“Just go over,” Lill prompted Niklas.
“No,” he said, nearly petrified.
“Courage, man. She did invite you.”
Niklas stiffened. Half a month ago, he would have delighted to throw himself into a firefight for valor and glory. But visiting Esther two apartments down proved to be a battle he wasn’t prepared for.
“I should send you with Rasmus, though. As a chaperone and such.” Lill smirked at Niklas with an amused twinkle in her eye. “Not that you would even know enough to need one.”
“Huh?”
“Rasmus!” she hollered. Moments later, the boy came in looking annoyed at the chores he anticipated she would assign him.
“What?”
“Go with Niklas to Esther’s.”
His face shifted to a grin at the unusual request. It would probably be much better than chores, and maybe he thought Niklas might finally make good on his promise to teach him how to fight.
“Now you have no excuse,” Lill said. “I’m sending you with reinforcements. Rasmus will protect you from her if she tries to bite!”
Lill and Rasmus laughed at the joke, but Niklas didn’t understand it.
“Well, go now!”
Niklas felt faint. He tried to blame it on his recently returned headache but knew he wasn't honest with himself.
“Well, I’m off to see Esther!” Rasmus declared as he headed for the door. “Either you come with me, or you stay.”
“Wait!” Niklas said as he ran after the child, but not before he noticed Lill fail to conceal a discrete wink to her son.
“Well, let’s go then!” Rasmus huffed as he marched out to Esther’s apartment. Rasmus pounded on their door not too gently.
In only moments, it was pulled open by a startled-looking John.
“The honorable Mr. Loga has come to call upon Lady Esther of your establishment!” Rasmus almost bellowed, taking whatever role he was playing very seriously.
“And you’re the chaperone, eh?” John asked, taken aback by the child's enthusiasm. “A bit young, don’t you think?”
“I’m not too young to work a team of horses. What do you want? A degree from an Eduvor university?”
John held up his hands defensively at the boy's emphatic mouth. “Easy now. Can you enforce decency here?”
“I assure you, on behalf of the honorable Mr. Loga, no such enforcement will be necessary!” He practically shouted.
“Right.” John doubted. “The pit boy–”
“Will be honorable and respectable with your sister. There is no man in all Soutfel she’d be safer with!”
Niklas watched the exchange blank-faced and entirely confused.
“John!” Esther said as she came to the door. “You’re going to let him in, right?”
John scratched his head. “It seems you came with an oddly competent spokesman and particularly ambitious chaperone. I guess you can come in if the boy stays with you.”
Niklas nodded in gratitude, but feeling on a roll, Rasmus saw fit to do all of Niklas’ talking for him.
“Mr. Loga extends his most sincere gratitude, Herd Master!”
John shook his head and swore. “You’re a handful, kid!”
Rasmus beamed like an idiot, and John pushed past them as he threw his jacket over his shoulders.
Esther ushered them in, shaking her head, embarrassed. “Forgive him. He doesn’t mean to be rude. It’s just that I get a lot of unlikely men calling after me, and both of my brothers are very protective.”
“I’m not surprised,” Niklas said. “You are very beautiful.”
“I, er...” she stammered as she flushed red. “Um...”
Niklas instantly regretted saying it. He was an idiot. He'd already offended her in less than ten seconds as her guest.
Rasmus, however, solemnly nodded approval like a proud father.
“I’m sorry,” Niklas said quickly. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you. I don’t know what is acceptable to say to a Relrin Moth– a Relrin Woman.”
“No!” she said. “Don’t worry at all, that was just unexpected.”
“Please, tell me if I say something unacceptable.”
“So is that how all Sharderin men speak to women? Your people must be very bold.”
Niklas shrugged. “I wasn't raised around people.”
“Sometimes I still struggle to believe you actually come from Pit.” Esther nodded. “And then sometimes it makes perfect sense.”
“Yeah, my brother and I went to Pit after the genocide. I grew up there.”
“Oh...yes...the genocide.” She would have been a few years old at the time of the genocide. “That was something awful that happened to your people.”
