The Gift of Fear

[Tralla]

AN: Those who have no access to Critic's Corner, please feel free to comment in this thread. Any in-depth critiquing would be good, and any comments at all would be welcome... Anyone with access to the CC, please post there - my rambling story is long enough without your (much appreciated!) comments in the same thread. =D Thanks all!

 

 

The Gift of Fear

 

“Kaj-ya laanyei do-va sinue lerri damae osh’lliah-”

 

“Hey! Shut up in there!” The sides of the wagon shook fiercely as someone pounded on it with the hilt of their sword.

 

The little girl inside halted mid-song and cringed, cowering further into her corner of the wagon bed. Wrapping her filthy rags a little more tightly around her filthier body, she put her head on her knees and closed her eyes, trying once again to rest. Like all the other times, however, the moment she closed her eyes the pictures sprang up, traipsing mercilessly across her darkened eyelids. Snapping her eyes back open, she merely sat in her corner, motionless, lulled easily into the numbness of the damaged by the steady creaking rock of the wagon.

 

Some time later she felt a wetness trickling down her legs, carving a muddy path through the month of accumulated grime. Raising trembling fingers to her eyes, she realized she was crying. Judging by the size of the moist spot in her lap, she had been for some time. Did she still have tears to shed?

 

That's right. Weep, my little dove. I'll always be here. I promise.

 

~ ~ ~

 

“Eli! Pssst, Eli!” Beside Javick, Eli paused in his vigorous scrubbing of the grime-encrusted kitchen pots and glanced around quickly. Little Loki was crouched just outside the kitchen entrance, gesturing wildly and looking over her shoulder every few seconds as if afraid that someone would sneak up behind her.

 

“Loki, why aren’t you down in the laundry?” he demanded. “If one of the Guardians finds you–”

 

“More brats’re comin’, Eli!” she interrupted in her high, breathy voice. “Couple urchins, but one bumpkin. Real bad shape.” She tapped her temple meaningfully. “Better come, guards’re almost here… They’re here!”

 

As Loki turned and scurried back down the dimly lit hallway, harsh voices could be heard calling out in the direction of the courtyard, and the solid boom of someone pounding on the front gates reverberated down the nearly empty hallways. Eli rose and wiped his hands hurriedly, shooting Javick a semi-rueful glance before hurrying to follow the girl. Javick merely resumed his scrubbing, and within moments Loki was back with another girl to help him finish up with the dishes. Chores must never be neglected, they know, not even to see to new arrivals. The Guardians saw to it that they never shirked in their responsibilities at the Fallik Home.

 

They just finished draining the wash water as the Assembly bell rang, once, twice, three times, sharply, the well-known signal to report to the main entry hall immediately. Quickly, they doused the lights and rushed through the winding hallways to the front of the complex, where they silently slipped into their customary places in the long double line of bodies forming across from the main gates. The Guardians took note of the stragglers – they would be chastised later – then swung the mammoth gates open on hinges that squealed in protest. Three men dressed in the armour and colours of the city guard stepped forward, one with a screaming, kicking child carelessly thrown over his shoulder. Striding to the centre of the hall, the guard roughly dumped his squealing package at the feet of one of Master Fallik’s sons, Thag.

 

“’S your problem now,” the guard growled. His eye and cheek were turning a reddish-purplish colour, and swelling rapidly. To cause this much trouble, this, then, was one of the city brats. Thag nudged the child with his toe where it now lay gasping, completely spent.

 

“Are you a boy or a girl?” he demanded scornfully. The child stared sullenly at the floor, pressing its lips resolutely shut. Scowling, Fallik’s son lifted his boot and brought his heel down hard on the back of the child’s hand. It cried out and tried to snatch its hand away, but Thag only ground his boot more firmly against the floor, pinning the child’s hand against the stone.

 

“Your gender, filth!” he hissed.

 

“I’m a boy, you ill-bred son of an ass!” the child snapped.

 

Thag smiled; it was a dangerous, malicious smile. “Domas.” One of the Guardians approached and bowed respectfully. “I expect this wretch to pay me a proper amount of respect when he comes to lick my boots clean tomorrow night.”

 

“You’re already getting a proper amount of respect,” the child sneered. “Drink-dimmed sons of two-copper whores don’t deserve much to begin with.”

 

Guardian Domas immediately darted forward and struck the child full across the face, sending him sprawled. “Silence, worm!” he roared.

 

Lips curled in derisively, Thag dismissed the child with a flick of his fingers. Domas grasped the boy firmly by his long, heavily matted hair and lifted him, kicking and cursing, into the air. When the pair finally exited the hall, Thag waved impatiently for the other children to be brought in. Two girls, one leading the other by the hand, were herded quickly forward. The leader, the taller and older of the two, cast a quick glance around the hall then approached him, bowing her head respectfully and murmuring a soft, “Sir.” The tiny girl she led, who couldn’t be more than four or five years old, stared vacantly at the floor by her feet and made not a sound.

 

“Did you have any trouble with them?” Thag asked, examining the girls disinterestedly.

 

“No, sir. Not once they were caught, anyway. Zee, here,” the guard explained, indicating the older girl, “has been plaguing the city streets at night for some time now, but she was relatively cooperative once caught. The smaller one was chased damn near clear ‘cross the countryside, but when we caught her… well, she’s been exactly as she is now. We s’spect she’s not right in the head, sir.”

 

“How so?”

 

“Speaks in gibberish, or not at all.” Out of habit, the guard turned to spit, then seemed to remember where he was and turned quickly back to face Thag. “She just sat in the corner for the whole trip. Never spoke to anyone but herself. Never spoke a word I could understand.”

 

“Does she understand what is being said when one speaks to her?”

 

“Seems to, sir.”

 

“Then she will contribute her share of work, like every other child.” He stepped forward and dropped several glittering silver coins into the guard’s hand. “All seems to be in order; you may return to your duties.”

 

The guards nodded and returned to their wagon, driving brusquely away as the massive gates were closed and barred. Thag turned to face the assembled children, still perfectly motionless in their perfectly straight lines.

 

“You will hasten to your beds,” he told them. “Any with special duties know who they are and what they must do. Eli shall guide the new brats to their beds. That is all.” He turned and strode quickly out of the room, watched by over two hundred motionless children. The moment he was out of sight, they erupted into action, scurrying for the nearest exit as quickly and as inconspicuously as they could. Within a few seconds, the hall was nearly empty, and, seeing that Eli has taken charge of the newcomers, the waiting Guardians left, as well.

 

A younger thinner lad shadowed Eli as the tall, lanky youth approached the newcomers. Waving for them to follow, he turned into the westernmost corridor, which would lead, eventually, to the west wing of the compound, the ‘Nursery’. The four children were silent for a long moment before Eli began to speak in a very low whisper.

 

“As you’ve obviously guessed, I am Eli,” he stated simply. “My shadow here is Javick.” The younger boy nodded to them solemnly, eyes busy scanning the dim corridor for trouble.

 

“Th’ name’s Zee,” the older girl replied, “but th’ guard already told you that, if you were listenin’.” Her voice mirrored her actions: abrupt, darting, quick, slippery.

