Page 56 of Elvenbred

Aelford glanced from the magic sensor to Triana. “Not a flicker. How can that be? You made twelve today, just like this?” Triana nodded silently, too weary to say any unnecessary words. “That much, just from you? That’s not supposed to be possible. You did six the first day, and now twelve?”

“Yes, I’ve tried my best,” Triana said defensively. “I’ve learned how to focus better, how to impose my will on the form. I can do it more easily now. I think it takes less work … perhaps just a little more time?” Triana hated begging, and despised the sound of her voice. “Please. I’ll try harder.”

Aelford looked troubled. “A yellow is a yellow. So, impressive for what you can do on your own … but not impressive enough to make your quota.” She chewed her lip thoughtfully. “You really can’t sense the magic all around us, the golden aura?”

“No,” Triana answered, “but not through lack of trying. Whatever it is you see, I just can’t.” She took a deep breath. “Aelford. Barring a miracle, I’m not going to make the quota in two days. The others already resent me. I’ve been knocked down twice in the bath, and some kind of itching powder was put in my bed. It will get worse in two days. I’m not suited to this. Surely, there must be something else I can do, to earn my ration. If you could only talk to Lord Haldeen ….”

Aelford cut her off with a snort. “Sure gel, next time me and His Nibs have tea and biscuits, I’ll bring it up.” Her expression hardened. “No one asked me if this was work I was suited to. I just made the yellow gem glow, and was assigned to it. Here I am. And here you are. That’s it. Suited don’t enter into it.”

Triana cursed inwardly. Smart. Now you went and offended the old bat.

She slid the completed brick out of the form, and wrapped it with waxed paper, as she had been shown, making the complex folds that tucked the paper back into itself in such a way that it would not accidentally open.

Aelford stood. “That’s eight. Seventeen more and you make your quota.”

Triana sat on the edge of her bunk, her head in her hands. She had missed her midday meal, and taken only a brief break, but she had done fourteen. Her head throbbed, and she just wanted to sleep. She checked the thin mattress and the threadbare sheets. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Still, the hall could be cold at night, and sleeping in her clothing provided a bit of extra warmth.

Magic had always been a way to make things easier, and she wished she had paid more attention to her education. Magic instruction was next to nonexistent back home, compared to here … you just did it. None of this folderol about ambiances, tea cups, and whatnot. Still, learning at least a little about how it all worked might have helped her. She knew she had improved. Gone from six to fourteen. Fourteen. She needed to make at least two more to keep from taking bread out of others’ mouths. What in the name of the ancestors had Aelford even meant by “golden glows” and “auras” anyway? Frustration made her eyes sting. There was something missing here—or maybe she was missing something, some … sense or other that they had and she didn’t.

“Get up.” A foot jostled her bed. She rolled over to see a young woman, her face flushed with anger, backed by what looked like several others. Triana saw the girl poised for a fight, and that she needed to be on her feet, if she was to have a chance at defending herself. She swung her legs out around the edge of the bed, and stood. She was so tired.

Triana was a head taller, and perhaps a little longer armed, but the rest of the advantages went the other way. She opened her mouth to speak, to try to calm this before it got out of hand, but the other woman wasn’t having it.

“You shut your sewer mouth, street trash. I don’t know how you conned your way in here or whose hand you filled with silver to get this job, but this has gone far enough. Me and the rest of the girls all had to make our gems, had to make them glow, and are working our asses off … while you float in there and you do what, a half-quota, when you feel like it? And spend the rest of your time napping! What were you? A red … maybe a weak orange? Think you can slide in here and do serious Making on that weak sauce? Walk out, while you still can.”

Triana tried to answer, but was cut off.

“I make my quota every day, and the one or two extra that I’ll need if I am going to get out of here, and I’ll be damned if I lose my extras to some gutter-rat.”

Triana got her hand up in time to block the first punch, but was too tired and too slow to stop the second. It split her lip and dazed her long enough for the girl to get a solid hit in low against her side, where the ribs had been removed. Triana folded, went to one knee, and saw stars as she tried to draw breath into her bruised lung.

The woman knelt down, got a fistfull of hair, and jerked her head up to snarl in your ear. “Take one of my rations. Get between me and my baby. Keep me from getting out of here, and I won’t be hitting you with my hand. I’ll find a brick, and I will split your skull.”

She stood up, releasing Triana, and walked away. The other woman gave her glares from over their shoulders. The last jammed her knee into Triana’s shoulder as she passed.

Triana sat on the floor, holding her side. The woman on either side of the narrow passage between bunks either studiously ignored her, or gave her their own hostile looks. Blood from her split lip dripped down her front.

Once her breathing settled, she got painfully to her feet, and went into the bath. Her side, shoulder, and lip all hurt. She took a rag and dabbed at the split lip, studying her distorted reflection in the metal mirror bolted to one wall.

Once, she had been hailed for beauty … fine high cheekbones and the porcelain complexion that signified the finest breeding … in all senses of the word. The most beautiful women back home weren’t like these fat lumps. They were as slim as grass stems, and she had been considered a beauty among beauties.

Slim as a reed. She did not have much weight to lose before “slim” became skeletal. Her eyes looked hollow with fatigue, and her skin drawn tightly over her face. A rash had broken out on her cheeks, and her lip looked about to swell to twice its size where it had been split.

She took the rag and dabbed at the lip again, then hissed at the pain. She licked the swollen lip. The taste of blood made her ill. Her hand shook as she rinsed out the rag and pressed it to where it bled. She counted to ten, and inspected the rag, moved to a clean part, and did the same thing again. In time, the bleeding slowed, and finally settled into a slow ooze.

Other women came into the bath. They gave her a wide berth. She could hear the whispers, the murmurs, and the little laughs. She felt her stomach turn with anxiety. She had been on her own, at least since her father died, but she had never felt this alone. She had been hated on her home-world, but her wealth and connections insulated her from the consequences of that anger. She glared at the women on the far side of the bath. They giggled to themselves, unimpressed by her expression, and left.

The mage-lights in the sleeping hall began to dim, and the soft sounds of the hall quieted as women took to their beds. Triana stood, looking into the mirror for a long while. She had seen enough bluffing to know the women who had hit her had been deadly serious. And there was absolutely no one she could go to for help. Aelford had made it clear that she did not believe Triana couldn’t do the work. And she had made it clear that this was Triana’s problem, not hers.

She looked at her reflection in the mirror. That bitch is going to kill you, you know. If not her, then someone else. In their shoes, I’d do the same … lazy wench can’t pull her weight, expecting others to do her bit for her. She spat blood into the basin, watched it dissipate in little tendrils. I can bust my ass for fourteen. Once. But I can’t hold it. And two days from now, when they take a ration from some other girl’s pile to fill mine, it’ll be just a matter of time someone puts a knife into me, or mashes my head in with a brick when I’m asleep.

She spat again. Another pink tinged blob in the basin. Even if I make that number, and not get stabbed, I’m still too far out to make the rat-bastard Overseer’s cut much less the arse-licking eunuch-livered Haldeen’s. She slammed her hand down on the side of the basin. “Haldeen, you bastard, I’ll ….”

“You’ll what, dear?” Triana had not seen Aelford enter. “You’ll what?”

Triana was past caring. “I’ll cut his balls off and feed them to the pigs”

“Hrmm,” replied Aelford, not much impressed. “Not sure he’d notice. His Nibs is a right weasel, sure enough.” She came a step closer. “What happened?”