Clanless, A Xia Wind Song Tale

The clang of a dropped pot resounded through the kitchen, making me jump and nearly drop the load of dirty dishes I was carrying. I grimaced as I tightened my grip on the tub, the metal handles digging into my fingers and palms painfully. It was bad enough that I had to clean disgusting dishes, but if I broke them, I would get a fierce scolding from the Kitchen Steward and likely even a punishment. The one time I’d been assigned lavatory duty had convinced me to never allow that to ever happen again.

While Shubert was typically fair, he was strict, and not breaking the royal frippery was inviolable, especially since this particular set had been a gift from a neighboring Pack several centuries ago.

I sighed in relief that I hadn’t dropped the precious cargo and adjusted my grip on the tub handles before heading toward the back door, quickening my steps as best I could under the heavy load and hoping I’d get out to the drudgery before the hullabaloo of Shubert yelling at whichever poor soul had dropped that pot began.

I didn’t make it in time.

Shubert came bustling out of the tiny nook that served as his office, his eyebrows drawn down in irritation, a red flush blooming on his wrinkled cheeks. He homed in on the slave who had dropped the pot, the evidence clearly splattered all over the floor and the slave’s apron. The bellowing began immediately, echoing throughout the hot and humid kitchen, drowning out all of the clanging and clinking of pottery, iron pots and utensils.

You wouldn’t think such a small, wizened old man could have such an enormously loud voice, but Shubert could outshout a thunderstorm. As he berated the slave, a brawny fellow by the name of Jerrek, Shubert wagged a finger in the taller man’s face. Jerrek towered over the Kitchen Steward and outweighed him by at least a hundred pounds, but seemed to wilt before the old man.

Jerrek’s size was intimidating, especially to me since I hailed from a land where the people were much shorter than those of Zanska. But that didn’t seem to matter to Shubert. As the Kitchen Steward, though he too was Clanless like the rest of us who worked in the kitchen, Shubert had full authority over this domain and had done so for nearly thirty years. In here, he was as mighty as the king himself and he knew it.

He stood inches away from the stew-drenched slave, his head tilted far back so he could shout up into the bigger man’s face. “How many times must I tell you to be more careful, Jerrek? That is the fourth pot you’ve dropped this month alone. Do you know how much it costs to repair such a pot? Not to mention the cost of the meat! More than you’ll ever see in your lifetime, to be sure. And here you are, clumsy oaf, flinging them about like they aren’t nothin’ to you! Is it carelessness or are you just that plain dull-witted?”

A little snort came out of me before I could stop myself. Shubert wasn’t normally the type to get mean, so it was more of surprise than humor. But judging from the venomous look Jerrek shot my way with his small, muddy brown eyes, I knew he thought that I was laughing at him. Just what I needed - a new enemy who could probably snap me in two like a brittle, dried twig.

Being from a different country, I was already shunned by most of the other slaves for being a foreigner. Those few that didn’t shun me sometimes outright hated me for no other reason than that I was too different from them with my white hair and red eyes that couldn’t be any more different from the typical Zanskan’s dark features. We fear what we don’t know or understand.

I’d been taught that lesson six years ago almost immediately upon entering the palace as a slave. It had been a painful lesson, but I had learned to tolerate it since I didn’t really have any choice. I had no family here in this strange country, no allies aside from Emmi, my one and only friend. If I made a ruckus or caused the other slaves to get into trouble, that would only engender more ill will toward me. So, for the most part, I endured the gibes and pinches and cruel words and tried to stay out of everyone else’s way and kept myself to myself.

I was usually smarter than accidentally offending someone like Jerrek, but we all have our off days. So while a new bully was the last thing I needed, I would have to deal with that later. Right now, I had dishes to wash and failing in my duties would only get me on Shubert’s bad side, which was already in plain sight. I hurried on to the kitchen’s back door and out to the drudgery, kicking the door closed behind me, cutting off the cacophony of sound from the kitchen.

