about…" Bovkianne turned to her fellow Breton. "...mid-afternoon."
"We probably won't see you until tonight," Mathnude nodded in agreement. "We'll head out to the Nibenay Valley to help set up for-"
"-the Moon Festival!" Sal-Gheel's eyes twinkled like starlight. Bovkianne chuckled and ruffled his feathers, eliciting a giggle from him.
"You're going to do a great job, Sal-Gheel." Romarcella brushed lingering dust from his forehead horns.
"Have a wonderful time!" Aravayana hugged him tight. He laughed and returned in kind. "We want to hear every single detail!"
The Breadsmith
Valutinian and Sirimgeira walked him to the Breadsmith. He still stared down at his feet as they passed the Lucky Old Lady's former dais. But otherwise, he retained his cheery disposition. They reached the bakery in record time.
Ding, ding!
"Sal-Gheel!" Jakino sprang straight up from behind the counter in response to the doorbell.
He too had an enthusiastic temperament about himself. "Come on in! I'll be right there…" He circled around the L-shape to meet the hatchling.
"Good morning, Jakino!" Sal-Gheel greeted him.
"Same to you, kid," Jakino patted him on the shoulder. "Good to see you." He shook hands and exchanged greetings with the two clerics.
"We'll all be at the church if you need us," Valutinian pointed a thumb over his shoulder. "Mathnude and Bovkianne will leave before sunset to help prepare for the Moon Festival." Jakino nodded in understanding.
"How I wish we could stay and watch Sal-Gheel learn from you, Mr. Statori," Sirimgeira clasped her hands daintily at her waist. "But there's chores to be done before we take off for the festivities."
"Don't worry, Priestess," Jakino turned Sal-Gheel around to face them. He put his hands on the hatchling's shoulders. The baker wore a reassuring smile. "Kid's in good hands with me."
Valutinian and Sirimgeira both hugged and kissed Sal-Gheel, then left.
Jakino hurried back behind his counter. "Come here. Lemme show you what I've got." Sal-Gheel crossed to his side.
"Totally different perspective from back here, ain't it?" Jakino couldn't help but laugh. The hatchling's smaller stature hindered him from seeing over the countertop. "Here, put this on."
He tossed him a spare apron. Sal-Gheel slipped it over his body. But its greater size dwarfed his childlike frame.
"Um, Jakino?" Jakino wheeled around and snickered.
"Don't worry, you'll grow into it. Just didn't want to ruin those nice clothes of yours, is all." He took a few seconds to help him tie and knot the apron strings.
"So you already know what the back of the counter looks like." He gestured to the rows and stacks of various doughy bread and sweet pastries. Sal-Gheel followed along, licking his lips. Jakino snorted and went on.
"Up here's the oven." He opened it to reveal stacks of logs and scraps of paper and parchment inside. A gentle but growing amber-golden fire danced inside of its charcoal-colored, semicircular stone heart.
"And this is your paddle?" Sal-Gheel pulled the wooden paddle out of a thin, rectangular, horizontal stone slot beneath the oven.
"Aye," Jakino nodded and chuckled. "That's how I get the bread in and out of the oven. Now, down below here is…"
He knelt to open a cupboard beneath the oven. "...where I keep all my tools and everything." Inside the shadowy cupboard, Sal-Gheel could see heaps of mixing bowls, whisks, dining utensils, and various other things.
"Ones at the top are where I keep all my small ingredients." He likewise motioned to the perpendicular row of cabinets right of the oven. Another long counter extended beneath them.
"What's back there?" Sal-Gheel pointed at two separate doors directly behind him.
"Left one is storage," Jakino stood up. "Right one is my bedroom."
Sal-Gheel drew in a deep breath, held it for a moment, then exhaled. He fidgeted and wrung his wrists.
"What's wrong, Sal?" Jakino dropped to a crouch beside the hatchling, who turned to face him.
"I…" Sal-Gheel gulped. "I'm kinda nervous….about…being your…apprentice." He stared at the floor. Eyes drooped and brow furrowed. "What if I mess up? What if I'm not good or smart or fast enough? What if I make mistakes?"
His words picked up speed. "I-I don't wanna make mistakes…"
He clutched the sides of his head. Jakino's heart jolted. He gasped in surprise and withdrew.
"Sal…" His hands hovered over the hatchling's shoulders. "Gonna put my hands on you, okay?"
The hatchling whimpered a bit but nodded. He relaxed under Jakino's gentle touch.
"Want you to know something, Sal-Gheel. I don't expect perfection from you."