 

Eli watched her with obvious interest. “I haven’t been out of the compound in years, but I’ve heard of you. You were running the streets for a long time, weren’t you? How’d they finally catch you?”

 

Zee grimaced and irritably flicked a strand of short grimy hair out of her eyes. “B’trayed by one o’ my own. Bastard.” She spat. “He wanted t’ lead th’ pack. He won’t last a week. Too old for th’ Home, so…” She smiled grimly. “T’ th’ mages with him.”

 

“And the girl?” Javick interrupted, waving to the youngster trailing absently behind them.

 

Zee shrugged. “On th’ wagon when I was caught. Don’t say much at all. Good kid. Country kid. I’ll watch out for her, in this pack o’ wolves.”

 

“Why doesn’t she speak?” Eli asked.

 

“That’s for her t’ tell you. I dun’ know. She don’t talk t’ me, either.”

 

The hallway ended in a huge set of double doors. Halting, Eli turned to them and smiled ruefully. “Welcome to the Nursery,” he said. “May your stay be as relatively painless as is humanly possible.”

 

The long hallway behind those double doors was lined with small single doors, or, in some places, curtains. An expectant, fearful hush pervaded the empty air there, and as the group proceeded, they instinctively began to ease forward on tiptoes and speak in even quieter whispers.

 

“Fallik Home is the city orphanage,” Eli explained as they walked. “They take in all the homeless and orphaned children and put them to work. The High Mage likes this arrangement, the wealthy like it, the guards like it, and the orphans… well, no one cares about us once we’re behind these walls, until we come of age.”

 

“And then?” Zee prompted, her tone suggesting she already knew the response.

 

He paused thoughtfully. “I don’t know,” he confessed. “When kids near their eighteenth year, they just… disappear. Some go earlier, some as close as a few weeks before. No one’s ever reached their coming of age here.”

 

She looked at him appraisingly. “How old’re you, then?”

 

“I’ll be seventeen next month.”

 

They stopped beside a small wooden door, just as plainly ugly as both of its neighbours, with a crude ‘26’ carved at head height in the wood.

 

“I’m bedding you with Loki,” he told them. “She’s a good kid, she’ll show you the ropes around here. If you have any problems, come to me; I’m the go-between from us to them. You’ll regret it if you go straight to them by yourself. They hate us. They’ll make sure you regret it.”

 

“Understood.”

 

“Make sure your little friend understands, too,” Javick put in.

 

Zee grinned. “She’s neither deaf nor dumb, near ‘s I can tell. You can talk t’ her, she just won’t talk back.”

 

He grunted and turned away. “See you in the morning, Eli. You’re ringing the bell?”

 

“I always do.” Eli glanced at the girls as Javick disappeared behind a curtain a few doorways over. “Get some sleep,” he advised them. “You’ll need it. Loki will explain the rest to you in the morning.”

 

There were three other girls in the tiny, low-ceilinged room behind that plain wooden door. They were fast asleep, and curled together for warmth under a small scrap of tattered cloth that might once have been a blanket. Zee glanced at her still-silent companion and shrugged, then led her over to the group and curled up with them on the floor, tucking the petite child between herself and the girl sleeping soundly next to her.

 

“So will I ever know your name?” Zee murmured.

 

There was no reply, and she wasn’t sure if the girl was already asleep or just not speaking. She hoped the girl was asleep.

 

~ ~ ~

 

It felt like she had just closed her eyes when she became aware of someone shaking her shoulder insistently and a bell tolling loudly somewhere high above her.

 

Unfolding her cramped muscles slowly and rubbing warmth back into her semi-numbed flesh, Zee sat up and raked a hand through her shock of short black hair to get it out of her eyes.

 

“What?” she growled. Strange… normally, she started awake at the slightest movement. Yet here she slept in? Of all the places… Must’ve been the cold.

 

The girl who woke her retreated slightly and smiled. Her features strongly resembled what Zee always imagined a faerie would look like, and her voice, when she spoke, was rushed and breathy, but very quiet.

 

“Hurry and wake your friend,” the girl said. “If we’re the last to the breakfast hall, you’ll regret it.”

 

When Zee leaned over to shake her, she found her quiet little charge’s eyes already open, staring vacantly at some unknown point on the ceiling. She touched a shoulder lightly, and the vacant eyes blinked.

 

“Time t’ get up, girlie,” Zee said quickly. “Th’ bell’s our rooster, see?”

 

To her surprise, the eyes focussed on her suddenly, then the girl nodded and stood. Zee shivered; the girl’s eyes were green. Bright green. Intense green. Inhuman green. But so empty…

 

Loki took their hands and ran silently through the child-filled hallways, through the main hall, and onward to the southern wing, where the dining area was situated. The room was filled with long low bench-like tables lined with kneeling children. Someone had saved a seat for Loki, and there was just enough space for Zee and her ‘girlie’ – Loki adopted the term for introducing the pair of newcomers – to slip in beside her. All of the children filed in within another minute or two, then the Guardians strode up the centre aisle, ten of them, uniformly large, ugly, and nasty. They sat at a large head table piled high with good food, exchanging crude remarks and harsh laughter as crusts of stale bread and watered down broth were distributed to the children by a few unfortunate red-eyed and gingerly moving ‘delinquents’. The children ate as quickly but quietly as possible then waited, kneeling, heads lowered and mouths shut, as the Guardians continued to feast loudly in front of them all. Under their guffaws and thumping fists, Loki began to whisper to Zee, ever so softly, her lips barely moving at all.

 

“The Fallik family owns the Home, but it’s the Guardians you need to worry about,” she explained. “They make us work and make us regret messing up. If you’re smart, or lucky, they’ll only catch you once.” She shuddered. “They’re mean people, bad nature, violent. They hate us almost as much as the Falliks. Almost.”

 

“Th’ man orderin’ everyone ‘round last night,” Zee murmured, “was a Fallik?”

 

“Yes. Thag. The Master’s oldest son. He has lots, but we see Thag the most. He’ll take over when the Master dies.”

 

“Great.”

 

“He’s just like his father, and his brothers are the same. It’ll change nothing.”

 

“Lovely family.”

 

“Hm.” Loki’s shoulder twitched slightly, a gesture that might have been a shrug or just an itch. “After the Guardians finish, they’ll issue the weekly chores. We’re divided into work groups… you work with who you sleep with, so you’ll be with me. I hope your girlie can work. The others’ll be mad if she doesn’t pull her own.”

 

“She’ll work.”

 

“Work hard and don’t talk if there’s any chance of getting caught. Never talk to the Guardians unless they ask you a question you’re meant to answer. Don’t even look at them. If you have any trouble, go to Eli… after your shift. And, by all the gods, if you value your skins, don’t damage anything!”

 

“What happened t’ th’ last unfortunate?” Zee asked.

 

Loki’s voice, although still soft, grew short and clipped; her face was carefully impassive, but her hands shook noticeably in her lap. “My brother. Kern. Broke our last plow. A Guardian found him trying to fix it. Tied him to the broken shafts and bastinadoed his feet, then made him walk all the way back to the compound, dragging the plow like an animal. They locked him in iso' for the night. By the next morning, infection was spreading like magefire. The second night, he… told me he loved me. The morning after that, he was gone, taken while we slept. He was fourteen.”

