Two days have passed, and the nauseous feeling wouldn't go away.

“Will it stop hurting, Telleya?” the young child asked.

“Of course. It will take time, but it'll heal. Unless of course you plan on breaking the other one too,” I said, gesturing to his unbroken arm.

The young boy shook his head quickly, the tears in his eyes unashamed to be seen.

“Good. Now, you make sure to keep it secured. Come see me once a day for awhile so I can check it too,” I said, patting him on the back as I led him to the door.

“Alright. Thanks Telleya,” he said, and he and his timid steps left the healers room.

Watching him go, I noticed that he did indeed walk slow... out of caution. He was worried he'd slip on the sand and hurt his broken arm even more.

If I had been a good healer... and if I had not been a daughter of the House of Derri, I would have told him that he could not work until it was healed. But I couldn't say it. At least not aloud.

The poor boy would go back to work, and most likely would return here again in more pain than before.

If he was lucky, he'd somehow be able to save his arm... but the odds weren't in his favor. If he didn't rest and allow it to heal, it may never go back to normal.

“There will be more. They have everyone working like mad,” my mother said.

I didn't comment, and chose to clean up instead.

The young boy had not been our first visitor today, and my mother was correct... there was going to be many more.

All of the men of the House of Derri, even those too young to be doing such work had been tasked with unloading practically all storehouses.

Even with the lack of men taken into account it was a surprise that we possessed enough stores that even two days wasn't enough to empty them.

Maybe we had more than I thought...

The thought that soon our storehouses would be refilled with new goods... with actual wealth, sickened me.

Why did that stupid Line have to come here? Why now?

If only it had waited a few more years... just another decade or so...

Then...

“Telleya!”

I startled at my name, and the loud voice who had shouted it. Dropping the stack of bandages I had been gathering, I turned to see the old guard who was standing in the doorway.

“You've been summoned by the Grandmother. Come, now,” he ordered.

An order. And not one to comply with leisurely.

I didn't even wait to gather back up the rags I had dropped, nor alert my mother as to why I was leaving... I simply obeyed.

Luckily the guardsman didn't run too quickly, and I was able to keep up. With the pace however, I worried of what I'd find waiting for me.

If I had been summoned because someone had gotten hurt... then he would have told me. As to bring supplies as necessary, at least what little we had.

Yet he hadn't... which meant...

It didn't take long for me to be led to one of the Elder rooms, and I hurriedly tried to catch my breath as the guard knocked on the door.

“Enter!”

The guard opened the door, and while I was still wheezing from the brisk run, I was ushered inside.

He didn't follow however, and shut the door the moment I had entered.

Startled by such a thing, I was more so shocked at the feeling of my sweat.

It was cooling.

Or rather... the room was cool, almost... unnaturally cold.

Why was it so much colder? We hadn't gone underground... maybe some kind of old magic?

“Daughter Telleya here, at your service,” I said aloud as I finished entering.

The only other person in the room was the elder Grandmother, she was near the wall next to a large table.

Rummaging amongst paper, she looked lost in thought.

I remained silent, hoping to prolong my suffering as long as possible. Being summoned by the Grandmother of all people was probably the worst one to be summoned by at the moment...

Any other time, I'd have said one of the men. One who lusted for a younger bed warmer... but right now, with the Line, there was far worse things to be encountered.

“A healer… A worker. A woman. A daughter,” the Grandmother spoke, with her back still turned to me.

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

“Yes...?” I asked, not sure what to say.

“As a daughter, you can tell me of the struggles of living in the House of Derri, can't you?” she asked.

I said nothing, even though I knew I could talk for some time.

“Hmph... And as a worker, of course, means you know the state of our house. Our stores, our stocks... our supplies,” she added.

Still I remained silent, since I knew she was probably not really looking for an answer. After all, she knew said answers even better than I.

“And as a healer, you can tell me how many women of age we possess, can't you?” she asked, gathering a stack of papers into a small bundle.

Now this was one she expected an answer to.

“Depends...” I said softly.

“On if you can answer? Or if we're only talking unwedded women?” she asked, finally turning to me.

My gut sank at her response, and I knew what she wanted to ask... and I didn't know if even I, who hated the women of Derri, was going to be able to answer honestly.

“Well? How many do we have then?” she asked, stepping towards me.

“Unwed, and without children? Thirteen,” I said, hating myself more with every word.

“Thirteen.”

I nodded.

“Including you,” she said.

Another heavy nod.

“As a healer, that means you know full well our condition as a House, doesn't it,” she said.

Opening my mouth to speak, I found no words would come out.