He put his hands on Sal-Gheel's cheeks. The hatchling did not flinch or recoil from his touch. "First day doing this, you're gonna slip up and make mistakes. That's part of learning. But you won't be alone. Just wanted you to know that."
The hatchling bit his lip and grimaced. Jakino rubbed his thumbs on his cheeks.
"I'll help you all the way. Yeah?"
Sal-Gheel managed a reassured smile. "Yeah."
Jakino nodded and offered his hands for a high-five. "Let's do this." Sal-Gheel high-fived him, his countenance and demeanor brightening.
"First things first: we need a new bag of flour."
In the four-walled storage room, bags of flour and yeast, and boxes of many other ingredients, stacked halfway to the low ceiling. Jakino wrenched a bag towards him. Sal-Gheel rushed up to catch it before it hit the floor.
Jakino moved to help him. But Sal-Gheel had already hefted it over one shoulder.
"It weighs at least fifty pounds! Do you need help?!" Jakino half-panicked as the hatchling walked back into the bakery.
"No, thank you, I've got it!" he called back, keeping one hand on the top of the bag. Jakino watched agape. He forced himself to shake his head, then grabbed a bag of leavening before closing the room.
From the cupboards he fetched two mixing bowls. Fresh ground and sifted wheat flour filled them. Then inside went water and leavening.
"Now use the heel of your hand, smoosh in the dough, and mash it around."
At the counter below the cupboards, Sal-Gheel stood upon his chair. Restrained and mindful hands relished the cool dough mooshing beneath his palms, embracing it as he often embraced the clergy. Watching in awe as the rough dough soon became smooth, even bouncy beneath his hands. Like magic.
"Look, Jakino!" He showed his hands to the baker, coated fingertips to heels.
"Look at you go, Sal!" Jakino couldn't help but laugh out loud. "We'll make a 'breadsmith' out of you yet!"
He patted and slapped the layers down. Then rolled the mixture underneath his palms into a ball. Slowly but surely, it formed into a rough loaf of bread.
"Grasp the bread, Sal. Firmly squeeze it. Let its soft skin fill your fingers. Then stroke."
He stroked to smooth out any creases in his raw loaf, forming it into its well-known pointed shape. Afterwards, the two washed their hands in a water basin. Sal-Gheel let the excess flour fall into a third bowl; they would later be combined to make more bread.
Metal shovel in hand, Jakino pulled the oven open, other hand flying up to shield himself from the heat.
"May I help?" Sal-Gheel carried his chair over and climbed onto it.
"If you can take the heat, sure," Jakino placed a square metal box on the counter. He scooped and pulled out heaps of ashes and dust using the shovel. Sal-Gheel, meanwhile, gathered them using his bare hands.
Jakino's heart jolted. He almost moved to stop the hatchling. In his peripheral vision, Sal-Gheel seemed to notice-and stopped.
Why am I using my bare hands? Should I use the shovel instead? But what if Jakino doesn't have a spare one? If I take his shovel, he'll have to use his bare hands! He'll burn himself! And why am I not being burned? And why am I overthinking this?!
He scrunched up. Eyes closed for an instant.
"Ah…ahh...ahhh…Ah-chooo!"
Twin orange-golden flames jetted straight out from his nostrils. Ashes burst in all directions around him. A fresh fire roared to life in the oven. Exuberant, chaotic, and downright sweltering. Awaiting bread.
"Oh, xuth!" Sal-Gheel swore and scrambled to gather up all the ashes he'd thrown everywhere. "I'm so sorry, Jakino!"
Much to his astonishment, Jakino did not react. Instead, he glanced between the oven, alight with growing flames consuming wood and paper, and the hatchling. Then back again.
He knelt to put a hand on Sal-Gheel's shoulder. His gaze was soft, eyebrows low.
"You're all good, kid. Didn't do nothing wrong. Easy cleanup. No worries, aye? Why don't you go fetch our bread?"
Sal-Gheel ran the back of his hand across his brow. Jakino fetched a broom and dustpan from the storage closet.
As Sal-Gheel leaped from his chair to retrieve the bread, Jakino watched after him. He took one last gaze deep into the flaming oven.
"Sal-Gheel…you are something else."
Sal-Gheel hopped back onto his perch. Jakino placed his dough upon his paddle. Though Sal-Gheel had already slipped his bare hands inside. Right into the heart of the raging, blistering, disorderly fire.
The tongues seemed to wave at his entrance. Welcoming. Embracing. Saluting him.
He giggled as the loaf slipped from his fingers. It sat bathed in the glowing blaze.
