Chapter 17

Salt and Water

The rest of the day passes without incident. At least for me it does. That little kid who is friends with Gori took a misstep while we carried the lifting stones, his ankle snapped like a stomped-on twig.

A couple of hall-two boys tried to help him to the tower, but Qesh made them leave him. The kid is pretty tough, he limped over there on his own without complaint, even if it took most of an hourglass.

I manage to hide the coin without anyone seeing it at breakfast time. Fortunately, everyone is used to me keeping to myself, and only responding to things with monosyllabic grunts. It is weird to think of something so small being valuable, even if only a little bit. Small is good though, small means easy to hide.

Once I get a chance to be unobserved I slide it inside one of the many holes in the hay padding atop my cot. It can hardly get less comfortable, so I plan to cram as many coins as I can reasonably conceal in there.

If the foreign boy is as good as his word anyway. While I know what he paid is probably nothing to him, I can't shake the idea that this is a trick of some sort. No one pays slaves. Why on the seven worlds would they?

Skills training in the afternoon goes well. There are only a few kids who can still push me, but I mostly hold back. Focusing on doing things as perfectly as I can rather than just beating the boys around me.

The whole day and well past dinner I can't shake the feeling that I am being set up by the foreign boy.

Yet when I arrive the next morning Xael and Kalon are there warming up. Thankfully only warming up. I am not looking to interrupt another tender moment. We train, he pays us another of the same coin, and I go hide it before morning sessions begin. Today is morning weapons practice, with afternoon and evening training focussed on building strength. It always rotates around like that on some pattern I have never bothered to learn.

I do however learn that Xael’s sister is just as weird as him. I think it must be a cultural thing, as though they don’t quite understand what a slave is.

That afternoon Harrk has us doing some of the most rigorous strength training in our regimen. Divided around the yard depending on what exercises we are doing at the time. Usually, it is some variation of lifting something huge in an explosion of movement, and then holding it there.

My group is doing squats while holding an iron ingot in each hand. The metal is heavier than it looks, but the real issue is that we have to keep our arms extended out in front of us. If you bend them more than a little and Harrk or one of the other guards notices you will get a few bruises if you are lucky. The whole group will have to start the exercise count from the beginning again if you aren't.

I'm bigger than most and considered on the strong side. It doesn’t make a difference. In no time I'm cursing and shaking with weakness. Just the same as the other boys.

We don’t stop exactly, no one is that stupid. But when Xael’s sister marches into the training yard in her weirdly heavy dress, and hair cover, trailed by at least a dozen domestic slaves we do kind of slow down. I've been here eleven years, practically my whole life and I can say with certainty this has never happened before.

The slaves behind her are carrying bucket after bucket of water.

Harrk is in his mask, but I am confident the stunned look that every pit slave in the yard wears is mirrored under there. Still, the second master of guards recovers quickly, moving to intercept the girl and her attendants.

“Lady Ilexa….what can we do for you?” the deferent tone in his voice makes me smirk. I don’t mind Harrk for the most part, but after being yelled at by him all day it's nice to see him act humble. It's nice to see any of the guards knocked down a peg at any point if I’m honest with myself.

“The staff and I were watching from the manse, and we thought you and your students looked thirsty.”

I was under the impression a staff was another name for a stave, but from the way she gestures I understand she means the domestics. The other strange thing is the sheer amount of contempt she manages to stuff into the word ‘students’. Does she have some kind of problem with the way we are being trained? The fact that we get training at all? I don’t know.

Harrk seems to understand better what she is talking about, as he clears his throat awkwardly before replying.

“Well, standard BloodRock procedure is we water the pit slaves only once a day outside of meal times.”

The foreign girl stares at him like he is stupid.

“Atar’s strange desire to waste money by killing these boys aside, we both know you can’t stop me. So I would advise you just enjoy a refreshing drink of water and not make a fuss.”

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The masked man stares at her silently for a moment, before a single harsh laugh echoes from behind the metal.

“Right you are Lady,” he says stepping aside to let her pass.

“Good” she replies with a kind smile. “ Oh and make sure you have some salt too, you need salt after a hard day.” She looks over her shoulder “ Tullulah, the salt please.”

From the back of the domestics, a girl carrying not a bucket, but a sack emerges.

I wonder if everyone else is as confused as I am, wouldn’t salt just make us more thirsty?

“Salt?” asks Harrk. Confirming he has just as little idea of what she is talking about as I do.

“Yes, people have salt inside them that comes out when you sweat. It helps if you replace a little of it sometimes.” Ilexa’s accent makes it hard to tell if she is condescending to the guard, but her expression is bright, excited to impart knowledge.