Niklas shrugged. “I don’t remember it very well. I barely remember my mother and my sister.”
“You had a sister?” Esther asked too eagerly, then grimaced as she considered the context of the conversation.
“Yes,” Niklas said unperturbed. “Hanna.” I don’t remember what they looked like. I vaguely remember two shapes in the shadows and blood on the street.” Niklas noticed that Esther had gone pale. My brother is alive!” he redirected. “Maybe you can meet him one day.”
“I would like that,” Esther politely responded. “Are you hungry? I wouldn’t be a proper host if I didn’t care for my guests.”
“Yes, please,” Rasmus said, patting his belly.
“Oh, don’t trouble yourself!” Niklas said, ashamed at his companion's forwardness.
She flashed a grin at Rasmus. “Do you think he means to insult me by refusing food as a guest in my own house?”
“No,” Rasmus sighed, “he’s just really stupid.”
“What?” Niklas regarded them, confused. Had he messed up again?
“I do try to compensate for what he lacks, but it isn’t easy,” Rasmus lamented.
“Oh, give yourself credit,” she said, “I doubt he would have made it past John at the door if not for you.”
“Dear, he wouldn’t have made it to the door without me.”
“So sad. How will he ever learn?” Esther wondered.
“You’ll have to teach him.” Rasmus snickered. “I doubt I would have much luck if I tried.”
A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
“Oh, you are so cute!”
She finally turned back to Niklas. “See that! That’s what I’m talking about! Why are you so stiff? We’re only joking!”
“You are?” Niklas questioned hopefully.
“Yes, but you must never refuse a woman's food if she offered it to you.”
“I’m sorry!” Niklas said soberly.
“I’ll give you a pass. But you will eat.”
Niklas felt his stomach churn—not in hunger but in discomfort at the idea of his mother working to feed him. It was something Mother Lill did every day, but this felt different somehow. “If that’s what you want…”
“It is.”
She turned to prepare something, and Niklas got his first good look at the apartment. It was not as cluttered as the Sommerfeldts; otherwise, it was identical. The apartment was still unfit as living conditions for a mother. There was a long unupholstered bench in the main room, a small kitchen in the back, and three rooms adjacent to the side.
“It’s nice,” Niklas said hopefully. “Your home.”
“It’s a mess. My brothers don’t know how to keep after themselves.” She stopped, looked embarrassed, and stooped down and pick up dirty laundry.
“Stop!” Niklas cried.
“What?”
“Let me,” he insisted as he scooped down to continue the job.
“No, you don’t,” Esther growled as she grabbed him by the collar of his rough shirt and shoved him with surprising force. “You are a guest in my house. And as such, you will not clean up after my brothers!”
Niklas regarded her for a moment before raising his hands. “Okay. I yield. I’ll comply with your directive.”
Esther’s face softened into the sweetest of smiles. “Good.”
Moments later, the apartment transformed as she whisked back and forth, arranging articles of clothing and stacking tools. Niklas could only marvel at her work as she left it much more open and clean when she finished.
“Come,” she commanded as she grabbed him by the hand. Niklas was startled and confused by the gesture. She didn't have to lead him about like that. But she seemed to enjoy it. So did he.
Rasmus cleared his throat loudly, folded his arms over his chest, and glared at them. “None of that now.”
“It seems you have not only the most adorable but the most vigilant chaperone!”
“What can I say? I do take pride in my work.” Rasmus sighed.
She let Niklas go and pulled an apron from a hook on the wall. She looked nervous as she tied it on. She took a deep breath.
Niklas found that amusing. She was cooking, not using a sniper rifle on a critical high-profile target. What was she so nervous about?
“What would you like?” she said.
“Honestly, I’m famished,” Niklas confessed. “I would eat the grubs off a rotting log if I had to.”
She laughed and then got to work.
Niklas watched her work, amazed. He had never seen so much care and effort go into a meal. Honestly, he felt she was over-complicating things. It was just a meal. There was no need to treat it like a war.
Something caught Niklas’ eye.