I took a moment to stand in the morning sunshine and inhaled deeply, taking in the various scents carried in on the breeze before setting the dish tub down next to the water pump. While the smells in the kitchen were invariably good, they could be overwhelming and stifling after a while. Out here, though the drudgery itself was naught but plain dirt with a few weeds and patches of scraggly grass and a slew of wash basins, it was at least away from the heat and smells and sounds of the kitchen.

I tilted my face up to the sky, enjoying the feel of the sun on my skin and the fresh scent of the surrounding woods. There was also, as it happened occasionally when the wind blew just right, a hint of the ocean that was farther to the east.

My homeland had been in the mountains, far from any oceans, though I had read about them before becoming enslaved. But reading about something and knowing them weren’t necessarily the same thing.

Having heard other slaves talk of it was the only reason I knew what the briney scent was. They claimed it stretched as far as the eyes could see and held vast quantities of fish and other life, some larger than anything on land. I had trouble envisioning what such an immense body of water looked like, nor how anything could be larger than a bear.

Someday, I told myself, when I got away from this wretched place, I would go see if the marvelous stories were true.

In the meantime, daydreaming wasn’t getting me anywhere. There were breakfast dishes to wash, then lunch, then dinner, not to mention the reverencing teacups and teapots.

I started humming tunelessly to myself as I pumped water and began scrubbing dishes for all I was worth, the quiet of the drudgery only interrupted as various slaves came and went with their own tasks.

A short while later, after I’d already made several trips back and forth from the kitchen to put away the clean dishes and fetch more of the dirty ones, Shubert came out of the kitchen door and stood a few feet away from where I knelt over one of the dish tubs, up to my elbows in dirty water. I tossed the rag I had been scrubbing with into the tub and stood, bowing my head low and clasping my hands in front of my waist. Though he was also a slave, he was the Kitchen Steward and failure to show proper etiquette to him could earn me a punishment.

I felt a trickle of sweat run down my face as I waited for him to speak. Though it wasn’t really all that hot, summer not having fully arrived, I often sweated when working in the drudgery. Coming from a land where spring and summer combined were only a few months out of the year and where even the hottest summer day didn’t come close to being as warm as a Zanskan spring afternoon, I had never fully acclimated to the weather here and I often felt too warm when doing even the slightest physical labor.

Shubert bent and picked a blade of grass from the ground and began chewing it as he gazed off into the distance, his wispy white hair blowing around his head in the light breeze. I fought the urge to break the silence and ask him what he wanted, since that would also be seen as a breach of etiquette. A slave as low as myself should never speak until spoken to first, so I stifled the question and kept my head down, flicking my eyes toward Shubert now and again as I waited for him to speak, only risking it because he was facing away from me.

After several long moments, he took the grass out of his mouth, flicked it down to the ground and then clasped his hands behind his back. “Keep an eye out for that Jerrek fellow. He likely will take his ire at me out on you.”

Without lifting my head and keeping my eyes aimed to the ground, I could think of no other reply than, “Yes, Shubert.”

He had never before intervened between me and another slave, though there had often been disputes or disagreements between myself and others; some petty, some not so much. I found it odd that after more than six years, he would suddenly intercede on my behalf. Shubert had always been the type to let people deal with issues on their own so long as it didn’t interfere with running his kitchen.

As if sensing my confusion, Shubert explained, “He’s a nasty one. He was sent here after he raped and beat a lass in his village. Near killed her from what I hear. If it hadn’t been for the slave shortage, he would have been executed for his crimes.”

The news didn’t surprise me somehow. Jerrek had a violent air about him, like a volcano on the edge of eruption, which is why most everyone steered clear of him, myself included. Now I could see why Shubert had gone out of his way to warn me.

What was concerning however was that the powers that be would send such a person to work in the Silver Citadel. The majority of slaves, those that weren’t born into slavery, were mostly petty offenders; people who couldn’t pay their taxes, prostitutes, thieves or the like. I had never before heard of a would-be-murderer working in the palace and it was sure to cause problems, exactly like I was experiencing now.

