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Oratoria: Bury the Dead
12: The magistrate's home || 13: The thing that whispers

12: The magistrate's home || 13: The thing that whispers

The smiling man jumped slightly, taken aback as the young woman before him let out a frightened yelp at his intrusion. The tray she had been carrying hit the ground with a loud clamber. Silver and broken glassware lay strewn across the polished tile floor and the woman who was still regaining her composure, spoke aloud realizing who the man was. Like before to his annoyance she fell down and began frantically picking up pieces of broken glass. “Forgive me, my lord,” pleaded Ava, scooping up every shard she could see, blood from a fresh cut on her hand now smearing on the floor.

Realizing what she was doing, she quickly rubbed the fresh spot away with her own dress. Looking at her, the smiling man rubbed the back of his head somewhat bothered. “Where is the magistrate?”

“Upstairs my lord. At his work. I shall take you to him right away!” she said, jumping up to her feet.

He raised his hand listlessly and said “No, I’ll be fine. I know the way.”

“Uh- uh, yes my lord. Of course,” she curtsied and took the tray covered in broken glass and blood and hurried out into another room out through the side door.

He sighed and went up the stairs. The home was bright and richly decorated. Deep red carpets covered the stairway landings and the walls were adorned with bright vivid tapestries, depicting all manner of odd creature and man. Several swords and blades, some well worn and tested, others ornate and virgin hung wherever else there was space. He reached the top of the stairs and went down the hall and opened the first door. A pudgy man with deeply sunken eyes, almost losing themselves in the recesses of his face, turned to face him; first alarmed and then warily curious as he saw the tall, strangely dressed, smiling man standing before him.

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Esper's eyes shot open as she felt the latest surge of white hot pain rushing through her entire body. It was still dark, but it felt like it was much later than it would be when she usually woke up. Were they gone now? Were the morning hours almost here? What would she do? Her head spun as she tried to process all of the thoughts hitting her freshly awoken mind all at once.

She listened to the noises from outside and then, to her relief, she heard them; the buzzing insects that woke up with her in the morning hours. Their shrill, monotone buzzes echoing through the air, signaling the advent of the daylight hours. It was safe to leave the house. She turned with the wooden shard stuck deeply in her arm, which scraped the top of the bed as she moved. The girl let out a scream, only barely suppressing it out of instinct by tightly pursing her lips shut.

Using the little space she had won, she laid down now on her back, holding her right arm above her bruised chest and slid out carefully from beneath the bed. Feeling her way forward, she took a step over towards the fire pit and felt for the rocks. Esper ran her hand over the edge of the pit several times, but couldn’t find them. Running her fingers through the ash and soot to check there as well, she understood that they were nowhere to be found in the darkness. Something soft fell against her foot. Her dress.

Grabbing it and clamping it underneath her hurt arm, the girl felt around towards the bed for her book, but was unable to find it either. She would have to look once daylight came, there was little she could do now in the dark room. Resolving herself to do so, she rose back to her feet and slowly stumbled towards the door, kicking the overturned table on the way. Only after she had crossed it, did she realize that the floor hadn’t creaked and looked back into the darkness behind herself with concern.

“Daylight,” she repeated to herself, shaking her head. Her thin hand braced her broken body against the inside edge of the open door, the outside world was a little brighter than in here, but only sparsely. Though it should be alright to leave now. Stumbling outside she turned right and went the familiar way down towards the crook. Her eyes darting from side to side in the vague darkness of the shanty town, catching the blurry black shapes of the derelict houses around her. She knew that not all of the windows were shut, nor all of the doors boarded.

The houses ended and she soon found herself weakly stumbling down the familiar bending path towards the crook. Once she felt the gentle vibration beneath her feet, she knew the running water was just ahead and, sure enough, she soon heard the babbling of the tiny stream. Letting her dress fall down from beneath her injured arm, she approached the water and sat down on the dirt near its edge. The air around her was as crisp and earthy as always, and it seemed just a little gentler and kinder the closer she got to the water. Making it just a little easier to breathe near the running current.

She clutched her necklace, her only good luck charm, and ran her weary fingers over its surface for a time. Her hand clutching it tighter with every surge of pain shooting through her other, now limp, arm. The images of the night before flashed through her mind. Soon the darkness around her began to fade and the vision of the world began to grow. It was always a quick thing, like a flame exploding from sawdust. And as the light began to grow brighter and her vision began to become more vivid and clear could she see the state of her arm, which had so far only been made apparent by the agonous burning that she felt.

A large shard of splintered jagged wood from the rickety bed, easily big enough for her to wrap her hand around, was lodged deeply in her arm from the side just above the elbow. The old, dry wood from the bed staining deeply near the bottom, from the blood that had seeped into its pores. Looking to her fingers she gently tried to move them and winced from the resulting throb in her arm. Tenderly she touched the jagged piece impaling her wincing again at the fresh pain it caused. She would have to remove it, there was no other way.

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Knowing what she would have to do now, the girl took a second to breath and then returned to face the clear water of the stream, from which the daylight rays beautifully reflected off. Approaching it, she sat herself down on the embankment and placed her feet into the icy water, causing her body to tense up and then without thinking further about it, dropped herself into the stream. The well trained sensation of blood coursing through her body only barely numbed the sound of her mind screaming in protest at the immersion into the icy water. Her arm stung madly, but the droning blood rush in the rest of her body helped suppress it, even if only mildly.