 

“And you?”

 

“Nine, now.”

 

Before Zee could think of something to say to that, the Guardians rose from their table and began to circulate among the children. As one particularly ogrish man – Domas, if Zee remembered correctly – began to recite numbered groups and their work for the week, the others randomly switched this or that child with thin barbed sticks to correct posture, to punish shoddy appearance, or to halt fidgeting. No one was caught talking.

 

Zee’s group, 26, was shunted to garden duty for the week. As she quickly found, the garden occupied the majority of the central courtyard in the massive Fallik compound. There were two other groups assigned to the same duty, but with spring in full swing it was still an overwhelming task.

 

“It’s not so bad,” Loki said softly as they surveyed the weed-choked beds. “Out here, there’s only one Guardian patrolling, and even old Myrna can’t cover us all, so we can talk a lot easier.”

 

Zee grunted and dropped to her knees in the dirt, attacking the deep-rooted weeds with a sharp shard of stone that Loki passed to her. Her ‘girlie’ knelt nearby, mimicking her actions wordlessly. A crudely woven basket was passed down to them, into which they tossed their uprooted weeds one by one.

 

They made very slow but steady progress, the Guardian’s ready switch ensuring they put as much effort into their task as possible. The morning warmed quickly and the sun beat down mercilessly on the poorly protected heads and backs of the labouring children. Zee was soon sweating, and the sun was making her dizzy, but she didn’t dare stop her now-automatic motions for a moment. She found herself watching her young shadow, the tiny girl’s cool countenance and tireless actions spurring her to keep moving. As the day slowly climbed to its sizzling height, Zee’s mind began to wander, her thoughts shifting restlessly from craving a cool glass of water to wondering about her new companion. Where had she come from? Why didn’t she speak?

 

“Do I ever get t’ know your name, girlie?” she wondered aloud. The girl blinked and paused. Her lips moved, but no sound came out, and with her head in profile Zee couldn’t make out what she was saying.

 

“What? I–”

 

“Her name,” Loki broke in, a strange, unfocussed expression on her pixie face, “is Kaolin.”

 

“Kaolin?” Zee echoed. She frowned and peered at her girlie. “Your name’s Kaolin?”

 

The girl was still for a long while, but finally blinked, nodded, and resumed her weeding. Zee flicked her gaze in Loki’s direction suspiciously, but it was quickly drawn back to Kaolin.

 

“How’d you know that, Loki?” she demanded, her eyes never leaving the industrious little girl.

 

“I… I read her lips.”

 

“I couldn’t see her face. How’d you, from way over there?”

 

“I’m good at reading lips, okay?” Loki snapped, uncharacteristically frowning irritably. “Drop it.”

 

Zee scowled, but returned to her weeding without further protest. As her hands poked somewhat ineffectually in the dirt, her mind churned. Something weird was going on; she knew it. She’d have to have a talk with Eli soon.

 

She spotted him at dinner that night, but didn’t get a chance to corner him for a chat. He served the Guardians their small feast, then disappeared, probably back into the kitchens. After their evening meal, the Guardians made everyone stay to watch the evening ‘entertainment’ – various children being punished with switchings or whippings for tardiness, for supposed disrespect, for lack of effort in their chores, or just for the sadistic pleasure the Guardians derived from the pain they inflicted on random terrified individuals. Once they tired of their games, the children were dismissed; a flood of eerily silent young bodies fled to their rooms, those who were able helping those who were not. Most of them were so tired from their labours that they fell asleep almost instantly. Zee watched for Eli, waiting stubbornly in the corridor with Kaolin almost until the Guardians were expected to round the corner to begin checking rooms. She never did see him, and eventually she and her shadow were forced to retreat into their cell for a night of exhausted slumber.

 

~ ~ ~

 

The new pair fell into the day-to-day routine of the Fallik Home very quickly, and the days soon passed in a blur of monotonous drudgery for Zee. Kaolin remained her steadfast, uncomplaining shadow, and although she had yet to speak a word to her or to anyone, Zee didn’t mind. She herself spoke to few of the other children, even Loki, unless there was something specific she wanted to know. Often, she was too tired to talk, and the Guardians were always there anyway, watching, waiting.

 

The boy who’d arrived with her, the other urchin – a term tagged onto any child raised or found in the city – showed up four long days after his late night disappearance. He was flushed, bruised, and angry; he moved gingerly from place to place, obviously taking care not to aggravate hidden welts, but he gave Zee a triumphant smile when he recognized her. “I spit in his boots,” he’d informed her with an air of grim satisfaction. His name, she soon learned, was Rhib. He was eight years old, her junior by four.

 

She eventually discovered – from Loki – that Kaolin was just under five years old, and Eli’s oddly mature young shadow, loyal little Javick, was only seven. The ages at the Home spanned the full range, from a few months old to a full seventeen years, as did the maturity levels; many of the children were wise far beyond their years, while other were fragile, broken little wrecks. The only thing they had in common was their bad luck for getting sent to the Fallik Home.

Edited July 8, 2004 by Tralla

[lumpenproletariat]

http://www.themightypen.net/public/style_emoticons/default/ohmy.gif

 

Intense. I don't know what else to say, I love it. The hints of something between Loki and Kaolin. The originality of setting and to an extent the darker theme. Like I said, I just don't know what to say, no offense to others, but this is this best story I've read here yet.

 

Now you're committed to updates Tralla

[Tasslehoff]

That is a very nice story Tralla, I am glad I snatched the last copy from Wyvern, keep on writing!

[wyldpatienz]

Tralla,

I was going to give you an in-depth crit on this, paragraph by paragraph but I can't do it. The entire story is excellent. I don't see any flaws, no meanderings,no flat spaces where the story dosen't move. You have just enough description of everyone and everything without losing your reader and you know the secret of using one sentence or word to convey an entire visual. This always makes for nice, tight writing.

 

I have to be brutally honest here....I don't read alot of fantasy because there's not very much of it I like. I don't like complicated family trees, having to learn an entire language before I start Chapter One, or stilted conversation. I could go on and on about what I don't like,lol. But yours is a book I'd buy and that's saying alot for me. Its a story...not a narrative, or a history lesson,or a lengthy speech. And that's what I want in my books.

Tyler

[Tralla]

AN: A note to the sensitive and/or squeamish... this section has rather graphic parts to it. If that bothers you, and you want to know what happens, come talk to me, please... I don't wish to offend, it's just Kaolin lives in a very dark world. And on with the story:

 

 

 

 

Late one night, after Zee had been there about a week, something inexplicably roused her from her tired dreams. Sprawled motionless in the dark, she wondered what had caused her to open her eyes in the middle of the night, and keep them open. Feeling Kaolin stir and sit up beside her, she waited.

 

From somewhere down the hall, a girl screamed. It was a long, terrified wail, followed by a series of sobbing No's. In the very dim light seeping under the door, Zee could see that Loki's face was grim.

 

"A Guardian's having his own evening entertainment," she murmured bitterly. They heard the resounding crack of flesh striking flesh repeatedly, and the girl's cries trailed off into moans and sobs.

