Contents
Copyright Page
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twent- Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirt- Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Keep Reading
Author's Note
Social Media
SLAVE’S GAMBLE
Book One of Ordella’s Quest
Jay Stonesmith
Copyright © 2019 by Jay Stonesmith.
All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, businesses, events or locales is purely coincidental. Reproduction in whole or part of this publication without express written consent is strictly prohibited.
jaystonesmith.com
To Jo, Zack and Finn
The best family on Earth and in all Ellusia
One
Ordella scrubbed her brush across the flagstone, first up and down, then side to side. A fine spray flicked off the bristles onto her hands, stippling them with a fresh coat of crimson. She dipped the brush into a bucket of water to her right and inspected the tile. Almost clean, except for one stubborn patch in the center.
She pulled out the brush and, using the corner of its wooden handle, rubbed at the imperfection. It flaked off like a crusty scab. She passed the brush across the tile one last time, dropped it into the bucket, then shuffled backwards, revealing the tile she'd been kneeling on.
Seventy-three.
She risked a glance up. Timmen was already standing by the two huge water barrels in the middle of the chamber. One of them was open, and he was busy arranging a dozen cups on the closed lid of the other. It was nearly time for a water break.
Ordella dragged her bucket closer. She peered along the line. None of the other women were within ten tiles of her, and, of course, her grandmother was moving the slowest of all. She'd wasn't even close to the center of the room. Tile thirty? Tile thirty-five perhaps, but no more. Ordella chewed her lip. Even further behind than yesterday.
She flicked her eyes back to the water barrels. Billy strode over to stand next to Timmen. For her grandmother's sake, it was just as well they were on duty today and not Lord Skerrick.
Tile seventy-three was going to take some work. Blood had pooled to the bottom left corner, soaking into the grime between the stones. Ordella pulled out her brush and tilted it downwards. Water dripped from the bristles, puddling over the stain. She grasped the brush's handle in both hands and forced it back and forth over the rough surface. Rust-colored flakes started to break loose.
She pushed down harder. With each stroke, the patch of congealed blood got smaller. An island of filth eroded by the sea. Ordella washed out her brush again and gave the flagstone a couple more scrubs. It shimmered in the flickering orange light of the wall sconces.
She shuffled the bucket one tile closer to the middle of the room.
Seventy-four.
A whistle sounded, the shrill note reverberating off the chamber's stone walls. Ordella got to her feet and stretched her arms above her head. In silence, the other women filed past her towards the water barrels. She waited until they were beyond her, shielding her from the guards, then she turned around. Her grandmother was crouched on the floor, head bowed.
Ordella sighed and glanced over her shoulder. The other women had formed a line beside the barrels, and Timmen and Billy were ladling water into cups. Rigget, the third guard on duty today, was hunched over his ledger, his lank hair flopping in front of his face.
Good. They were all busy. Perhaps they wouldn't notice.
She took a few tentative steps towards her grandmother, her body tense, half-expecting one of the men to shout her name. She paused. The only sounds from behind were the scraping of Rigget's quill on the page and the slosh of water.
Her grandmother was now sitting on the floor, massaging her back with the palms of her hands, her face set in a grimace. Ordella hurried over to her and knelt down by her side. Her grandmother turned towards her and nodded.
With her hands under her grandmother's frail arms, Ordella heaved the old woman to her feet. There was nothing to her. Just worn skin and brittle bones.
Ordella studied her grandmother's face. When they'd arrived in the Warren, her eyes had been a bright chestnut brown, but now they were dull, and her wrinkled skin was pale and waxy, as if all the color and life had leeched out of her.
Would she even be strong enough to make it to the barrels?
She wanted to tell her everything was going to be alright, but she didn't dare speak out loud. Not here. She draped her arm around her grandmother's shoulder and smiled and nodded. Her grandmother bobbed her head in return and leaned against her granddaughter's arm.
Ordella tensed her muscles, taking as much of her grandmother's weight as she could, and shuffled her around until they faced the water line. Together they took a few teetering steps towards the others.
"Stop!"
Ordella balled her fist and scanned the chamber.
Which one of them had said that?
"Stop right there!" Rigget slammed shut his huge book, got to his feet, and tucked his chair under the fold-up desk.
Ordella tightened her grip on her grandmother. The worst of the three. But at least it wasn't Skerrick.
Rigget smoothed his dark blue tunic and stepped closer.
