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He gives a satisfied harrumph and goes back to starting a fire in the oven, struggling to get the flint and steel to connect just right over the kindling.
I smile at his earnest attempt, my joy dampened by the fact that in a few short years, he’ll be sent off to the mines to work until his hands go numb and his lungs go black with Neptherium residue. He’s only a child, but our masters don’t see us as anything more than sentient cattle.
“Like this?” Beth asks, interrupting my morbid thoughts.
I snap to, trying to focus on my instruction. “Yes, exactly. We don’t want to whip it too much or it’ll get chewy in the oven. And right before we put them in, we have to add the…”
The sound of marching soldiers interrupts the peaceful morning.
Dark elf soldiers? Here?
Laura goes a shade darker than snow, and she glances at me. Our look is a knowing one. Dark elves don’t bother to come down here in droves unless something is going on, and I had hoped, perhaps, that we could have one nice day before their oppression closed in on us again.
I step out from the kitchens. “What’s going on?” I ask a neighbor.
She’s already trembling slightly, her aging hands fussing. “It’s Gidresu.”
My heart drops and I have the sudden urge to hide the children beneath their beds. “What? Why is he here?”
She only shrugs, shaking her head almost involuntarily.
I glance back to Laura again, who seems to want to disappear into the walls. My baby sister, though she’s a grown woman now, is cowed and terrified by the sound of a single dark elf’s name. My jaw tightens as I watch the procession, and resentment threatens to overflow. Haven’t they done enough?
There has to be a hundred of the bastards.
They don’t do this sort of thing for no reason. Usually, the infamous Gidresu Idramin will make an appearance during midsummer, check the accounts, impose his presence on us for a day or two, and then leave again, disappearing to wherever he crawled out of. He’s too early, I think, troubling myself over his sudden arrival.
He’s a short one, for a dark elf, and has a mouth that’s too big for his narrow face. I hate him more than the invisible chains around my wrists.
Gidresu is the cause of all our grief.
I dare the dark elf soldiers to look at me, staring them down as they pass. They are well trained but some look at me with malicious intent. I’d rather they look at me than my siblings. I don’t want their attention to stray to the children, or to Laura.
And that’s when I see the bastard merchant, himself.
Gidresu, I think, what a pleasure.
His eyes lock instantly with mine, and no matter how I stare, he merely flashes a toothy grin. “I did not call for a feast in my honor, though I am flattered.”
I say nothing, keeping my chin up defiantly.
He could have me whipped or quartered if I speak out against him. Their rules are hard and fast, sparing no inch for humans. Instead, I put on a sharp smile of my own. “We were not expecting you, Gidresu.”
Something hateful flashes in his eyes. But it cools instantly, and he looks me over more thoroughly than even his devoted foot soldiers. “Interesting,” is all he says before he snaps his fingers, and two soldiers approach. “Bring her along.
“It seems we have much to discuss.”
I go stiff when they grab me by the arms and carry me away. But I refuse to look back into the children’s frightened eyes. I don’t dare, because if I show a hint of weakness, they will use it against me.
I have to be strong for everyone.
2
GIROTH
The Ur’gin pups yip and chitter as I shut the gate. On a whim, I extend my hand and pat their bright eyed mother, her fur coarse beneath my touch as she presses into it. “Now, don’t be like that,” I say with a small smile. “I’ll be back soon.”
She doesn’t look as if she believes me, letting out a long whine through the many rows of her razor sharp teeth. Her black tongue quivers as she lets out a gnarled bark.