 

"They come t' beat 'er?" Zee asked, dreading the answer.

 

"Among other things," came the disgusted reply. This was from Lita, a pretty girl of fifteen. "You'll find out yourself, eventually. We all do."

 

Kaolin jumped to her feet and raced for the door. Zee tried to catch her, but the child slipped through her desperate grab and darted from the room, a strangely intent expression on her face as her lips moved soundlessly.

 

Zee rose to follow her, but Loki held her back with a surprisingly strong grip on her arm.

 

"Let her go, Zee," she advised, an identically intent expression on her pixie face. "You can't help in this."

 

"How can she?" Zee asked suspiciously, catching the odd, detached tone to Loki's voice.

 

The sobbing cut off abruptly. Everything was silent for several long, long minutes, then Kaolin reappeared, slipping back into the room with her typical eerie grace and detached manner. She seemed tired, but unhurt. Once she resumed her place in the sleeping huddle, Loki's eyes rolled back into her head and she sagged limply against the girl next to her.

 

Before Zee could gather her wits to demand some answers, the door was opening again; for one horrible moment she though the Guardians had come for Kaolin, but it was Eli that popped his head in instead.

 

"What the hell just happened?" he demanded. "What did she do?" Glancing apprehensively outside, he entered fully and shut the door. "If they find out we interfered…"

 

"Kaolin-" Zee began.

 

Eli rushed forward and, grasping her by her shoulders, shook the little girl firmly. "Do you know what you've done, Kaolin? You can't interfere. You'll bring them down on us all! Do you understand?" When there was no response, he shook her again. "Answer me, Kaolin!"

 

"Forgot," she said suddenly, startling the older pair. Her voice was low and musical, but carried the dreamily detached note that was typical of her manner to date. "He forgot. Went away." She began to tremble visibly. "He hurt her. It hurt. I hurt. He hurt me. I hurt. Stop. Stop him, stop it, it hurts, she hurts, he-"

 

"Did you make him forget, Kaolin?" Loki interrupted softly. Zee jumped; she didn't realize Loki was still awake.

 

"He forgot," Kaolin repeated faintly. She turned away from them all and curled into a ball, rocking slightly. "Tired. Sleep." And she did.

 

Javick popped his head in suddenly. "Khaela's okay," he reported. "Shaken, still crying, but her roomies are comforting her." He grimaced at what was obviously a thoroughly feminine display.

 

"How far did he get?" Eli asked.

 

"Welts and bruises. She'll heal."

 

Eli nodded. "Did she tell you what happened?"

 

Javick shrugged. "The usual. Dragged her out while she was sleeping. Beat her for resisting. She said he just stopped mid-swing, got this weird look on his face, and wandered off. She felt a hand on her shoulder, and the pain went away. She saw a little girl running back down the hallway, but she just crawled back into her room instead of following."

 

Eli looked thoughtfully at the sleeping child, then turned his gaze on Zee. "Is she Gifted?" he questioned quietly.

 

"Is Loki?" Zee retorted. Eli looked surprised, and she knew she'd hit her mark. "Do the Falliks know?"

 

"Of course not. She'd be fed to the mages. Not even most of the kids know."

 

"How? She does her thing a lot."

 

"She can't control it. They're getting more frequent, and none of us know why. I worry about her, but we can't do anything about it." Eli sighed. "Now we'll need to protect Kaolin, too, I suppose?"

 

"I don't know. She's never done anything like this before."

 

"We haven't known her that long. This could - gods forbid - be a regular thing with her. And she's a lot more powerful than Loki… It'll be harder and harder to hide it, if she keeps interfering."

 

"What, you expect her to just sit by and listen when she had the power to help? She's less than five years old, Eli, she won't understand that!"

 

"We'll just have to wait and see. If it happens again, we'll have to *make* her understand. I'm sorry, but the Falliks may be ugly, and nasty, but they're anything but stupid. They've dug out weaker Gifted than Kaolin. Or Loki, for that matter. All we can do is try to keep them safe." Eli rose and moved to the door, where Javick was keeping watch. "If nothing else, we got her to speak tonight. That's an improvement, right?"

 

"Not here."

 

* * * * *

 

Try though she might, Zee couldn't get Kaolin to speak again. Although she wasn't sure how, Khaela knew Kaolin had helped her, so the child had earned herself another loyal protector. As the days trudged slowly by, Zee watched her friend more intently than any mage's spy-eye, but no other strange events occurred, and gradually, they all pushed the late night miracle from their thoughts. Even Loki's odd gift for 'knowing' things seemed to be taking a break, so everyone was able to turn their attentions to the everyday tasks at the Home.

 

Rhib quickly established himself as a glutton for punishment, drawing the switch or whiplash more often than a dozen others combined. He shirked his chores, talked back to the Guardians, met them eye to eye, and did pretty much everything a child could think of to be a nuisance. Zee suspected he thought they would release him if he caused enough trouble. Loki agreed with her, but was quick to add that Rhib had no hope of that; if he misbehaved too much, they'd just lock him in isolation for a few weeks. That tended to tame just about any recalcitrant child they came into contact with.

 

"He forgets," Loki stated sadly, "that the Falliks have been dealing with children, especially urchins, for generations. They know how to break the spirit better than anyone, except maybe the mages themselves."

 

It took about three months for their fears for Rhib to become a reality. The sad part was, Zee knew Rhib's final act of rebellion wasn't really intentional. Rhib, no matter what he did, had never involved another child in his misdemeanors; his unspoken rule seemed to be, "If I'm going to suffer, I'll do it alone." It was only this fact that kept the other children from hating him instead of just pitying him - no one else ever got hurt. So, when she heard how long poor Temke would be bedbound, despite rumours to the contrary, Zee knew it had been a horrible accident.

 

Rhib was assigned to the kitchen that day. Polga, Master Fallik's second child and only daughter - although she was ugly enough to be mistaken for a son on more than one occasion - was down in the kitchens arguing rather loudly with the head cook over what was to be served that night at the banquet she was planning. Rhib was transferring a pot of boiling water from a roaring hearth to one of the huge wash basins, in preparation for cleaning the morning's dishes. He must have hit a slick spot, because he slipped, throwing his arms up over his head as his feet came out from under him. The contents of the pot, still in Rhib's hands, flew straight for Mistress Polga; the unfortunate Temke was chopping vegetables directly in the water's path and caught the brunt of the damage. Even less luckily, more than enough of the water flew on to seriously scald Polga's face and arms.

 

The screams brought most of the Guardians running, and Rhib was promptly tossed into iso. He was retrieved a scant hour later, when all the children had been assembled and Master Fallik summoned - he was a fat man, as Zee had expected, fairly short, and just as ugly as most of his offspring. When Rhib was marched in by a ring of glowering Guardians, Fallik's face coloured darker than any tomato Zee had ever seen, and he lunged forward to dig his cruel fingers into the boy's shirt and haul him off his feet.

 

"I give you food to eat and clothes to wear," Fallik growled, his rage-twisted face inches from Rhib's own, "and shelter in which to sleep. And this-" He paused, giving the luckless boy a hard shake. "-This is how you repay my generosity? By attacking my family?!" His last words were a furious, foul-smelling bellow.

