The click as my door closed was like
a balm on a festering wound, and I let out what felt like a breath I’d been
holding for hours. I set Shade in the corner next to my bed, and then stood
motionless for the first time that day. I did the best I could to not even look
at the bed.
I considered bathing, but pushed the
notion to the side. Even the thought
of a hot bath made me feel groggy. I had to do something, though. A pungent
cloud of sweat, leather, and dirt clung to me like an invisible haze. Even I
found my own scent offensive. Don’t get me wrong; It’s not the first time I’d
ever been dirty, but just because I was accustomed to smelling like onions each
day after we train didn’t mean I had to like it.
I stripped out of my armor, which was
much harder than I had expected considering that I had to curl my arms halfway
behind my back to undo the laces, and dropped it to the ground. If I never had
to wear that thing again, it would be too soon. I took a few minutes to stretch
my body, finally freed of the restricting leathers.
As if I hadn’t already been aware, the various
twinges I felt as I moved reminded me that I’d had a long day. I took a moment
to study myself in the narrow mirror against the wall. My throat was sore from
having been choked out, but it looked the same as it always had. I couldn’t say
the same about the rest of me. My torso and arms were covered in a number of
colorful bruises, including a particularly nasty one that was burgeoning across
my ribs from where Nameless had kicked me. I don’t expect that anyone would
understand this, but I was fiercely proud of that dark stain on my skin.
I grabbed my nicked basin from off of
my nightstand. The water that still sat in it was from this morning, but it
suited my needs well enough. I sloshed a wash cloth through the water and gave
myself a quick wipe down, sluicing off the worst of the grime and smell. During
the brief bath I noticed a brown smear of dried blood streaked across the top of
my right breast. I studied it for a moment, my mind strangely detached.
There was no telling where it had come from.
As colorful as my body may have been, I hadn’t been cut anywhere. Chances were
that it had come from Pascal, the splashes of his blood having somehow found
their way down the neck of my cuirass. I should have felt disgusted- I had
someone else’s blood on me, after all- but I found that I couldn’t care less. I’d
earned his blood.
Once I deemed myself suitable for
casual company, I threw on an almost clean pair of breeches and a simple linen
shirt. I unwound my hair and gave it a cursory brush before tying it up into
its normal club tail. I glanced over to where Shade stood next to my bed, but
after a moments’ consideration decided not to take him. I grabbed a light cloak
from my sparse closet and tossed it over my shoulders, pulling the cowl up over
my head before I exited my room and tramped down the stairs.
The sounds of a boisterous argument assaulted
my ears immediately as I turned the corner to the kitchen, and I was greeted to
a curious sight: Teek hunched against the counter while a black pot simmered on
the stove, and Maker and Jed standing like towers over each of his shoulders
while he tried his best to make supper.
“I’m sick of onions!” Jed cried,
waiving an insolent hand at Maker. “No onions, boy!”
Teek looked up in panicked
bewilderment, a butcher’s knife in his hands and a sloppy batch of chopped
onion in front of him. “But I just finished-“
“You speak back?” Jed shouted in
fury, cutting him off. “To me?”
Jed’s voice had a dangerous,
threatening quality to it, and Teek started to push the onions away with the
edge of the knife.
“I want those onions, runt,” Maker
interjected, his voice booming at Teek while he stood impassively with his
thick arms crossed over his chest. “Put them in the pot. Now.”
Teek looked back and forth between
the two of them, his expression panicked as if he was suddenly wondering if he’d
made the wrong decision by accepting the offer of our “hospitality.” I knew
that they were just fucking with him, but the poor boy didn’t have a clue. I
took a moment to observe the festivities, smiling to myself.
I didn’t know if Teek would last.
Outside of his element as he was he seemed kind of meek, and meekness couldn’t
survive in our house. Jed happened to look over his shoulder and caught me
watching. The barest hint of a smile curled at the corners of his lips, and he
threw me a wink before exclaiming “Scallions! Where are the scallions?”
“Sca-scallions?” Teeked stuttered. “Wha-what
are scallions?”
“You don’t have any scallions?” Maker roared, his face like
a thunderhead. “How in the name of the Gods can you make a damn stew if you don’t
have any scallions!”
“This is your house!” Teek exploded,
finally succumbing to the barrage and flinging his arms wide to the sides. “It’s
not my fault if you don’t have any scallops!”
“Scallions!” Jed shouted, correcting
him. My teacher scoffed loudly, his voice filled with disappointment and
disgust. “Now, you are saying that Tomis’s house, it is not good enough because
it doesn’t have scallions, yes?”
“Don’t insult me, runt,” Maker chimed
in at the tail end of Jed’s harangue, his already dark expression growing more
threatening as his brow furrowed. Maker and Jed both stepped closer to Teek,
forcing him to lean back against the counter.
I took just a moment more to watch,
still smiling, and then slipped silently out the door into the night. I
wondered how long it would be before they told him that onions and scallions
were pretty much the same thing.
Or if they’d tell him at all.
*
No comments:
Post a Comment