The moment he withdrew from the oven, Jakino took his hands. Thumbs stroked his scaly palms, fingers, and dorsals. He inspected the hatchling's arms from wrists to elbows and shoulders.
The two locked eyes. His fixed, widening, and unblinking; the other focused with raised brows.
"So it's true…What the whole town said about you…How you survived that burning building during the riots…"
Sal-Gheel's jaw only dropped. Words would not come. He only stammered in confounded silence-
Ding, ding!
The doorbell jerked them both back to reality. Jakino took his place at the shop counter. Sal-Gheel hopped to the floor. Well out of sight of the incoming customers.
"Var an khaja, Jakino Statori!" The voice of Ayiheh Tavakani.
"Jobal kha'jay!" And Shurassa, no doubt.
"Rik vara, Jakino?" Ayiheh was asking. "You've already started baking for the Festival? You must have an awful lot to prepare, ahziss trevan!"
"Aye," Jakino replied in the affirmative. "But I ain't preparing alone."
"Wait a minute…" Shurassa's voice trailed off. "Why is one of your tables missing a chair-?"
Squeeeak! A chair noisily scraped across the floor as if in answer. A few seconds later, Sal-Gheel poked his head over the counter. "Hi!" he chirped.
"Mor kha'jay! What are you doing here?!" Ayiheh demanded. He bent down to glare at the hatchling, eyes narrowing in scrutiny.
"You're not supposed to be in here, you shoplifting little street urchin!" Shurassa vociferated, almost spitting everywhere. "Jaji vaba sheggori! You were supposed to have burned to death in that blazing building!" Sal-Gheel stood his ground.
"This 'street urchin'," Jakino made air quotes, sarcastic and deadpan. "is my new apprentice. Just started today." He put his hands on his hips. Chest puffed out in bold determination. "Won't approve of either of you talking smack about Sal-Gheel."
"Sal-Gheel!" Shurassa scoffed and shook her head. "So that's his name? Wafa hasaa! What a stupid name, if you ask Shurassa!"
"It's my Hist-given name and I'm proud of it!" Sal-Gheel argued back. He hadn't thought the statement through. "Sep'm Sal-Gheel Calidaseer!" Eyes locked on the Khajiit couple, pupils narrowing into thin slits, following their every move.
"Your 'apprentice'?" Ayiheh glared at the baker and repeated the word in emphatic derision. "You waited a blasted seven whole months to apologize to this young ruffian? Better that you had let him starve on the streets, Jakino, jat!"
"I made my choices!" Jakino shook a reprimanding finger. "Time for you to make yours for a change!"
Sal-Gheel scowled back at the Khajiit, looking quite offended. Shurassa chuckled and also bent down.
"So, Sal-Gheel Calidaseer. Shurassa knew you wouldn't have drowned when she threw you into the Larsius. But tell her: are you planning to shoplift more of Jakino's precious bread behind his back?"
"Are you still holding that over my head?" Sal-Gheel shot back, unintimidated. "That was seven months ago! I'm not stealing from him ever again!"
"Is that so?" Shurassa's lips pulled into a taunting smirk. "And in Rajhin's name why not?"
"Because I'm better now!" Now Sal-Gheel put his hands on his hips. "Xhu, sep'm! The clergy of Mara took me in, and I've never had to steal again since!"
"'Course, if it's the bread he makes with his own hands," Jakino cut in. "Kid can shoplift those ones all he likes."
"Ziss!" Ayiheh straightened up and glowered down at the hatchling. "You're lucky you're still alive, Sal-Gheel. Like Shurassa said, you should've burned to death during the riots. Would have been a waste of you; not all that precious Skooma! And you would've deserved it for what you did to Statori!"
"Well, I didn't, did I?" Sal-Gheel hissed at the male Khajiit. For a full second, his eyes glowed golden before returning to normal. "And who cares about Skooma, anyway?"
"Why?" Shurassa's eyes narrowed. "Why didn't you burn?" Her voice had dropped to a scathing whisper.
"I don't know," Sal-Gheel growled back. "I just don't burn, and that's that!" He gestured to the stacks. "Now what kind of bread do you want?"
"Don't change the subject," Shurassa jabbed at him. But Sal-Gheel didn't flinch. "You're not as special as you think you are, sakhliit."
"Yes, I am!" Sal-Gheel half-yelled back. His eyes glowed again. Small tongues of flame flared in his nostrils. "One day you'll feel sorry you said that to me, tzilnech!"
