Page 51 of Elvenbred

He barked a single laugh. “Done nothing wrong? Your nightly excursions … breaking into our lord’s personal offices, rifling his goods, and violating his hospitality? Nothing? Really?”

Triana blinked in surprise. She had been so careful!

“Yes, we know all about that,” he continued. “You forfeited any claim on his kindness. You owe him for his grace and generosity … and for the rations you ate while under his roof. Until that debt is paid, you owe him your labor.”

Triana was shocked. Her temper, never far from the surface, exploded. Her voice rose “I am noble! Common labor? I will do no such thing.”

He shook his head slightly, his mouth pursed as though he had eaten something sour.

“Then you will starve. We have a simple system. You work. You eat. Refuse to work, and see how your belly likes spooning with your backbone.” His voice dropped an octave, purring on the edge of threat. “Work and eat, but you’ll not have another morsel except by the labor of your own two ‘noble’ hands. Steal another’s rations, and I will take those noble hands at the wrists. Do we understand each other?”

She stared at him, both sullen and furious.

“I weary of repeating myself. Make me do it again, and I’ll fine you your ration for tonight. Now, do we understand each other?”

“Yes,” she answered, through tightly clenched teeth. She bit down to stop the profanity that she desperately wanted to unleash on him.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, Master Overseer.”

He relaxed, just a trifle and took a deep breath. He looked past her and to one of the guards, “See, she can be taught.” He turned his attention to her. “Now, let’s start again. What can you do?”

She took several deep breaths, willing herself to be calm before she answered. This Overseer had pushed her, testing her for reasons she didn’t understand. Bide your time she said to herself. One more deep breath. “Well,” she answered, matching his lighter tone, “I’m very good with illusions.”

“Illusions?” He made a gesture as though brushing away a fly. “Children do illusions. What else? Ever make food?”

She thought quickly. “Well, my mother taught me. She and I made tea cakes once, but we grow food, we don’t make it, so it was sort of a game.”

“Hrmm. Tea cakes.” He glanced at the guards. “Impressive. She made a tea cake.” Then, at her. “Your testing suggests you are just strong enough for the work, so that is what you’ll do.”

She shook her head. “Surely—”

He interrupted driving his words directly over hers. “This is how it works. You will have a quota. Make your quota, and you eat. You have a quota. I have a quota. The lord has a quota.”

Triana’s pert mouth escaped her control again. “Does the king have a quota?”

The Overseer ignored the tone to focus on the words. “Yes. The king has a quota. He, and the rest of the most powerful wizards get to die fighting the Predators, if that’s what it takes to save this city. You screw up down here. Boo hoo. You lose a ration. The king screws up, and he turns into a fine, red mist.”

He looked past her, nodded to someone she couldn’t see. “Wasting time. I’ll summarize. You owe the lord a debt of rations and respite. Under our law, he may detain you for your labor until the debt is paid. Want your freedom? Make more than your quota, and use the surplus to start paying down what you owe our good and generous lord. Once you pay off the debt, then you can go.”

“That’s it? Pay it back, and I’m free?” She very seriously doubted that, but wanted it all out there.

He smiled then, a truly malicious grin. “Food. Clothes. Shelter. Breaking and entering. Works out to fifty-one ration bars.” He ticked off the tens on his fingers.

Triana bit the inside of her lip, thinking. “That doesn’t sound too difficult. What’s the catch?”

He grinned. “With a wee bit of interest, of course.”

There it was. She had seen moneylenders get their talons into elven lords back home that overspent … often by trying to impress their betters. She understood then that she would never get free of the Haldeen’s “debt.”

“Shit.” she muttered. “I’m screwed.”

“Wasting time,” the Overseer said. “We’re done here. Aelford will be along in a few. Hard-faced woman. Chin that can split wood. She will get you sorted. You will have a short grace period to pick up the skills … making food is hard work. Simple math … over quota pares down the debt, once the interest is paid … failing to meet your quota adds to the debt.” He shrugged, turned on his heel and walked away.

Triana looked around, hoping to see someone she could appeal to, and found herself being shoved forward by one of the guards. An older woman, with a severely pointed chin and gray hair pulled tightly back in a bun emerged from the patchy gloom in the main hallway and walked towards her. The woman’s focus and appearance reminded Triana of a falcon. She had a sudden sympathy for the rabbits when the woman … Aelford? … set her intense gaze on her.

“Noble girl from some shit’ole in the mountains,” Aelford said, her accent one of the strongest Triana had heard.