Maybe that's true. Sweat does taste salty, maybe it is like when they feed us blood stew to help us recover our own lost blood. Yeah alright, that makes sense. Guess I’ll be what? Drinking some salt water?

Regardless we all owe the girl a debt of thanks as moments later Harrk calls out the four words we are all dying to hear.

“Take a rest boys!” There is a collective sigh from every pit slave in the yard.

He looks about for a moment before adding.

“ Don’t touch the domestics, any of you start putting hands where they don’t belong and I’ll have you running till sun up.”

I doubt anyone really needs the reminder. If one of the boys costs the rest of us a water break he won't live long enough for Harrk to punish him.

Xael’s sister and the domestic carrying the salt make their way to the center of the yard. After which the rich girl clears her throat and calls out instructions to us.

“Each of you needs to come grab a pinch of salt, drop it on your tongue, and then the House staff will give you a cup of water.”

She keeps using that word ‘Staff’. Maybe northerners use that word to mean slave. But if thats the case it's only whatever country she is from, as no other northerner I've ever met says it.

Harrk shouts again.

“You heard her! Line up!” Tossing the ingots aside, I’m one of the first to make my way over. You are supposed to put lifting items down slowly, but I can’t be bothered with it right now. There is some jostling for position as always, but once the line settles I’m only fifth back. Not bad considering there are almost seventy of us.

I watch the first few boys get their little handfuls of salt and force them down. They get a full cup of water after though. I can already tell the trick will be to not finish the cup in one swallow. The first mouthful will be to wash the taste of salt out of my mouth.

When It's my turn I take a moment to look at both the domestic slave portioning out the salt with a wooden spoon and the freewoman running this weird little process.

“Why are you doing this?” I ask before taking my allotment of the white seasoning.

She smiles at me, it's pretty but somehow strikes me as disingenuous.

“ You all looked thirsty,” Ilexa replies magnanimously. “ I wanted to help.” I stare at her for a few heartbeats trying to figure out what the angle is. Eventually, I shake my head, clearly not going to get a satisfactory answer. Tulluluh tips the salt into my hand and I do my best to swallow it. Not the most pleasant thing that I’ve ever eaten, but it beats biting someone’s bone in half. As predicted a significant portion of the salt sticks to my mouth, filling it with an overly bitter taste.

My plan for the water works, though the first mouthful is still awful enough that I consider spitting it out. Of course, I don’t. Water is water, and this drink of mine is still better than sharing warm muddy water with beasts of burden. Handing the clay mug back to the Domestic who gave me my water I stride away from the line and sit on the sand stretching my aching legs out.

Forget getting water first, this is the true advantage of being near the start of the line. An extended rest while I waited for the other boys to get their gross salty water.

It isn't long later when I spot Gori getting his own drink. I'm surprised to see him so close to the front of the line, but I suppose as one of the older boys he is pretty big. Even if he fights worse than a drunk Domestic.

When he's done with his water I call the antlered boy over.

“Hey, Gori. You are pretty smart, figure something out for me.”

He shrugs and pads over to me.

“I'm better than pretty smart.” He says with a grin. “ my genius is unparalleled.”

I snort. “Yeah, yeah great use your unparalleledness and answer this. Why does she call the Domestics staff? Isn't a staff a stave?”

The other cursed boy blinks a few times, causing me to worry he has once again gotten his hands on some Karata. But no he's not inebriated, he is just amused.

“Yes a staff is a stave, but it's also a fancy word for servants.”

“Servants?” I frown back at him. “ They aren't servants, they are Domestic slaves.”

Gori nods “She also called us students. If you ask me. I think our pretty water-bearing guest doesn't like the word slave.” my frown only deepens, but Gori goes on. “ Perhaps she finds the idea distasteful.” He grins the stupid lopsided grin he does when he thinks he is saying something really clever. “ I certainly find it that way.”

I'll admit that draws a laugh from me. I imagine most slaves find the concept fairly distasteful.

“If she can't stand even saying the word slave, why on the seven worlds would she come to Far Mantys?”

Gori offers another shrug. “Now that, even my genius cannot answer.”

I glance over at the girl. She's standing next to Tullulah, just supervising the line of boys, even offering them the occasional kind word.

When I return to weight training there is a recurring thought bouncing around inside my head, that stays with me for the rest of the time in the yard.

‘What is going on with these foreigners?’

I've met foreigners before of course. These two though are just strange. Really strange. It makes my fur stand on end. I can't figure out what with such little information, but I am increasingly confident the siblings are up to something.

It is almost a week later when Qesh stops me from attending afternoon skills training that I get another clue.