Eerily echoing my own thoughts, Shubert shook his head and said in a concerned voice, “Not sure what the seneschal is thinking, sending such a one as Jerrek to work here, but there you have it. Nobles will do what they will, sensible or not, without a care for what that means for us little folk.”

I didn’t really have a reply to that, so kept quiet, even as a drop of sweat ran into my eye, causing it to sting.

After a moment, Shubert sighed. “You’re a good lass and I wouldn’t like to see you get hurt by that wondering oaf.”

That surprised me. I couldn’t think of a single time Shubert had ever complimented me, let alone shown concern for my welfare. He was swift to point out problems, but rarely gave out praise of any kind.

I couldn’t think of a response except to just be polite. “Thank you, Shubert. I appreciate your concern.”

He snorted. “No need to thank me, lass, just be careful.”

And with that, he turned and started back toward the kitchen door. As he touched the handle, he paused, partially turning back toward me.

“I submitted a request to the seneschal to promote you, but once again, he rejected it. Not sure why as you’ve been a good worker, but again, nobles do what they will. Did you do something to piss him off?”

The second compliment, as well as the strange question, made me frown in confusion. “No, Shubert, I’ve never even spoken to the seneschal.”

He sighed again. “Well, naught can be done about it. My hands are tied, lass.”

Abruptly, Shubert opened the door and returned to the kitchen, leaving me alone again in the drudgery. I lifted my head and finally wiped the sweat away from my eyes, still frowning. It had been a strange conversation; Shubert had displayed both concern and appreciation toward me, neither of which he’d done before and I wasn’t sure what to make of it.

I started pumping a fresh batch of water, the muscles of my arms and back used to the effort after the countless times I’d done this task over the years. I no longer hummed as I worked, instead trying to focus on the task at hand, but thoughts of Shubert’s words bounced around my head from time to time, causing my concentration to waver. At one point, I even noticed that a dish I’d just finished rinsing still had a smear of grease on it. I put it back with the other dirty dishes to wash again and chided myself. I had enough to do without making even more work for myself.

I forcibly pushed further thoughts of Shubert away and set my mind to finishing the batch of dishes so I could get on to the next one.

That evening, I flung myself down on my bed with a groan. Well, flung is perhaps too strong of a word as you couldn’t really fling yourself onto hard wood slats without getting bruised. None of the so-called beds in the slave quarters had any kind of mattress or padding and were so narrow and short that some of the men’s shoulders and feet hung off the edges. Most of us didn’t even have a pillow or blanket, aside from a handful of slaves that had been given gifts or rewards for exemplary performance. I had never had a blanket or pillow since becoming a slave and as a mere kitchen drudge, it wasn’t likely I would ever be given the chance to earn one.

Emmi smiled at me, her dark blue eyes twinkling with good humor and somehow also with concern. She was my only friend here, the only slave who didn’t care that I was a foreigner and looked so different from the rest. “Hard day?” she asked.

I snorted indelicately and sat up, stretching my arms up as far as they would reach and arching my back. My muscles were complaining mightily from the extra labor we’d been forced to do to make up for Jerrek’s folly. Nobles didn’t give a damn about the inner workings or failings of the citadel slaves unless their demands weren't met and they wouldn’t take kindly to waiting for their supper. A late meal would have had the entire kitchen staff given lashings.

I told Emmi about the incident between Shubert and Jerrek and she grimaced when I mentioned how Jerrek thought that I had laughed at him. “Well, now you have yet another reason to watch your back. Be careful with that one, Xia. He has a mean look in his eyes.”

I shrugged. I wasn’t trying to be flippant about it, but he wasn’t the first, nor would he be the last. I was careful and rarely gave the other slaves the opportunity to get at me, but I’d had plenty of altercations with other slaves over the years, so nothing about my reality had really changed.

Emmi fiddled with her slave collar as she looked over her shoulder cautiously to see who was about. None of the other slaves were paying any attention so she carefully removed a plum from beneath her blouse and held it close to her chest so the others wouldn’t be able to see it from behind her. She gestured for me to come sit next to her so that both our backs would hide her treasure.