"Watch how you speak to Ayiheh's rotot!" Ayiheh sprinted around the counter. "Vulgar sakhliit!" Shurassa folded her arms and watched wearing a judging smirk.
"Hey!" Jakino stepped backwards to intercept him. "Stop! You're not allowed to come on this side of the counter!"
Ayiheh lunged straight at Sal-Gheel. But Jakino caught him at the very last second.
"Yava izra ahziss!" Ayiheh hissed and shoved Jakino away.
"Oomph!" The baker slumped onto the counter.
"Jakino!" Sal-Gheel cried out. He backed away at the Khajiit's approach.
"I'm going to toss you into the Larsius this time!" Ayiheh made to grab him, paws flying in every direction.
But Sal-Gheel scrambled from the edge to the seat of the chair. Hopped up onto the backrest. Then his shoulders ("Aagh! Gettoff! Yowch!"). Springing into a backflip onto the backrest. Balancing on one foot. The other perched horizontal atop his unbent knee.
Ayiheh pounced to claw at him-
"Don't touch me!"
A brilliant golden glow illuminated his bloodstream. Head to toes to tail. Brighter than candlelight in evening shadows. More blazing than the fire in the oven. Beyond brighter than the sun itself. His pupils, too, amber-golden like monstrous forest wildfires.
Ayiheh fell forward onto the seat; jaw dropped, his eyes wider than coins, and laboring for breath. Jakino stared awestruck at him. Shurassa gasped and clapped her paws to her mouth.
"Ayiheh!" Jakino rebuked the male Khajiit. "Get away from my apprentice!"
Grumbling but still confounded, Ayiheh stood up straight. He walked at a defeated pace to his former spot.
"And-and what about the Sharri Tarmo Iiliten?" He seethed, trying to return to the previous conversation. But he sounded shaky, almost insecure, still in aback disbelief at what had just transpired. He planted his paws on the counter to glare with clenched teeth. "You should've been roped and torn down like her, too! Or died in that old underground tomb with all those intruders!"
"Face it, Sal-Gheel or whatever you call yourself!" Shurassa practically frothed at the mouth. "You're the cause of everything that's wrong with this city! You are a parasite!"
"Don't listen to them, Sal." Jakino held out a hand to comfort the hatchling. "They're trying to provoke you."
Sal-Gheel said nothing, only breathing in and out. Hands clenched into tight fists. Eyes glowed fiery gold. Gaze lowered. Brow low. Lips curled inwards and opened in a threatening fanged snarl. He dropped back onto the chair. His eyes and bloodstream faded out.
"Mighty injudicious of you, Statori!" Shurassa now shot at the baker. "Taking for an apprentice this…this…" An accusing finger shook in Sal-Gheel's direction. "Guttersnipe!"
"Guttersnipe?!" Sal-Gheel repeated, equal parts insulted and confused. He stepped back onto the seat of the chair.
"Will you please make your selections and go?" Jakino asked. Sal-Gheel could sense he was trying his hardest to be polite. "We're very busy, Sal-Gheel and I."
"Oh, you and Sal-Gheel, eh?" Ayiheh burst out in callous laughter. "You don't want to keep this Sal-Gheel! Jan vaba var gurosh! He is a living, walking, breathing poison!" He pointed a claw of accusation at the hatchling, who withdrew from it. "You want nothing to do with this…waif!"
"W-what…?" Sal-Gheel shuddered at the word. "Oof!" He slipped and fell flat on his rear.
"That's it." Jakino slammed his palms on his counter. The Khajiit flinched at the sound. "Only gonna say this once. Choose your bread, gimme your coin…and get the hell outta my damn bakery!"
"Jakino Statori, you wafiit!" Shurassa jeered. "That boy-" she bared her claws at Sal-Gheel, who shrank beneath them. "-will be a detriment to your business! He'll rob you blind of bread while you sleep! He'll drain your coffers dry of every last coin!" Her paw quivered for emphasis. "He'll…he'll…swipe all your mixing bowls and hide them under his bed! Just you wait and see!"
"And what proof do you have of that?" Jakino folded his arms over his chest.
"Dariit can't resist the compulsion, can they?" Shurassa debated, arms spread wide for emphasis. "If he stole once, he'll steal again! Who's next, the Fair Deal? Fighter's Guild? Archer's Paradox? He needs to be reformed!"
"I disagree," Jakino retorted, holding a surprisingly calm composure, though Sal-Gheel could sense the subdued anger in his tone. "Ain't nothing wrong; not anymore. The Mara clergy did right taking him in."
"Well, we won't come shop here anymore for our bread if you keep a sakhliit as an apprentice!" Ayiheh stormed up to him.
