Jemin's story, page 1

"Outta my way you slow-witted brat! If you can't be of any use, you can at least stand aside!"

The soapy, scrawny kitchen girl found herself bodily shoved aside as a heavy-set woman bustled past with a basket of laundry. An amalgam of foul odors followed in the woman's wake.

"Move, wretch!"

Again, she was pushed, this time against a stone wall, by a rangy, hawk-nosed woman carrying a tray of steaming bread loaves. The back of her head bounced lightly off the wall with an audible thunk. Gritting her teeth, she rubbed her bruised arm and head.

With an effort, she leaned back over the large sink full of dirty, greasy dishes left over from the morning meal. Bits of food and suds stained her worn, faded clothing, the hot water wrinkled her raw, reddened hands. Her right hand was shaky; a nerve in her arm was pinched when Padta had carelessly knocked her to the side. A combination of the tremor and the slippery coating on her hands made her job nearly impossible. With a great amount of concentration she finished cleaning a plate, but then a glass slid from her grasp, fell to the floor, and shattered. Everyone in the kitchens heard the noise, and a score of servants had gathered round before the head cook and one of the stewards had appeared to reprimand her.

"How dare you break the master's valuable dinnerware!" the man growled.

The portly woman beside him protested loudly and stepped forward menacingly to backhand her. Padta. "What were you thinking?"

It was all Jemin could do to catch a hold of the counter as her feet slid out from under her as they met with a puddle on the floor. The blow did not hurt all that much, but her chin caught the edge of the counter before she could stop her descent, slapping her jaw shut with a painful clack of the teeth. Straightening, she wiped her nose and sniffled defiantly. "It was apprentice-quality glass anyhow," she muttered.

"What did you say?"

Jemin squared her jaw, ignoring the woman's dangerous tone. She was sick of this treatment. "I said--"

She couldn't finish her sentence; without warning, the steward decided to end this discussion promptly and with as little commotion as possible. Jemin felt as if she was sailing through the air as his fist connected with her face. Dizziness and blinding pain threatened her with the humiliation of unconsciousness, but she prevailed, rising from her horizontal position to sit upright.

"Clear this area. There's nothing to see," the steward said, glaring at his loitering staff.

"I want you out of my kitchen, Jemin," the cook spat, using her name for the first time in the girl's memory, but coming from Padta's mouth it sounded more like a disease than someone's name. "You shame us with your very presence. If you have no respect for your duties, there's nothing keeping you from leaving."

Jemin fought the urge to argue. What did these people know of shame? And respect? They hadn't a clue!

As the crowd thinned out, the girl noticed the reactions of those around her. Some appeared sympathetic, some had shrugged indifferently, and still others looked smug, as if Jemin had just gotten what she rightly deserved. Honestly, she didn't know if she did or not, she had never been very good at swallowing her pride when she should. Either way, she carefully, with every effort, suppressed her own expression beyond that caused by the obvious pain. The delicate skin around her eye was already beginning to discolor and swell.

Rising to her feet, she calmly exited the kitchens, and finally the Hold. Anyone who knew her would have no doubt as to her destination: the stables. When no one was looking, she broke into a run, legs pumping for all they were worth. She wasn't sure which might happen first: the expulsion of her meager breakfast from early this morning, or a cascade of bitter tears. The stable seemed the only safe place to disgrace herself in such a way.

She found her elder brother, Zaddizh, lining the stall of one of the runners with hay and a pitchfork. He turned around at the sound of pounding feet on packed earth, wiped his brow with a sleeved shirt and grinned. "Ahh, Lary, how are y--" His voice cut off abruptly upon the sight of her puffy eye.

Skidding to a halt, the dike finally broke and she fell into his arms, sobbing convulsively. For a long time, there was nothing to be done except to hold his beloved sister, clutching her tightly to himself, rubbing her back comfortingly and kissing her dark hair.

Finally her wrenching sobs had died down to small gasping hiccups. They sat down on a bale of hay and he turned to her. "What happened to you?" He had a few ideas about the "Who," but he was pretty sure he knew the "Why."

She rubbed her tingling cheek, the redness left by Padta's hand beginning to subside; Zaddizh had not noticed it before. "One of the Stewards gave me the black eye. The Cook slapped me before that. I broke a glass and tried to make light of it..." She bit her lip to hold another flood of tears at bay.

Zaddizh sighed and hugged her. "Oh, Lary..." It seemed that this had been coming for quite some time, though he had convinced himself that Jemin would learn. But it was like teaching a wher to enjoy the sunshine. Who could fault Jemin for being herself?

"Ziyazh, I don't think I can take this much longer. Nobody likes us, they laugh at us behind our backs, but only I seem to notice. They only take it out on me."

"Oh, I notice, I just ignore them. They know I can fight back." His toothy grin was only half-hearted. He rose to his feet, wearing a thoughtful expression. He began to brush the horse, as if turning his back on Jemin and her problems. She knew better, that he merely needed something for his hands to do, and the horses always had a calming effect. He turned back to her. "Come work with me."

Startled, Jemin realized that he meant always, not just now. "Uh...here, in the stables." It was not a question.

He nodded.

She considered for several moments while he continued to curry the beast's coat. She weighed the possibilities, but ultimately it seemed hopeless. She sighed. "I don't think that will help. Gyness is leeching my ... self ... right out of me. Just being here, even in the barn with you and all these peaceful giants," she smiled and rose to her feet, began to stroke the horse's head. She shook her head.

"Well at least until you can leave. The Lord won't take too kindly to 'leeches' of any kind." Zaddizh grinned wryly.

The smells of the barn were soothing. The sounds within were muffled, no sharp clatter of ceramics and metal, no shouts... Well, she amended, there were sharp noises in the barn, but they were not laced with malintent. It was always somewhat warm here, even in the winter. One had only to hide in a pile of hay. This was one place she had always found, from her earliest days, to be safe. Finally, she nodded. "All right."

"Great." Zaddizh's wide grin was finally warm and happy. "Now, to plan your escape..."

"Thank you Ziyazh!" She hopped around the horse, hugging him fiercely, almost knocking him over, and kissed him on the cheek.

"That's what brothers are for. Now go get that eye of yours fixed up. We'll discuss it when you get back."

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Adwendaweth | Jemin | Zaddizh
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