Ness bit her lip. She did wish to see it. She wanted to see more of the people, wanted to see how they lived and how they worked so that, perhaps, she could find a place amongst them.
Olivar hadn’t wanted to take her. She wasn’t certain why, but she hoped it wouldn’t displease him should she ask to go with Alindra. But, she comforted herself, they would have to pass him and Bendan before they made their way out, and there would be time to ask him.
And if he showed any sign that he did not think she should be allowed, she would not go—though something told her Alindra would be severely displeased at that.
The woman was kind, in a brusque, efficient sort of way. She almost reminded her of Nell. And she regretted not knowing the older woman better, and now...
Now she would never see her again.
She did not want to miss knowing her first not-mistress out of fear.
“I would like to go with you,” she answered finally.
And when Alindra gave her the brightest smile yet, she realised she had answered rightly.
13. Outing
“Are you certain this is the wisest idea?” Olivar asked, giving the both of them a dubious look.
Alindra bristled, her eyes narrowing and her hands clasping into loose fists. Ness looked at her nervously before taking a shuffling step backward. She didn’t want trouble, and she was reminded of her determination. If Olivar did not think they should go out without him, she would gladly stay home. She wouldn’t risk upsetting him, nor did she want to chance any other becoming her keeper.
Not when she liked the one she had so very much.
She shook her head, trying to dispel that thought as quickly as it had come. Such opinions were dangerous, such attachments forbidden.
Or were they?
She tucked away the small hope that maybe, just maybe, it would be permissible amongst the Onidae, but reminded herself firmly that it was far safer to be practical.
“And why would it not be wise? You think I am going to get her into trouble?”
Olivar gave a quick glance to his brother, giving Ness the impression that he was looking for assistance, but Bendan was smiling broadly—with much more amusement than she had ever seen from him. Was there something enjoyable about tension between Alindra and Olivar? Ness couldn’t imagine what it might be.
“No,” Olivar answered slowly, his eyes settling on Ness. “But there is so much she doesn’t understand, and...” he sighed, his shoulders slumping. “What if I miss something important?”
Ness looked at him, her mouth already beginning to open to rescind her willingness to go. He was obviously nervous about the prospect, and she felt guilty that they were interrupting the important smithing yet again.
But then he shook his head. “You are right,” he said at last. “I am being ridiculous. Just... please keep her with you. I do not want her to become lost.”
Alindra looked ready to give another biting retort and Ness braced herself, but suddenly she softened. “I think I am beginning to understand the challenges you have had, Olivar. So you needn’t fear. Ness will keep right with me, yes?”
She turned, giving Ness an expectant look, and she nodded, her eyes flitting between her keeper and the not-mistress.
Olivar gave her a sad smile. “I did not know you wanted to explore or else I would have offered to take you sooner.”
She hated the look in his eye, the frustration that was hidden there beneath a layer of self-recrimination. He had done no wrong, but evidently he did not see it as she did. “I can wait,” she told him, wanting him to know that she was willing to, if he wished to be there.
But he shook his head, gesturing toward Alindra. “I am not so jealous that I have to be your only friend, Ness. So you will go, and hopefully learn a few things.” He took a step toward her, and she got the impression that he wanted to touch her again, but she was freshly washed and his hands were dirty. “Your hair is lovely, by the way.”
Ness’s cheeks turned crimson and she stared down at the floor, unable to look at him as he liked when he gave such a compliment. Her hair had been drenched in the tumble in the basin, and Alindra had offered to tend it as her bandaged hand had made the task a difficult one.
She had combed it gently and created a much more elaborate braid than Ness had ever learned.
She touched it again delicately, liking the tidy creation. She wondered if it was a style unique to the Onidae and found that she liked the prospect of it. She wanted to belong here, wanted to learn their ways and model their custom, even if she was an unworthy choice to share it with.
“Alindra did it,” she told Olivar. “She is skilled.”
Olivar smiled. “You provided very fine material for her to use.” Ness’s blush deepened further at both his words and the realisation that Bendan and Alindra were staring at them both.
She shuffled her feet, hating that she felt awkward when in truth she wished only to bask in the attention Olivar paid her. Perhaps venturing into the town was not so very favourable—not if staying here meant many more of these sweet talks.
But Bendan interjected, a smile in his voice. “You had better take her away Linnie, before we get no more work done at all and poor Ness’s cheeks burst into flame. Poor girl has been burned enough, I think.”
Alindra rolled her eyes, and to Ness’s surprise, she placed a kiss on Bendan’s cheek. “Ready, Ness?”
Ness looked to Olivar, a small, dangerous part of her wishing she could bestow a similar gesture.
The thought disturbed her, shame mingling with mortification that she should be so foolish. “Yes,” she murmured quickly, not waiting to be led out but instead escaping out the door before she was tempted by any further thoughts.
She wanted to kiss a...
Not a master.
Not a thrall.
She wanted to kiss a friend?
That did not seem like any safer an idea, friendship itself even forbidden.
Alindra appeared at her side, eyeing her curiously. “I forgot to ask if your hip would be all right walking so far.”