I quickly moved over and sat close to her, our shoulders touching. In a low whisper, I asked, “Where in the world did you get that?”

She smiled as she explained, “You know that new slave, Matheel? He gave it to me for a kiss.” She laughed quietly as my eyes grew large with surprise and concern.

“Emmi, you know he had to have stolen it. You could both be in great trouble for this,” I hissed at her.

Her smile wilted a bit at my sober tone, but then she looked at me and her smile perked up again. “If it makes you feel any better, the kiss was awful, all drooly and sloppy like when a dog licks you.”

We both sat there shaking with suppressed laughter for a moment until she nudged me with an elbow, offering the plum to me. “No, no, no, that’s your plum,” I said, pushing her hand back toward her.

She rolled her eyes and leaned her shoulder into mine. “You’re my best friend, Xia, and what’s mine is yours. Please share it with me. You know we rarely get any fruit and you enjoying this with me will make that horrid kiss worth it.”

I nearly laughed aloud at that but grudgingly took the dark purple fruit from her hand. It was small and hard, not quite ripe enough, but as I brought it up to my mouth, I could smell its sweetness and saliva flooded my mouth. I took a bite and quietly groaned with delight as the fruit hit my tongue. Fruits and desserts of any kind were reserved for the nobility so the explosion of sugar in my mouth was heavenly.

I sat there for a moment with my eyes closed, not even chewing, lost in the flavor sensation until I heard Emmi say in a pert tone, “Ahem, if you please?”

“Oh! I’m so sorry, Emmi!” I exclaimed, abashed at my selfishness.

I handed her the fruit as she laughed softly and took a huge bite, juice dripping down her chin. She wiped it away with her fingers and licked them clean before taking another mouthful and handing the fruit back to me. We both ate greedily and the small plum was gone too soon.

Emmi sighed with satisfaction as she tucked the plum stone into her blouse.

“How are you going to get rid of that?” I asked, a note of worry in my voice. We both knew what would happen if one of the guards found the stone.

She sucked on her fingers, getting the last vestige of sticky sweetness. “I’ll toss it in the lav when we go to the baths.”

I nodded for that was a good idea. The lavatory was on the way to the bathhouse so it would work out perfectly as long as no one saw us.

“Speaking of which,” I said, standing, “we should get going before there’s no more hot water.”

“Goddess forbid,” she quipped.

“Hey, hot water is one of the few luxuries we’re permitted around here. I, for one, enjoy it, so get moving, you silly lass!”

“All right, no need to get pushy,” she pretended to grumble and we both laughed.

Reaching under the low bed, I pulled out one of the two bins each slave was allotted, which held clean clothes such as the common blues or the uniforms that slaves like Emmi wore in the palace.

Hissing, I pulled my hand back and saw a fairly large splinter sticking out of my thumb. Emmi helped to pull it out and I sucked at the drop of blood that welled up. Apparently, my brain wasn’t working at full capacity today and I had been careless once again. The wood bins were so rough that I’d lost track of how many splinters I’d received over the years. It made keeping our clothes free of snags tedious as well since a slave would be blamed for any damage despite the fact that it wasn’t our fault we were given such coarse boxes to store our clothes in.

I shoved my resentment aside and grabbed a clean set of blues and Emmi and I left for the baths.

On the way there, we diverted to the lavatory. I peeked inside as Emmi looked around, both of us ensuring that we were alone. “All clear,” I whispered and closed the door behind Emmi. She handed me her bundle of clean clothes and quickly went over to one of the toilets and threw the plum stone in. Suddenly, the door was flung open and a trio of female slaves came in, prattling and laughing. Emmi quickly flushed the lav and pretended to adjust her clothing as if she’d just gotten off the toilet.