 

"It was an accident," Rhib protested weakly. "I-"

 

"LIES!" Fallik roared, dropping Rhib and giving him a kick that sent him rolling. "Dishonest vermin! Ingrate! Plague! No one attacks my family! Your only worth, wretch, is as an example to anyone ever stupid enough to attempt it again!" He turned to the waiting Guardians, who were almost salivating in anticipation. "Strip and string it up," he ordered coldly.

 

Within moments, every shred of clothing was stripped from Rhib and burned. "Animals don't need clothing," was the sneering comment from one nameless Guardian. They bound his hands together with a long length of crude rope, tossing the other end over a rafter and tightening the line until Rhib dangled a couple feet off the ground. As a final touch, they weighted his legs, so he couldn't kick, then retreated.

 

Fallik watched the dangling boy for several long moments. Rhib's muscles were already trembling from the strain they were under, and his face was an uncharacteristic blend of pain and genuine fear; even Rhib realized he had gone too far this time.

 

"If you act no better than an animal," Fallik concluded finally, in a dangerously soft voice, "then you will be treated as one." Striding to the fire, he seized a red-hot branding iron from where it was resting in the flames and pressed it to Rhib's right buttock. The shriek, followed by uncontrollable sobbing, made all the children flinch as Rhib writhed in his restraints and the smell of burning skin filled the air.

 

"For my daughter," Fallik hissed. He transferred the brand to Rhib's left buttock. Another scream. "For my family. And this," he finished, seizing Rhib's jaw and holding the angry-red iron right before the boy's eyes, "is so that no one will ever, ever forget." He pressed the brand to the boy's forehead.

 

* * * * *

 

Rhib was cut down and tossed promptly into isolation in the deepest, darkest, dankest, smallest chamber in the Fallik compound. After a week or so of relative normalcy, when Temke's burns had healed enough to return to work and Rhib's cries from his nightly whippings had died to mere echoes, children's memories began to fade, as children's memories do, and Rhib was gradually forgotten, pushed out of minds too weak or broken to deal with his suffering.

 

As the days turned to weeks, everyone forgot. Except Kaolin.

 

It took a couple weeks for Zee to notice the girl's gradually worsening appearance, her slightly haggard expression, her increasingly sluggish movements. Zee had seen the symptoms before; hell, she'd experienced them herself, before coming here. Kaolin wasn't sleeping. At all, to judge by her level of exhaustion.

 

That night, Zee carefully kept herself awake - she never knew she could count that high - while the others drifted off to sleep, listening patiently for any sound or movement Kaolin might make. She was determined to find out what was keeping the girl awake at night.

 

About an hour after bedtime she heard it; faint, so faint she would never've heard if she hadn't been listening so closely. A lilting, musical voice, a voice heard those long months ago when a Guardian dragged Khaela out of her room to beat her, was singing nonsense-syllables ever so softly. So softly that, at first, Zee couldn't make out the words, but eventually the repetitive rising and falling of meaningless sounds resolved itself into a series of hauntingly familiar nonsense-words.

 

"Kaj-ya laanyei do-va sinue querri damae osh’lliah… Kaj-ya laanyei que'til lanvei shuu-teh illi Jahkaeva…" The words were followed by a giggle, sharp and high and distinctly inhuman; Zee didn't know why, but the sound made her skin crawl.

 

"Kaolin?" she whispered. The singing broke off abruptly.

 

"He hurts, mami," Kaolin murmured sleepily, seemingly speaking to no one in particular. "He hurts so bad. So bad it hurts me. Can I help him? Yes, I'll help him. His wings are broken, mami. I can't fix wings. Please, mami, they hurt. He hurts." A pause. "Yes, mami, thank you, mami. Illi Jahkaeva. Illi verri das. Osh." Her whispers trailed off into singsong gibberish again, and listen though she might, Zee heard nothing new the rest of the night. A few hours before dawn, Kaolin fell into an exhausted slumber, and Zee was quick to follow.

 

The next morning, when Zee questioned Kaolin about the late night singing, Kaolin just sat there, staring at her blankly. When they were almost going to be late for morning meal, Zee gave up with an exasperated sigh. "Why won' 'cha talk t' me, girlie?" she demanded despairingly. Just a word, now 'n then. Ev'n a 'I dunno' 'll do! Issat so hard?"

 

"No," Kaolin replied quietly. Zee's jaw dropped; Kaolin had never answered her directly before. The girl gave her a hug. "S'ry, Zee." Zee blinked, opened her mouth, and shut it again, still at a loss, but regained her composure quickly when she heard the last warning bells ringing.

 

"Time fer breakfast, girlie," was all she said. "C'mon, we'll need t' run, now."

 

Kaolin still spoke very little after that, but every word was something, to Zee. Rhib reappeared after three long months of iso', a shivering pale wreck of his formerly vibrant self with an ugly red scar on his forehead, and promptly attached himself to Kaolin for reasons never spoken of. Zee never mentioned Kaolin's late night singing, which continued for the entire three months, to Eli; it stopped as soon as Rhib was free. Rhib was meticulous in his efforts to cause no more disruptions - as Loki had predicted, the Falliks knew how to break any child's spirit.

 

Days blurred into weeks once again, and weeks into months. Eventually, even months blurred into years. Children came, children worked, and near-adults disappeared. The old life, and the larger world, gradually faded from every newcomer's mind as they toiled endlessly for the Fallik Home. Despite her early resolutions not to, even Zee began to forget her old world, until she could no longer remember faces, name names, or even recall clearly the dishonest little bastard who had betrayed her and sent her on a one-way trip to living hell. There was no point, really, anymore. It saddened Zee, in a way, since her past made her what she was; but like everyone else, she had somehow given up on ever escaping the Home - the Guardian's power was absolute, and she was not keen to experience Rhib's punishment for herself. Indeed, she reflected wryly, Loki had known the real truth all along - the Falliks knew how to break any child, whether the child was aware of it or not.

 

Eli disappeared one night a week before his eighteenth birthday and his supposed freedom. Only Zee, Loki, and Javick grieved for him; Kaolin was still too young to really understand what had happened, and the other children barely knew him. Someone nameless took his place as the representative of the children, and when the tears dried and the weeks began to pass swiftly again, Eli, too, slowly faded into memory. And life plodded on.

Edited April 22, 2003 by Tralla

[lumpenproletariat]

Yet again, best writing I've seen here.

 

You are truly impressive Tralla

 

*waits to hassle for more*

[Gwaihir]

Wow, another striking and really good piece.

[Yui-chan]

I can only agree with everyone else. Marvellous writing, Tralla. I'm certainly glad I found time to read through this, and I'll look forward to additions. Thanks for sharing!

 

~Yui

[WrenWind]

You have left me wanting more great work and thank you for letting us into Kaolin's world

[Wyvern]

I echo what others have said, Tralla, in that I've enjoyed this story immensely so far. The amount of effort you've put into refining the details of the piece is very apparent, as the scenes and images are vividly portrayed throughout. My favorite scene so far is the one in which Rhib is severely punished by Fallik for accidentaly spilling the water on Temke, as it's the scene that most clearly displays the malicious rage and corrupted nature of the Falliks towards the children of the orphanage. Like Lumpen, I love the setting of the piece... it's both original and intriguing. I would choose a favorite character, but it's a bit too early in the story for that...