A small shelf was mounted to the back wall with a handful of small books neatly stacked.
“Can you read?” he asked. He hadn’t seen any books since he lost Edgar’s books back in Pit Two.”
“No,” she lamented, “they belonged to my mother before she died. She was learning.”
“May I?” Niklas asked, and with her nod of approval, he approached the shelves to examine the content.
He smiled as he recognized the first volume. It was written by Julian Ostlund, a famous Sharderin poet from several generations ago.
Niklas flipped through the pages. He recognized most of them and even had a few of the poems memorized. Whoever had translated familiar words into Relric had done a poor job.
He noted one that was highlighted with a folded corner.
Go, my little bird, and see all the feathers,
Each is different, and each has a purpose.
Covet, not my little bird, another fowl’s feathers
For yours and mine, we shall share.
Niklas read out loud.
Esther turned to Niklas with her jaw hanging wide.
“It flows better and rhymes in Sharderic,” Niklas promised as he became aware of how flat it was in Relric.
“Niklas! You can read!”
“Yes.”
“It’s a trick!”
“I can read, Esther,” Niklas explained, somewhat amused by how people seemed to react to that. There wasn’t a Drone back home who couldn’t read and write Sharderic and Relric. Many were fluent in Colgan as well.
“What, how?” she cried. “How did you afford to go to school?”
“Where I am from, school is mandatory,” Niklas said. “Also, your language is easy.”
“You come from the woods!”
“There aren't books in your woods?” Niklas teased. “Why do so few people read here?”
“Education is expensive. I would hardly be here if I could read. Niklas, you could move into the city and get a real job! What are you doing here?”
“I just need to resolve some issues here to go home,” Niklas explained.
Her face fell at that. “Oh yes, you’re leaving.”
“First chance I get.”
A sharp kick to the shins made Niklas yelp in surprise. He found Rasmus shaking his head at him in disappointment. Rasmus’ face told him that he had answered wrong.
“I mean…” Niklas tried to correct himself. “When I’m ready?”
Rasmus threw his hands in the air in exasperation. “I try! I don’t get paid enough to do this.”
“If you can’t read, how did you recognize the verse? Niklas asked quickly, trying to recover from his blunder.
She shook her head sadly. My mother used to read it every night. She was learning, but she never got far. In fact, I’m almost convinced she memorized it and pretended to read it.”
“Hmm,” Niklas grunted, looking over the other books.
“Niklas,” she said solemnly.
Niklas looked back at her.
She took the book from him with near reverence. “Will you teach me?”
“Would you like that?” Niklas asked.
“Oh, ever so much!” she cried. “Then I could secure a good job and pay off the debt. Oh! Then I could take care of my brothers better and have nice things!” She stopped as she realized she was getting ahead of herself. “Niklas, what will it take? I don’t have much. I would bake you cake every day!”
Niklas grimaced at the thought. He hated Relrin cake; the sugar bomb made him feel sick, but he didn’t have the heart to tell her. “That’s not necessary. In my religion, if a woman gives a directive to a man, the man must comply. If I denied your offer, it would be offensive to my god. It would be a sacrilege if I asked for anything in return.”
“Really?” she asked in disbelief. “What kind of pagan are you?!”
Niklas snorted. “You’re the pagan. Have you heard anything as ridiculous as a man-god? Man destroys, women create. How could the creator be a man?”
“Niklas, that’s blasphemy!”
“Kel is blasphemy. But I suppose you don’t want to learn from a pagan, so I’ll just go now.”
“No, wait!”
“Esther, see, that’s what I’m talking about. Why are you so stiff? I’m only joking.” He smiled as he used her own words against her.
She breathed a sigh of relief, and Rasmus winced. “I’ll give you that one, Niklas,” he said.
Niklas nodded at him.
“Can we start now?” she asked eagerly.
“If you wish.”
“Yes, I insist. No. First, you eat.”
Esther was buzzed with enthusiasm as she put the meal together. The potatoes and beef stew smelled amazing, but to Niklas’ dismay, she also placed a steaming Relrin cake before him.