Ness nodded, needing the distraction. There was a lingering ache, a reminder that she should favour it for a while, but not nearly enough to keep her from exploring her new surroundings.
Especially when going back to Olivar’s would mean being susceptible to such thoughts again.
“It will be fine,” she affirmed, just in case Alindra needed her to say it aloud.
“Good. But you can tell me if it starts to be a bother and we will come home, all right?”
Ness wondered if Olivar had cautioned her that being overly specific with instruction was necessary. She gave another nod, and Alindra seemed to accept that well enough. “Right, then. Where should we go first?” She turned, apparently expecting an answer, but Ness merely stared back at her. Alindra gave a sheepish little smile. “Oh. Yes. Well. There is my house, I suppose, but I cannot imagine what would be particularly interesting about that. What about the harnel? Have you seen that yet?”
Ness shook her head. The word was vaguely familiar, but she could not place the context. “Is that one of your words?” she asked in lieu of giving an opinion on the destination.
“Harnel? Yes. I am afraid I do not know a Naradian word for it. It is a place for... gathering, I suppose you could say.” An image of the Great Hall came to mind, and Ness’s steps were a little more reluctant as she followed Alindra on to this... place.
They gathered there, the thralls brought to witness a punishment or to hear a new order from the Commander. There had been so much blood spilled that the dirt in the centre had taken on a permanently darkened hue.
She swallowed, pushing away those thoughts. This was likely what Alindra had meant. Ness was quick to supply what she’d known, but so far that had mostly proven wrong.
“What kinds of gatherings?” she asked. It felt wrong to ask for clarification as it suggested the speaker had not supplied enough information in the first place, but perhaps she was
mistaken in that too. Maybe they liked to be prompted.
“Oh, all sorts, I suppose. Many meet at the end of a day’s work. There are drinks and food, and we talk and commiserate. That sort of thing.”
Ness’s brow furrowed. That sounded more like the commissary than the Great Hall. But knowing that made her relax all the same. It was not exactly the same, of course, because the thralls did not sit around and speak during their meals. They simply sat, eating their portions while trying not to be envious of what remained in the bowls of another.
“Did you have a place like that?” Alindra asked, turning her head slightly to see Ness better. She slowed her steps as well, realising that her long legs were making the gap between them grow, and Ness recognised that she intended for them to walk shoulder to shoulder rather than with her behind. Evidently that was something she shared with Olivar.
“Not... exactly,” she answered slowly. “We had... that is... there is the commissary. Where we would... where they eat,” she finished, feeling awkward. Was she to hold herself apart from the others now? She didn’t feel that way. She was as much a thrall as she had ever been, regardless of what the Onidae wished to call themselves masters or not. It was only because of Olivar’s kind heart that she had been taken from the rest her kind in any case—it could just as easily have been another thrall here, struggling just as she was to determine their place.
“Commissary,” Alindra repeated, testing the word in her mouth a few more times as if committing it to memory. “I will try to use that instead,” she told Ness, as if assuring her that she would learn it.
Ness bit her lip. She liked learning a word of the Onidae, but didn’t know if it was appropriate to correct Alindra. She supposed there could not be great deal of harm in trying. Alindra did not seem particularly murderous. “I... I like to learn your words,” she said, perhaps a little more softly than she should. “If it is all right.”
Alindra merely smiled. “If that is what you want,” she replied easily.
Alindra was quiet for a little bit and though Ness fretted that she’d done something wrong, she decided against worrying too much. Alindra seemed a very direct sort of person, and surely she would speak up if Ness had given offence. They continued to walk, Ness’s gait a little slow given her bruised hip, but Alindra did not complain.
“This is my home,” she said at last. “Which is also where I make the boots.” She nodded down to the ones on Ness’s feet, and Ness followed her eye line. She was pleased that she hadn’t scuffed any of the fine leather, at least not on the tops. She would still make an effort to ensure Alindra did not see the state of the bottoms.
It seemed to be situated much like Olivar’s home. From the large window in the downstairs she could see tools and forms, boots scattered about, some in tidy lines, others thrown rather haphazardly. Alindra did not take them in, only allowed her to look through the window before moving off. Still, she did not speak much, and Ness’s wariness grew.
She remembered Bendan and Olivar, how they appreciated prompting with their talk, and she swallowed, deciding perhaps that was simply a way of the Onidae. And she had promised to learn.
“How did you learn to make them?” she asked, hoping it was allowed.
Alindra glanced at her in some surprise. “My...” her brow furrowed. “I do not know the word. My... father’s father?” She looked to Ness expectantly, and she nodded that she understood. “He taught me. It was his trade. It was supposed to go to one of his children, of course, but Father died when I was very young and his sister had no want of it. So it became mine.” She said that easily enough, but Ness watched her carefully. There was talk of loss, in that, though she could not imagine mourning the loss of kin herself. To mourn was to have bonds, to have known them, and though she supposed she missed the idea of a mother, she could not conjure up true grief.
“I am sorry,” she said regardless, because it seemed a proper thing to respond with.