 

As for things to improve thus far, nothing immediatly struck my eye. One minor thing that might have the potential of being improved is the first break in the story, which is in the first post directly after the sentence "That's right. Weep, my little dove. I'll always be here. I promise." Though this is seperated by two spaces unlike the other paragraphs to signify a break in the action, you might want to put a little something else inbetween, such as a "***", as when I first read it I was left confused by the abrupt change in action. I'm sure I'll have more comments as the story progresses, and am definitely looking forward to a continuation.

 

Excellent work!

[Chanz]

this is true master piece- very inspiring. i loved it!!

[Zadown]

Professional writing. :woot:

[Ozymandias]

Wow. This has so much going for it you'd better see this through! Their surroundings are kept to bare minimum in your description, the descriptions you do give are so similar and dreary as they work hand in hand with the keepers and masters of the place; a nice touch that reflects the monotony and oppressiveness of the Fallik Home, the building itself inflicts, by being a dark mirror of its owners.

 

Fallik...that's another nicely done touch. The names even set the tone: Zee, Eli, Javick, especially Loki, all of our protagonists' names are light and somewhat mischevious, evoking the sort of freewheeling, somewhat anarchist spirit that makes me think of the gypsies. While Polga, Thag, and Master Fallik, all evoke, almost by crude, brutish name alone, squat, trollish, mean creatures.

 

In case I didn't mention it, More please!

 

The only problem I can see is your breaks in the action, as Wyv pointed out. They're decipherable with little enough effort, but they flow strangely, sort of disjointedly almost through the whole piece. I'd rework 'em.

[Ayshela]

i resisted reading this at first, for rather personal reasons. It is indeed a difficult read, yet it is well worthwhile. You have an impressive grasp of motivation and of reaction. i don't think i've ever seen anyone so eloquently or accurately show the numbness created by ceaselessly brutal circumstances.

 

Well done.

[Tralla]

"There's been rumours going around," Javick declared one night at dinner. It had been about a year since Eli disappeared; Javick had quickly taken to eating with Zee, Loki, and Kaolin at mealtimes, acting as their surrogate protector and informant despite his young age. Zee soon realized that they had very good need for his protection - a mean-spirited, spiteful girl named Haeli took Eli's place as representative of the children within a few weeks. No one ever found out how; she wasn't at all like the others, who genuinely cared for and defended the younger children. Haeli was openly cruel, singling out and humiliating younger, weaker orphans for the watching Guardians' amusement; she also took great pleasure in sniffing out the most private - and most dangerous - secrets of every child under her power. This made Kaolin a natural target, as she was still a full mystery to everyone at the Home, and it didn't take much perception on Zee's part to realize that only Javick's surprisingly formidable presence kept Haeli at bay. When asked why, Javick only smiled, and shrugged, and said that he had learned things as Eli's shadow that some people wished he had not. Eventually Haeli turned her public attentions to other unfortunates, but her eyes were always on their quartet, watching for… something. She slowly became a favourite of the Guardians, and thus a threat to all of the children, who knew it was only a matter of time before she sold one or more of them out to save her own skin. All they could do was wait, and gather their own information in hopes of finding some defense against the wretched girl's schemes.

 

"What rumour, Javick?" Zee asked. "I've heard a few going around myself."

 

"The Falliks are thinking of contracting children out to businesses in the City," Javick murmured. "Apparently there's a shortage of grunt labour, with the Mages scooping up everyone deemed dispensable for their experiments."

 

"They don't know what to do with us," Loki commented with a soft snort.

 

"Oh, they do," Zee countered. "They jus' wan' t' make more money off us, 's all. What better way than sending us out t' work, an' chargin' for th' service?"

 

"Exactly," Javick agreed grimly.

 

"There will be runaways," Loki said.

 

"Not after a couple demonstrations of the consequences, there won't be," he retorted. "You an' I both know kids are still scared stupid that what happened to Rhib will happen to them, too."

 

"I'd be more worried of what'll happen t' those tha' come of age," Zee said thoughtfully. "Will people notice us disappearin'? Who'll we be contracted out t'? Will those contractors take us on perm'nently after we reach age? Will we jus' be sold int' lifelong slav'ry? There are worse things than death, at a Fallik's hand or a Mage's."

 

"The brothels," Loki muttered.

 

"The mines," Javick added.

 

"An' worse," Zee concluded. "An' if we're more public, it'll be harder to hide Loki's Gifts. An' Kaolin's. The Mages'll sniff 'em out, given enough time."

 

"We're doomed," Loki whispered, her wide-eyed, faraway gaze seeing things Zee didn't want to think about. "A week, a month, a year… In the end, we're doomed."

 

* * * * *

 

The contracts went out, the calls for labour came in, and within six months, every child in the Home that could possibly be spared was licensed out to a smith, miner, cleaner, brothel, or gods knew where else. Javick and Kaolin were both sent to stables, Zee to a tavern across the road, and Loki to a seamstress several blocks over. Rhib was sent to a smithy, where his ugly scars would not be seen by anyone of consequence. Their lives grew harder, and more painful, as their contractors were easily as nasty as the Guardians, and not so reluctant to apply a whip for perceived laziness or sloppy work. They worked all day, every day, falling onto thin straw pallets or bare floors at their places of work and rising early to start again; on the City's one day of rest, they returned to the Home, to cook and clean and mend for the Falliks and their Guardians.

 

It was on one such day of 'rest' that a High Mage came to call.

[lumpenproletariat]

Arh!

Not enough!

*start pulling out hair, breathing eradicaly*

 

 

Moooooooore

[Tralla]

Author's Note: Oooh, It's been a while. Oh well. Sorry. =D There would be more, but I need sleep. Blame human weakness, if you like. Here you are, then:

 

 

 

 

 

Most contractors sent underlings to obtain Master Fallik's services - lip-curling, sneering, supercilious toadies, one and all. These underlings were met by equally scornful younger scions of Master Fallik; the battle of thinly veiled insults that ensued was always a marvel to whichever orphans happened to overhear it that day. This visit, however, was different. An underling was sent, and although he was as arrogant as other such who had come before, he was much better at veiling his insults, and wore livery expensive enough to warrant the air of superiority he bore about him like a cloak. On top of that, he had really only been sent to notify the Fallik Home of his Mistress' impending arrival, so that the meeting could be carried out with all due pomp and shameless groveling, of course. When he had delivered his message, the underling turned - swirling his cloak of arrogance about him with a disdainful flick of his hand - and took up position just outside their door, awaiting his Mistress. He looked at nothing, spoke to no one, and seemed not even to notice the scurrying children at all.

 

The gather bells began to toll, and the children assembled quickly in the main hall, as they had always done. The visitor had chosen the greatest day of rest in the week, Sahmay, to come to the Home, so most of the children were present in the hall. Every single Guardian was also present - a rarity, these days - and lined the entire wall behind the silently waiting children. Their ever-ready whips slithered faintly against the recently swept stone floors, waiting eagerly to catch an unwary child mid-fidget. However, the children's hard-learned discipline held, and the whips never got a chance to sing through the air and strike at child-flesh.