Esper held herself still in the water for a moment, taking careful measure to breathe in and out slowly and methodically as she had been taught. Only after her body had calmed itself, did she gently lower the rest of herself under the surface. She felt the waters of the river pull her long hair to the side, the messy strands waving and flowing as if seeking to imitate the current. Rising back up to take a fresh breath one more time, she then submersed herself fully anew, breathing out some of that air below to allow herself to sink just a little deeper. This would hurt.

With full force, she grabbed the stuck piece of wood, barely wrapping her fingers around it and tore it out with a single ripping motion. The last of the air in her lungs left her with a violent animal scream, suppressed by the weight of the crushing water above her. Everything in her vision blurred and turned white for a moment. It hurt more than anything she had ever felt before. Her body thrashed without her consent and she kicked and tumbled beneath the surface, convulsing with a wild spasm. Her capability to scream left her as the air ran out and the water instead now rushed into her lungs, as she instinctively gasped for breath.

Pushing herself off of the muddy river-bed, the girl propelled herself to the surface, coughing and spluttering the slightly red water out of her mouth. Her arm felt like it was on fire, as did her head. Putting her weight on her good arm, she jumped and clawed her hand into the wet earth just above, leaving deep scratches in it, as she heaved herself back up onto the embankment. There she lay on the wet grass and rocks, coughing between razor sharp, short, heaving breaths; all the while clutching her profusely bleeding right arm tightly with her left. Fresh blood mixed with the water on her wet skin and coated her lower arm, painting it in its entirety below the elbow with a pale-red tincture.

After a minute, she was able to regain her composure and slowly began to rise to her trembling feet. Esper looked to her wound to gauge it, but could see little more than the red streaming out from it. “My dress,” she thought and picked it up with her toes and kicked it over to a large rock. Kneeling down she placed the bottom of the thin, filthy cloth that was spread widely on the rock and held it down with her knees. Feeling around with her hand for anything sharp, she found a small stone with an edge and began pressing her weight against it, as she ran it over the fraying cloth of the dress.

Soon a tear began to form and it quickly grew longer. She threw the rock to the side and lifted up the top end of the dress in her hand. Placing a foot on top of what remained below she gave a strong pull and a piece of the dress ripped apart, the seams giving way with loud snaps as she tore a roughly circular strand off from the bottom cusp. Picking up the large round ring of cloth that remained, she held it into the cool water of the river for a moment. Then, taking the wet cloth with quivering hands, Esper wrapped it around her bleeding wound. It stung deeply, as soon as she made contact with her skin.

Wrapping it around several times tightly, drawing deep, fast breaths with every touch, she then tucked it into itself; closing the loop. The pain almost seemed to move from her arm to her head as the wet cloth touched her skin. The cloth was already turning red, but it would have to do. She returned to the river once more and knelt down towards it, placing her face into the water taking several long and thirst quenching drinks. The icy water hit her stomach, which having been forgotten thus far, seemingly now cried havoc anew. She drank and then drank more, and soon her stomach’s cries were drowned out by the sloshing of the water inside of her belly.

Several splinters still remained, but she wasn’t able to see them through the large stream of blood. They would have to wait. Getting up, Esper looked to the river “Thank you. Sorry I made such a mess,” and went to put on her dress, which was now somewhat shorter and somewhat more ragged than before. She looked down at it and thought only “Mama will kill me.” Looking back at her arm again, she twitched her fingers, which responded alongside a new wave of hurt. A tingle ran deep in what little muscle her sinewy arm had to offer.

Esper thought of all the other cuts and scrapes she had earned over the years. None of them had ever been like this. It would take a long time to heal, how would she work like this? The thought stuck with her for a moment, as she realized she had to go and she turned and hurried down the road back towards the houses. She stopped, as she realized she wouldn’t be able to move any of the large bodies with only one arm, the hairs on her neck rose up. Papa would be mad if she didn’t work. She hurried now, first stopping at her house.

The inside was about as bad as she had imagined now that there was light to see. The door latch was broken and the frame shattered and violently splintered. The door itself was torn off of the upper hinge, the weight of the construct leaning slanted against the wall, bending the lower hinge far out of shape. Stepping inside, she saw the chaos, the hand-made table was overturned and broken. The old bed was shattered, the straw mattress torn and shredded; the old grass that had been filling it was flung all around the room. Seemingly the only thing still in place was the heavy cauldron, but even that was misaligned.

She looked for the little stones that she used to make fire, they were gone. Esper was unsure if they were scattered around somewhere in the chaos or if they were taken in the night, but they were gone. Rubbing the wet forming in her eyes away, she went to the bed and looked for the book. It was nowhere to be seen. She searched beneath the bed and dug through the rest of the mattress, looked around the cauldron and the doorway. But it was nowhere to be seen.

Esper didn’t want to think about how mama would react when she found out that her book was gone. She would be so upset when she found out that the girl had broken her promise. An intense pang of guilt hit her for her failure, along with a fresh strengthening of the welling of wet in her eyes. Looking down at the floor that she stood upon, she gently placed a meager foot on top of it and pressed down with her weight. It was quiet.

“Where will I stay?” thought the girl to herself. She couldn’t stay here anymore, it wasn’t safe. It would never be safe again. The seal was broken. She took a deep breath and lifted her foot, before turning around to head out the door. One problem after the other. First of all and most importantly, she had to get to work.