“Gyva’s gift,” Niklas prayed and dished up the food. He started shoveling the food, but Rasmus kicked him in the shins.
“You look like a pig,” the child hissed. “Slow down.”
Niklas looked at Esther, who studied him curiously.
“Are you going to eat?” He asked.
“In a minute,” she assured him. “Rasmus, help yourself.”
The boy dished himself up, and Niklas tried his best to mimic how the boy ate.
Esther watched them eat, which Niklas found curious. She glanced at the cake periodically with her face drawn in concentration.
Out of courtesy, Niklas sliced the corner and took a bite.
“We don’t have much sugar,” she apologized, looking at him worriedly.
“No,” he said in surprise. “It’s actually the best cake I’ve had.” It wasn’t overbearingly sweet as the others he had tasted.
She clapped her hands in delight. “Great. Now teach me how to read, Wildman!”
Niklas spent the next several hours with Esther, scratching figures in charcoal onto the courtyard floor and explaining the sound they made. Rasmus also watched intently but periodically reminded Niklas that he had promised to teach him how to fight first.
After almost making it through the whole alphabet, the grind of the gate on cement announced the presence of a newcomer.
Niklas looked up to see Wilbur enter with his two mercenaries, or martial men, as he had learned their technical title.
Wilbur frowned as he saw Niklas sitting by Esther. His frown deepened as he looked at the ground and realized what Niklas was doing. “So,” he said, “you’re literate.”
“Probably in more languages than you,” Niklas scowled back.
“Esther,” Wilbur said. “I came to call upon you. Dismiss the street grey.”
“Hey!” she cried in protest but looked around rigid and stiff. “Don’t make me do that.”
“He can’t,” Niklas said. “Tell him to be a deck pink elsewhere.”
“Niklas!” she cried. “I can’t do that!”
“Sure you can,” Niklas said. “He doesn’t own you!”
“Esther...” Wilbur said sternly.
Rasmus stepped in front of them. “The honorable Mr. Loga has come to call upon Esther. You must wait your turn, sir.”
Wilbur looked at Rasmus in abhorrence. “Shut up, kid. I don’t have time for a daft corpse child.”
“Wilbur!” Esther shrieked.
“Well, at least I’m not a fragging mother-killing pink!” Rasmus looked at Niklas to confirm that he had used the curses right.
“Esther, you will send them off!” Wilbur looked down on her with dominating eyes.
She shrunk from his glare but stopped when Niklas put his hand on hers.
She looked at Niklas and he smiled at her reassuringly. “He can’t do anything.”
“My brothers were right,” she muttered, still looking Niklas in the eyes.
“What’s that?” Wilbur demanded.
“They were right about you!” She faced the tea mechant. “I don’t want you to call upon me anymore.”
He laughed. “Don’t be so ridiculous. Now hurry up an–”
“No!” she said with resolve. “You go!”
“You can’t be serious!” he gasped in disbelief. “You’re dismissing me? For him?”
“He was here first.”
“And now I’m here!”
“That’s the thing!” she turned to him, finding her confidence. “The moment you enter, I don’t feel safe!”
“And what about him?” Wilbur demanded. “A pagan criminal over a respectable merchant?”
“Stop calling upon me, Wilbur,” Esther pleaded. “My answer is no.”
“I see how it is," Wilbur frowned. "You were using me until he came along. Now that you know he can read, you’ll use him instead.” Wilbur scowled at her but then stopped and started laughing instead.
Niklas didn’t like the shift in Wilbur’s mood.
“I guess this is what I get for pursuing a cow instead of a wolf.”
“Excuse me?” she demanded.
“You have no idea what I’ve done for you. We’ll just see how safe he can keep you.” Wilbur signaled his martial men, and they dismissed themselves with flair.
Niklas turned to Esther to find her visibly shaken. “Hey!” he said reassuringly. “It’s okay. You did well. He has no right to push you around. That’s one thing that I will always hate about Relrins.”
She looked at Niklas, worried. “But Wilbur is a dangerous man.”