“You don't need to baby me, child. You're a baby compared to me. Speak honestly, I wish to hear the levity of your wisdom,” she said.

My wisdom? More like she wanted to know if I was smart enough to be controlled, or stupid enough to blindly obey.

“This is the last true generation of our house... unless something happens,” I said honestly.

The elder woman finally smiled, stepping even closer. “Personally, I'd say the last generation was the last true one. After all, half your sisters and brothers are now gone, are they not?”

I shrugged, unsure of what to say to that.

“Yet you still remain... Tell me, how is Bormor?” she then stepped past me, and I nearly fell over from her words alone.

“Bormor...?” I tried to think of a good enough excuse, but I knew it was pointless.

“His baths are wonderful aren't they? Not that I blame you. Even when our baths were still full and glistening, they weren't as large as his.”

I did my best not to clench my clothing too tightly, even though I knew it was already obvious. She knew everything... and I had suspected as much, but I hadn't thought it'd result in this...

“I only worked occasionally... and always as a proud Daughter of Derri,” I said softly.

“You can rein in your terror, child. I did not summon you to cast you out nor to chastise you... Least of all for survival,” Grandmother said as I heard the sound of metal clink.

A weapon...? She wouldn't kill me herself... no elder ever got their hands dirty...

“Here, child. Drink while it's still cold.”

The large cup was wobbling in the old woman's hands, and I hurried to grab it out of pure fear she'd drop it and waste its contents. Once in my own hands, I found the cup was already cooling from the cold water within.

“You knew all along then...?” I asked.

“Of course. In fact, I'm proud of it. Do you know how many other children have starved to death in the last few years...? Never mind, of course you do.”

Grandmother took a drink of her own cup, and while she did so I hastily took one myself. The cold liquid was pleasant, and I didn't taste anything wrong with it.

Though I did doubt she'd have poisoned it... water was far too precious for such a thing. If she wanted me dead, or hurt, she'd not waste water to do it.

“Proud of me dishonoring the House of Derri?” I asked.

“Dishonoring? How so child? By surviving? Look at you! You're not sickly, like the other women your age. You're not riddled with mite bites like the rest, or with so little meat the mere wind could break you!” she said, stepping closer.

Studying me, the Grandmother's smile grew as she nodded.

“Let me see you, stand tall,” the Grandmother said, and my body moved without my permission.

She walked around me a few times, studying me. With every step she took, and each time her eyes slid along my body I grew sicker and sicker.

“I see. You do look like her,” she said.

“Like who, Grandmother?” I asked.

“My mother.”

Her answer startled me, and made my mind go numb. I didn't know what to think or say to that.

The odds of me and her being related weren't that farfetched... in fact, she was probably correct... but that didn't mean anything.

“My blood mother isn't related to--” I started to say, but the Grandmother waved me down.

“Your mother is just one of the many grains of sand produced by my sister’s begotten sons,” she said.

It took everything I had to not allow my head to hang low, and to stay standing upward.

“Yes Grandmother,” I simply said, accepting my fate.

“Yes. I may very well be your actual grandmother. This will work well,” she said, happy with herself.

Unsure of what to say, I chose to stand in silence. Not like I had much choice now, no matter what was happening.

“Telleya, as you know our house has been blessed. The Sands have given us a chance, a chance to reclaim what was once ours,” she said as she headed back to the table.

“The Line...” I whispered.

“Came here with a debt. One of our ancestors, whom had traveled away with one of the Lines in the past... a man who most likely had been outcaste and his name struck from the great book of names! The Linesman comes to repay a debt to him! To us!” she laughed, as if enjoying the cosmic joke.

“So... they want women?” I asked softly.

The Grandmother's chuckling came to an abrupt stop, her smile fading away as she stared at me.

“No.”

For a brief moment I didn't believe her, but I could hear the truth in it.

They didn't want women? If so... if so why was I...?

“Then... why?” I started to ask, but paused as she placed her cup down. It caused me to grip mine even tighter.

“They don't want women. They don't even want men. But I need one.”

Her words were nothing good as I stared into her eyes, as she drew even closer.

“I need a daughter. A daughter to save the House of Derri,” she said.

My cup wobbled enough that the little water that remained splashed out a little, but I didn't fear repercussions for wasting it. Instead I only shook my head.

“Yes. I need you Telleya. A daughter wise enough to know her place. A daughter wise enough to survive where others cannot, in this House of Poverty. Wise enough to not get sick, or sold off as a slave,” she continued.

“No...”

Now face to face, the Grandmother gave me a heavy nod. Without a hint of a smile, or a trickle of a laugh, she stared me dead in the eyes.

“I need a Bride.”