 

When the Hall was finally still, the Fallik family began to file in, one at a time. It was a procession of awe-inspiring ugliness; each child was more hideous and openly mean-spirited than the last, from a genderless hell-spawn of four years of age called Rig, right up to the most cruel and unattractive of them all, Thag. Altogether, Master Fallik has sired fourteen children, and no greater array of humanity's base imperfections had ever been assembled.

 

After the children came the Master himself, remarkably repulsive in a suit of fine brown silk that caused him to resemble his own horse's latest… expulsions. He was just as short and fat as Zee remembered him to be, and undoubtedly just as good-natured. He positioned himself at the very center of the Hall, with Thag just behind his right shoulder, and the other children ranged in a somewhat ragged line behind him, but in front of the orphans. He harrumphed a little and fidgeted with his clothes slightly while he surveyed the cumulative effect of the gathering, then turned to the main doors and waited. And waited.

 

And waited.

 

The Fallik children, spoiled enough to expect instant attention, began to fidget almost instantly; Guardian whips didn't lick their flesh, Zee noted wryly. So, they fidgeted, the orphans were careful not to, and the Guardians kept their malevolent eyes on all. Finally, when the Master himself began to fidget as well, the main doors swung open as if kicked in by a hundred booted feet and crashed against the walls with a thunderous boom. A few of the children flinched, and the Master jumped a good two feet back, stumbling into Thag and causing both men to look decidedly undignified when in strolled the High Mage, outwardly as calm as a brewing summer storm.

 

It was one of the women that had come to visit, not the ruling High Mage of their own city, who was male and very, very old. This woman appeared to be fairly young, in her early to mid-thirties, although her features were so unnaturally smooth that it was hard to tell. Her hair was very long and very black, and bound back in some impossibly elaborate style that must have taken an army of twenty handmaids to accomplish in less than three hours. Her gown - for it was a gown, not the oversized robes most High Mages traditionally wore - was shimmering cloth-of-gold, so thin and fine it clung to every perfect curve on her body; the precisely positioned holes in the fabric did nothing to salvage her modesty, either. Her hands were clasped in her great drooping sleeves; her back was flawlessly straight; her expression was impeccably neutral. She was the perfect vision of absolute power.

 

Her attendant entered behind her, surveyed the assembly, and barked, "Kneel for the great High Mage, vermin!" The orphans fell obediently to their knees, and the Guardians dropped down on one, but the Fallik children - and their sire - remained standing. The attendant glared at them wrathfully and opened his mouth to make another equally scathing command, but was waved to silence by his mistress.

 

"Enough, Callin," she said serenely. Her voice was peaceful and almost pleasant, but exuded an air of iron control that made it seem more menacing than an entire legion of whip-bearing Guardians. "You forget that we are the guests here, not them."

 

"But they do not show you the respect you are due, Great Mistress," he replied. If he'd been a dog, he would have whined from where he strained at the end of his lead, keen to take these unworthy wretches to task for their insolence.

 

"They show respect in their own ways, pet. You forget, these are Felamorrell's people, not mine."

 

"Very well, Great Lady."

 

The High Mage turned to Master Fallik and gave him a cool smile, and extended her shoe delicately. He fell stiffly to his knees and leaned slowly forward to kiss the back of her foot, as any higher gentleman would her hand, were he permitted. "All Gifts to the High Council and the Mages to guard us," he murmured in the most respectful tones Zee had ever heard him utter. "How may I be of service to you, High Lady?"

 

"I seek the Service of your children, sir," the High Mage replied, gesturing for Fallik to rise. He did, but kept his eyes downcast.

 

"Certainly, Lady Councillor. As many as you desire are at your command."

 

"I require perhaps a dozen children. Maybe two dozen. I will pick them myself - they must be ideally suited to their appointed tasks, you understand." The High Mage strolled past Fallik to examine a few children closely. "I will accept only the best, Fallik."

 

"I would offer the Great Lady Zermaterix only the best of the best of my stock, of course," Master Fallik agreed smoothly, following a step or two behind her as she paced the lines of children slowly. "Perhaps we could retire to a more comfortable chamber to discuss details, arrange a viewing of the available labour upon your convenience, to-"

 

"Great Lady," Callin hissed, rushing up to his mistress' side. "I smell-"

 

"You smell unwashed urchins and cheap perfumes, Callin," the High Mage interrupted sharply. "You will await my pleasure outside."

 

"Y-yes, Great Mistress," Callin stammered, peering about intently. He retreated, visibly reluctant, out into the bright sunlight of midday, and stepped to one of the entrance, so he was just out of sight of everyone still inside.

 

"My convenience is the present, sir," the High Mage continued, turning back to Master Fallik. "I will view every child in residence this evening - not just the available labour, but every child. I demand only the best, Fallik, and your best is very likely already employed elsewhere."

 

Master Fallik flinched slightly - the cost of severing a standing contract was significant - but bowed and nodded eagerly enough. "As the High Lady wishes, so shall it be," he murmured. He waved his oldest son forward, and Thag scrambled to his father's side, bowing several times nervously before his father caught his arm to stop him. "I will oversee the preparations myself, Great Mistress," he continued, "if you would permit my son Thag to guide you to a resting suite, or anywhere you desired to go."

 

The High Mage gazed steadily at Thag until the normally overconfident man was visibly trembling in his boots, then nodded fractionally and returned her attention to his father. "Such an arrangement pleases me," she announced. "Proceed as you please. I will view the children at six this evening."

 

"Anything you wish, Great Lady," Fallik replied quickly. He bowed again, then waved his son off and gestured grandly for the High Lady to follow. With a nod, she did, sweeping silently from the chamber on the unfortunate man-turned-boy's heels without so much as a backwards glance.

Edited June 10, 2003 by Tralla

[WrenWind]

Now that wet my appetite for more. Well done Tralla great character description. *needs more of the story* it

[Degenero Angelus]

... I love you.

 

This is great, and you know I want more. You're taking so long just to spite me, aren't ya?

[Vlad]

... Wow.

This is *really* good.

I can't think of any criticism. At all.

This is excellent.

[Annael]

can I have s'more please?

[Vlad]

You promised me more after I gave you details for the writing exchange!

You promised!

 

*puppy-dog eyes*

[Tralla]

The assembled Falliks and Guardians waited tensely until the High Mage could be sure to be out of hearing, then burst into action, the Master and his oldest scions all shouting conflicting orders while the Guardians snapped their whips at any child who strayed too near. The children themselves scurried into the nearest hallway as fast as they could possibly go, scattering to fulfill their many different tasks. Zee, Javick, Kaolin, and Loki congregated in a shadowed niche around a corner and out of sight for a hurried conference.

 

“What do we do?” Loki asked anxiously. Her eyes kept crossing and refocusing – her Gift attacking her conscious mind. “That henchmen almost caught me. I can’t help it. They keep coming! So horrible… I think the High Mage is triggering my… my…” Loki broke off with a half-frantic sob. “I’m so afraid!”