Alindra smiled, a little sadly. “I miss my taiden more than my father, I think. Though I would never admit that to my mother. He taught me everything I know.”
Ness continued to study her, saw the slight tightening of her jaw, the squint of her eyes. The pain of that loss lingered still.
Ness looked down at her good hand, contemplating. She liked it so very much when Olivar reached out and touched her when she was sad. It was a vivid reminder that she was not alone—not anymore.
But was that permitted with a not-mistress?
Olivar thought it was permitted with a thrall.
And she supposed the only thing she could do was try.
So with a careful hand, she laid it on Alindra’s arm, giving it a barely-existent squeeze. “I am sorry,” she repeated.
Alindra looked down at her arm, not in disgust like Ness feared, but with some measure of surprise. But then she covered Ness’s hand with her own, patting it gently. “It is silly of me, to mourn him still. You have lost everyone and everything, and yet I...”
Ness grimaced at that, not wanting to contradict but finding that she must. She shook her head, and Alindra fell silent. “I have lost nothing,” she told her truthfully. “For I had nothing at all. It is only here that I have anything to call my own.”
“Then I hope you have lots of things,” Alindra replied with conviction. “Not just boots. But... but friends in abundance.”
Ness blinked at that. She would settle for one of those—especially if it would be Olivar—but she supposed to have more... that could be a pleasing thing. She tried to find the words, to say that aloud and confirm that she would appreciate any who wished to be called her friend, but they would not come. And Alindra seemed to notice that for she gave her hand a squeeze.
“Come,” she insisted. “I will buy you something at the harnel and maybe that will help us both.”
There was the familiar catch in her stomach at the idea of these kind people sacrificing more of their coin and goods just for her, but she said nothing. They seemed so happy to do it, and Olivar did not like her arguing about it, so she kept silent.
And followed along, watching the people, admiring the buildings.
And wondering how long before this would start to feel like home.
“Two...” Alindra’s nose scrunched up as she spoke with the new woman. She was taller even than Alindra, and Ness realised she had spoken truly when she said she was rather short for an Onidae. “Crempets. And a tishane.”
The woman took the order with a harried smile. The room was full of people, few chairs remaining open. But Alindra had navigated the space with precision, and she and Ness were perched in two high-back, cushioned chairs.
Ness’s feet did not touch the ground, dangling awkwardly, and she was glad of the small table between them that covered most of her appendages.
She had been of a fairly good height amongst the thralls. Not... not the best, of course. But perfectly normal. Not here, though.
She wondered if she would fit in better with the children. She did not know why that thought troubled her.
“I hope you will like it,” Alindra commented, appearing genuinely worried that Ness would find it displeasing.
“There is not much I dislike,” Ness assured her. She might not... like everything, especially that brew Olivar liked to drink, but she would even stomach that if there was nothing else. Preference was a luxury, one she had not had time to cultivate for herself.
Alindra settled back in her chair, tucking one leg up beneath her as she did so. Everything was so easy with these people, the only hint of ceremony she’d seen was in greeting the Caern. She shivered, hoping she would not see him here.
“So, what do you think?” Alindra asked, eyeing Ness thoughtfully. “I hope it is not too overwhelming for you.”
Ness tried to mimic her posture, tried to relax her shoulders and ease into the comfort of the cushions. It grew easier when she finally conceded and tucked her legs up beneath her, following Alindra’s example that she wouldn’t be in
trouble for doing so. She closed her eyes briefly, absorbing the sounds of mingled talking, the sounds merging into a thrum of undecipherable harmony.
It was different, to be certain.
She was used to silence, to whispers, to barked orders.
Not this.
There was a fire burning lowly in the corner, the stone hearth wide to accommodate a much larger flame. But this one was small, in accordance with the warmth of the day outside, and she was grateful. But the smell of wood-smoke mingled with the spices of the food on adjoining tables was equally pleasing, and she decided she quite liked this place.
No one stared beyond a few flickers of surprise when first she’d entered, and though she’d grown nervous that some would approach and object, none had done so.
She was simply lost amongst the Onidae, waiting for foreign food and drink, as if she actually belonged.
She gave Alindra a true smile, opening her eyes again. “It is very good,” she determined, incredibly glad Alindra had decided to come check on her. It was much more preferable being here than to being alone with her thoughts without Olivar for company.
Her eyes drifted across the occupants again, taking in the clothing, the mannerisms. Alindra had been correct—the things Olivar had purchased for her were much more similar to what the other women were wearing than what he had plucked from his own wardrobe. The hems of their tunics went to their ankles, though long slits revealed the leggings they wore beneath. Their arms were mostly bared as well, though some had pinnings of extra fabric that she found most elegant as it skimmed over their taut arms.
She had to keep from peeking at her own, scrawny things. These were a strong people, and comparing herself to them would only leave her feeling even more inadequate than she already knew herself to be.
She spied someone a little familiar sitting off to one corner. Her eyes lingered a little longer on him, and she decided that he must have been on the boat with her when she’d initially been taken from the Narada. She couldn’t remember his name, but didn’t think that he’d ever even spoken to her.
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