One of the women, Morikae, stopped and looked at me with an ugly smile that only turned up her mouth on one side due to a large scar that ran from the corner of her mouth down to her chin in an arc like a crescent moon. “Oy, what are you doing there, Xia? Gettin’ a nice show, eh?” She and her friends laughed coarsely at my “Ewww'' as Emmi and I hurriedly washed our hands and left.

As soon as we were back outside, Emmi let out a whoosh of breath. “I almost actually peed myself when they burst in like that!”

“Me, too,” I whispered and grabbed her elbow, intending to urge her down the path, but just as I was about to walk away, I could hear the voices of the women in the lavatory. I couldn’t make out the words, but something about the tone caught my attention. There was something sneaky about it, something too serious for a trio of slaves chatting in a lavatory. I shushed Emmi with a finger to my lips and leaned my ear against the door, trying to hear what they were talking about.

Their voices were too low and I could only make out some of the words. Not for the first time, I wished that I wasn’t wearing a slave collar. If I’d had my wolf, I would have been able to hear every word they said from halfway down the path.

As it was, I could only pick out Morikae’s voice from the other two, whom I hardly knew. All three women worked in the palace, the same as Emmi, so our paths didn’t cross much except for that we were in the same dormitory. Morikae was the leader of their little clique and did most of the talking and taunting while her cronies usually just laughed and followed her lead, but it meant that I didn’t know their voices as well. Their low tones and my lack of wolf also made it more difficult to tell which voice was which.

One of them griped, “Can’t you ask him to stop? We can’t keep up with… now we’ll be even more...” I couldn’t make out the rest of the words, but they were said in a whiney tone of voice.

Morikae hissed back, “Stop your puling. As if he’d ever listen to me. Besides, you...”

The second woman said, “... wasn’t this bad before when it was only one or two a month. Now it’s several a week. How are…”

The first woman added, “This isn’t worth the little bit of extra… You said there would be rewards, but...”

Morikae’s voice turned ugly and got a little louder with her anger. “That’s not my problem. You agreed to this and I’m risking my neck to get that food to you. Now shut your fucking mouths and let’s get back to the palace.”

I straightened up quickly and grabbed at Emmi’s sleeve, pulling her down the path at a run. My instincts were screaming that if Morikae knew I’d heard anything of what she and the other two women were talking about, I’d be in serious trouble. Just as I heard the women coming out of the lavatory, I dragged Emmi off the path and behind a tree.

As the trio’s voices faded away, telling me that they had gone in the opposite direction, I let out a whoosh of pent up breath I hadn’t even realized that I was holding.

Emmi was gasping for air from the quick run as she asked me, “What the blue hell was that all about, Xia?”

I peeked out from behind the tree to make sure that no one was looking and started down the path, waving a hand at Emmi to come along. I didn’t want to be here if those women happened to come back this way. As we walked down the path that would lead to the bathhouse, I told Emmi what I’d been able to hear and she looked as bewildered as I felt. “What were they talking about?”

I shrugged. “I have no idea, but their voices sounded serious and one of them sounded scared.”

I nudged Emmi with an elbow. “Keep silent about this. We don’t want it getting back to Morikae or the others that we overheard their conversation.”

Emmi looked horrified at the thought. “Of course! Morikae isn’t to be trifled with. She would definitely turn us in for that plum stone if she’d seen it. She was the one that ratted on Alven when he took a sip of that leftover wine when clearing the banquet hall.”

Emmi shook her head in disgust. “I heard he spent three days in the infirmary after the lashing he got. And they wouldn’t even take his collar off so he could heal with his wolf just to make a point. And for what? A sip of wine that some noble didn’t finish? How ridiculous!” The bitterness was thick in her voice and I agreed with her wholeheartedly.

It was absurd that slaves were punished for taking castoffs. It was just going to go in the midden fires after all, so it didn’t hurt anyone. But, there you go, yet another useless rule that only applied to slaves.

“And,” she continued, “word is that Morikae and her little gaggle are receiving special treatment from the seneschal in return for their squealing.”

“All the more reason to be extra careful around them. Now would you hurry? That hot water is calling my name.” She didn’t call me pushy this time.