 

Zee glanced at Javick, whose expression was customarily grim, then at Kaolin, who was even quieter than usual. “We’ll jus’ have t’ keep you out o’ sight, Loki. You, too, Kaolin… If that man can do what I think he can, you’re in jus’ as much danger.”

 

“Send them to the laundry,” Javick suggested. “It’s one of the deepest places in the complex, and almost impossible to find if you don’t know where you’re going. I doubt the High Mage’s cronies will go snooping there.”

 

“And you?” Zee queried, eyes narrowed suspiciously. “You look like you’re plottin’ somethin’, Javick. Tell me.”

 

“This is the perfect opportunity for Haeli to cause some of her own kind of havoc,” he replied. “I’m going to go… do some damage control.”

 

Zee nodded in understanding. “Th’ Masters’ll expect me in th’ main dinin’ hall, helpin’ t’ set up… Which ‘s why I’ll be in th’ kitchen.” She grinned. “C’mon, now… It’s goin’ t’ be a bad enough night without getting’ caught by th’ Guardians. Girlie, take care of Loki, ‘kay? Don’t let those henchmen near her, no matter what.”

 

Kaolin nodded and tugged Loki’s sleeve, leading her away in the direction of one of the hidden stairways down to the laundry level. Zee nodded once to Javick, then slipped off to her own chores, outwardly as composed as ever, even if her guts were tying and retying themselves into the worst knots ever thought up. By all the Gods, she cursed silently, why did a High Mage have to come here now? Loki was the worst she’d ever been! All they’d need to do is look at her to know something’s odd. Why were they here, anyway? Scouting for test dummies, for their spell experiments?

 

Or for Gifted children?

 

Who was it that Kaolin used to call to, in her first days here? Ah, yes, Zee said to herself, the name floating slowly out of her long-unused memory. Jahkaeva, if you have any power in you at all, watch over those girls tonight… Without some help, they may not make it to morning.

 

* * * * *

 

Dinner that night was the most tense anyone could remember, with the Guardians striking out savagely at imagined misdemeanors and the Masters pacing anxiously at the head of the hall, on the raised dais where the Guardians normally sat to eat. The children stared fixedly at their plates, afraid even to sneeze, as they waited. They were taken from the room in groups of ten or twelve – the number of children who sat at each table. They were led, single file, to the entrance hall, and spread out in short rows for a visual inspection by the High Mage and her manservant, Callin. The inspections were brief, then the children were led back to the dining hall, and another group fetched. Since they sat at the same table, Zee, Javick, Loki, and Kaolin were summoned together.

 

As they lined up, Zee kept stealing glances at Loki, who stood to her left, and Kaolin, who stood beyond Loki. Loki’s eyes had stopped crossing, at least. Kaolin had her head down and her hair dangling in her face to disguise her unusual green eyes. To Zee’s eye, they looked like a pair of relatively normal, if extremely thin, children. She could only hope they looked the same to the High Mage. Unremarkable. Nothing special. Dismissable. Please…

 

Callin’s intense sharp eyes scanned the assembled children slowly, and his body visibly trembled, as if he had to exert an incredible amount of will to keep himself stationary. He really is like a dog, she thought, straining at the end of his lead. A stupid mutt. As his eyes passed over her, her spine crawled and the hair raised up on the backs of her arms and neck. No, not stupid. Not at all. Trained, and very dangerous.

 

The High Mage’s eyes skimmed the assembled as well, and although they lacked her pet’s open keenness, they were no less intense. She affected the indolent pose of someone highly bored with the task at hand, yet her tense expectation radiated from her in almost palpable waves. She was looking for something, and she fully expected to find it here at the Home. Zee’s heart skipped a beat when those dark eyes lighted first on Kaolin, then on Loki… and stopped. She eyed the frail girl contemplatively for a long moment, then waved Callin to her side and open her mouth to speak—

 

“You go too far, Zermaterix!” The massive main doors swung open and slammed against the walls with a resounding crash, propelled by an inhuman strength. A tall, thin man stalked into the dimly lit hall, flanked by three men who positively bristled with bared blades. He swept back his deep hood with an angry jerk of one arm, glaring furiously down his scarred nose at the High Mage and her companions. He radiated intense rage, from the top of his pristine white mane and beard, down to the hemline of his rich blue robe. Callin cringed at his mistress’ side, and the children shrank back against the far wall, hiding their faces from this new menace. Only the High Mage stood unaffected, gazing back at the infuriated man with a bland expression and one finely curved eyebrow raised in query.

 

“I go not far enough, my dear Felamorrell,” she replied, her voice lilting with poorly suppressed amusement. Zee’s blood ran cold and she silently cursed the faceless wench Jahkaeva in every language she knew. By all the Gods! Now they were faced not only with one High Mage, but two!

 

“You trespass in my city!”

 

Zermaterix’s eyes flashed, but her voice was carefully cool when she asked softly, “Since when has one Mage been forbidden from passing through the territory of another? We are not at war, are we, Felamorrell?”

 

“You do not pass through, Zermaterix! You came to scout my resources, to steal what is mine! If there is talent in this city, it is not yours to claim! Even if you came merely for more meat to experiment on, it would still be theft!”

 

“You resources are wasted,” she sneered. “You cannot even see the wealth that lives, dies, and rots under your crooked old nose! I merely skim the refuse, looking to salvage what you have discarded in your ineptitude!”

 

“Hopped up High Bitch! Get out! Leave my city! Tonight! You are not welcome inside these walls! You can be sure the Council will hear of this!”

 

“Bleat your feeble protests to the Council until your voice goes hoarse, old man. I care not.” Zermaterix picked her slow, graceful way across the hall to the main doors, laughingly caressing the unwavering dagger of one of his men as she passed. “Your days are numbered, Felamorrell, and all on the Council know it. No one fears your wrath any longer. I am but the first of many to pay you a visit.”

 

“If you ever return, wench, it will mean war.”

 

She turned and slowly curved her perfect lips into a malicious smile. “You will war us all, Fela dear. Have no fear of that.”

 

“The Council will hear of this intrusion.”

 

She kept walking out the doors and into the cowering night, the harsh sound of her derisive laughter drifting back as her parting shot. The doomed Felamorrell whirled about and raked the assembled children and Guardians with his half-crazed, half-murderous gaze, and settled finally on the largest Guardian present, who happened to be Domas.

 

“If even the barest hint of the faintest of whispers surfaces about this night,” he hissed, “this entire wretched complex and all of its occupants will cease to exist. Understood?”

 

“Perfectly, Great High One,” Domas murmured, bowing so low his forehead almost touched his knees. Felamorrell watched him a minute longer, then whipped about and stormed out of the Hall, signaling irritably to his three men to follow closely behind him.

 

 

 

AN: This is pretty much unedited, and written when I was pretty tired, so please forgive (and point out, if you would, in a private message) the type-o demons at work.

[Peredhil]

Oh wonderful continuation (and confrontation).

 

You've opened up all sorts of possibilities for the future.

 

bites popcorn instead of his nails, waiting for more with a pretense of cool.

[WrenWind]

me is on the edge of her seat .... I love this story ...such tension ans suspence