"What do think you're doing, Ordella?"
She clamped her jaws shut. Now definitely wasn't the time to speak.
"You've been here for years. Surely you know the rules by now?" The guard raised his eyebrows, daring her to respond as he took a step towards them. "Let go of Gwenith."
Ordella kept her arm where it was. If she took it away now, her grandmother was sure to fall.
"Do as he says." Her grandmother's voice was quiet but firm. She shrugged off Ordella's arm. "I was just winded, but I'm feeling much better now."
Ordella slowly withdrew her support. Her grandmother swayed, but somehow her sparrow legs managed to keep her upright. Gwenith's lips were pursed together, her eyes focused on Rigget.
The guard turned back to Ordella and grinned.
"See, Gwenith didn't need your help after all. However"—Rigget stroked his downy mustache with his ink-stained fingers—"you will, of course, both forgo your drink breaks. The rules have been broken and your actions cannot go unpunished."
Ordella clenched her fist at her side. Her nails dug into her palm. For her, missing a water ration was nothing. She could probably work the whole day through without a single break, but she was almost certain her grandmother wouldn't make it without
one. Keeping quiet was always the safest option when you were challenged by the guards, but her grandmother needed water. She didn't have a choice. She had to at least try to reason with him. A response formed in her mind.
Billy cleared his throat.
"Perhaps, Rigget, we should put them to work by the far wall." Billy stepped out from behind the barrels and strode towards them. He raised the water ladle and pointed across the chamber. "It's much harder cleaning over there, and it would certainly teach them a lesson."
Billy looked straight at Ordella. His blue eyes seemed to plead with her to keep quiet.
She bit her lip. What in all Ellusia was he up to? Surely he wasn't trying to make her life more difficult. He'd always been good to her in the past.
Rigget turned to look at Billy. A smirk spread across his face.
"Yes. I like that idea."
He fixed Ordella with a stare.
"Guard Bowyer is right. I was being too lenient." Rigget flicked at them with his blackened fingers. "You heard him. Get to work over by the far wall, and by the time the last whistle has been blown, that part of the chamber had better be spotless, or I'll leave you two here when the doors are opened. I'm sure the Rabbits will find something to do with you."
Ordella couldn't help gazing at the huge doors in the corner of the room. Barred with heavy oak planks and bolted together with iron, they kept the Rabbits out while the chamber was being cleaned. She shuddered. Those lengths of timber were all that separated her from the chaos of the Warren. She'd never seen a living Rabbit up close, but her hands had wiped up gallons of their blood. Her work was hard and mundane, yet nothing compared to the struggles faced by the Rabbits every single day. A lifelong battle to stay alive, cheered on by crowds of bloodthirsty Kelsharlans, braying for slaughter.
"Move it! Now!" Rigget said.
Ordella snapped to attention. She fetched her bucket and then collected her grandmother's. Gwenith took a step towards the far wall, and then another. Her expression didn't change, but even such small movements must have caused her pain.
Ordella caught up with her and positioned herself just in front, timing her walk to match her grandmother's halting gait. If her grandmother stumbled forwards, at least she'd be there to break her fall. They continued on, water splashing from the buckets with every shuffled stride, leaving a trail of drips across the flagstones.
*****
Billy was right. This end of the chamber was much dirtier than the part they'd been cleaning earlier. The tiles were almost completely obscured in places, caked in blood and globules of red and pink and gray. The bloodflies were thick here, too. Their metallic red bodies glinted in the light of the wall torches as they flitted across Ordella's path. Maggots had already begun to bore their way into the putrid heaps of filth, and a rancid odor filled her nostrils.
Bile welled up in the back of her throat. She clamped her jaws shut. She'd never give Rigget the satisfaction of watching her throw up.
She'd cleaned chambers that were dirtier than this, but normally the worst of the filth had been shoveled out before the scrubbers were set to work. Ordella glanced down at the buckets. Brushes and soapy water weren't going to make a dent.
Ordella turned to her grandmother. Gwenith stood with hands on hips. She raised her eyebrows and shrugged.
Where to begin? Ordella surveyed the whole length of wall they'd been ordered to clean. The right corner appeared to be the least heavily soiled. She picked up the buckets and headed in that direction.
"Wait." A man's voice called out from behind her. "You're going to need these."
Ordella stopped and turned around. Billy approached with a bucket of woven sacks, and two shovels under his right arm.