"Then take what's yours and get outta my sight, dammit!" Jakino roared back.
"Nuuh txeetli, thtachalxan!" Sal-Gheel barked.
"Shurassa demands to speak to the manager!" The posturing Shurassa pointed a claw into the air.
"Why, you arrogant, half-brained, mangy cat!" Jakino's eyes flared. "I am the manager! And I demand that you get your filthy tongues outta my bakery!"
Cursing in their native language, they paid for their selections and stomped out the door.
"You've lost your favorite customers, Jakino Statori!" called the vindictive Ayiheh.
"Good luck getting your bread anywhere else!" Jakino jabbed back.
"Aye, you'll never see us again!" added a seething Shurassa. "And you…" she extended all five claws from her free paw at Sal-Gheel. "An eternal curse upon you, sakhliit! May you never reach adulthood!"
"Xalzuahui xhuth xho!" Sal-Gheel cussed back without missing a beat.
Slam!
Heaving, Jakino turned to Sal-Gheel. The hatchling was back on his feet. Eyes closed. Breathing to calm himself.
Jakino sighed and facepalmed himself. "Sorry for my language there, kid."
"It's okay." Sal-Gheel reopened his eyes and gulped. "What I said…wasn't very kind, either."
"What…did you say, exactly?" Jakino put his hands on his hips, studying the Argonian. A mix of curious and concerned; almost about to reprimand the boy.
"Erm…" Sal-Gheel pressed one arm to his side and rubbed it up and down. He looked from side to side, unable to meet the baker's eyes. "'Hist poop on you.'"
To his honest surprise, Jakino snickered, covering his mouth.
"Oh, my gods! That's the best thing I've heard all day." Dropping his hand back on his hip, he smiled at the hatchling with earnest pride. "I like you, kid. You've got an attitude."
"Why'd they have to say all those mean things to me?" The hatchling's face fell, eyes and forehead drooping.
"'Guttersnipe' was putting it lightly," Jakino sighed and folded his arms. "There are much worse things Shurassa could've called you."
"What about Ayiheh?"
"'Waif' was not putting it so lightly." Jakino grumbled and shook his head. Only the hatchling's silence met him.
"Still, very impressed with how you handled that," Jakino went back to his place at the counter. "Good on you, kid. Tell you what."
He rested one elbow on the counter. "Lemme handle the sales and the customers. You focus on the bread. Sound good?"
Sal-Gheel nodded but said nothing. Jakino patted him on the shoulders and stood up.
"Wanna flatten some dough? Think I got a spare rolling pin in here somewhere…"
He passed the day learning to make all kinds of baked goods. Buttery and yeasty croissants. Floral and citrusy cinnamon rolls. Cheese and fruit tartlets; and of course, many basic kinds of bread. Every now and then, Jakino handled the customers. Some chose to eat in the bakery while others preferred to take and go. In between interactions with the clientele, he would lather the cinnamon rolls in thick, fluffy, moist vanilla cream that made Sal-Gheel's mouth water. Of course, Jakino would always let him lick the whisk and the brush.
Sal-Gheel kept mostly out of sight during every encounter, unless encouraged to interact by the baker. Those who chose to stay and eat in reacted positively to his presence, albeit after some initial confusion. Those who took their food to go bade hurried goodbyes; but not without smiles, waves, salutes, and the occasional winks, high-fives, and handshakes.
Again and again, Sal-Gheel snuck his bare hands and arms up to the elbows in the oven, to either load or withdraw their contents. Despite Jakino's anxieties, not a single burn or blister cracked his scales or scarred his skin. Never once did he blink from irritation. Nor come away red with pain or stinging tears.
He pushed and pulled the rolling pin back and forth underneath his palms. It flattened the flour-coated dough into a broad pancake shape.
"Buttermilk pancakes, for anyone traveling from out of town who might be homesick…" Sal-Gheel overheard Jakino thinking aloud to himself. Sunset had settled over the city. "Maybe crêpês too should any nobles show up tonight…"
"So, all of this…" Sal-Gheel gestured to the rows and stacks of baking pans that now cluttered the work counter. "...was it for the Moon Festival?"
"Aye," Jakino nodded without breaking pace. "And I couldn't have done any of it without you, kid."
"Jakino?" Sal-Gheel peeked over his shoulder.
Jakino wheeled around. The hatchling grinned from ear to ear.
"I'm glad I'm here."
"Me too, Sal…" Jakino surprised himself saying, as the hatchling turned back to his rolling. "Me, too."