"Thank you," she mouthed. Though they wouldn't have needed them if Billy hadn't piped up and given Rigget the idea. She tried to keep the thought from her face and flashed him her best smile.
The guard grinned in return.
"Now get to work," he said. "But be careful when you lift the sacks out. You never know what'll be hiding underneath." He turned around and walked back to his fellow guards and the other women.
Ordella picked up the buckets and shovels and carried them over to her grandmother. She placed them on the floor and stood in front of the bucket containing the sacks, hiding it from the guards. She certainly didn't want Rigget and Timmen seeing whatever was at the bottom.
She removed the sacks one by one and laid them on the flagstone floor by the wall. She lifted the last one, and her hand brushed something cold and smooth. She reached in and pulled out a bulging waterskin. He had come through for her after all. Ordella fished out the skin and took a large gulp. Billy had a good heart, for a Kelsharlan.
She passed the water skin to her grandmother. Gwenith took the pouch in both hands and brought it to her lips. Ordella smiled as her grandmother took a series of tiny sips. Billy might just have saved the old woman's life.
Ordella returned the skin to the base of the bucket and covered it over with one of the sacks.
Over the next few hours, Ordella and her grandmother fell into a steady routine. Ordella shoveled the foul-smelling material into the sacks and Gwenith followed behind with a bucket of soapy water and a scrubbing brush.
Ordella's hands were tough and calloused from cleaning tiles every day, but the rough wooden shovel handle rubbed her skin in different places. Her palms were now raw, and she winced with every grueling swing and scrape.
Ordella filled the eighth sack, then placed it on the ground. A cluster of bloodflies flew into the air. She batted them away from her face, then grabbed hold of the top of the sack. With a piece of twine, she tied the sack closed, hefted it onto her shoulder then walked it over to the corner of the chamber and set it down next to the other full sacks.
Something black darted in front of her feet and scooted between two piles of gore she'd yet to clear. A rat, and a large one, too.
She checked over her shoulder. The other women had long since returned to their work. Rigget was hunched over his ledger, and Billy and Timmen were leaning against the water barrels, deep in conversation. She wasn't being watched. Now was her chance.
Ordella stepped to her right. The rat had stopped moving, but it hadn't yet noticed her. She risked another movement, positioning herself so the animal was between her and the wall. The rat's whiskers twitched. It lifted its front legs off the ground then sniffed the air.
Ordella sprang forwards. The rat pivoted, and Ordella adjusted her dive. She reached out with her left hand and clamped her fingers around the animal's torso. Raising her right hand, she wrung its neck in one swift motion. Its body went limp.
With her back to the guards, Ordella placed the rat in the secret pocket sewn to the inside of her tunic. Her grandmother had crafted it for just such occasions, although it had been weeks since she'd been able to catch one for Merisca's cooking pot. Tonight, however, providing the guards hadn't seen her, there'd be a piece of meat for everyone. She flattened the tunic as best she could, picked up a new sack and returned to the patch she'd been working on.
Ordella hefted the shovel. She was just about to slide it under a fresh heap of filth when something poking out of the corner of one of the tiles made her stop mid-swing.
She set down the shovel and squinted. Surely not? It couldn't be. She bent down. A tiny white toadstool was growing out of the blood-sodden dirt between the tiles. It was shorter than her little finger, and it's bone-white flesh glistened.
Ordella's heart pounded. She'd found one. She'd actually found one. What else could it be?
With a trembling hand, Ordella reached towards it. There was only one way to be sure. Grasping the toadstool's delicate stem, she picked it, snapping it off as close to the floor as she could. A slimy deep-red liquid dripped from the broken stalk. Odella touched the sap with her fingers, then wiped them clean on her tunic. It was definitely a bloodcap.
Ordella turned the toadstool upside down. Its sap pooled at the base of the stalk. S
he placed it on the left-hand sleeve of her tunic and turned the cuff over a couple of times, trapping her find in the folds. She inspected her work. A few red spots had already begun to soak through the worn fabric. The guards probably wouldn't notice, but, just to be sure, she reached down, rubbed her hands against the dirty tiles, and smeared the filth over the cuff.
She took a deep breath. The guards were in exactly the same positions they'd been in before. They almost certainly hadn't seen what she'd found, but her heart still raced in her chest. The sooner she could get back to the Hutch and stow the bloodcap somewhere safer, the better.
Ordella glanced at her grandmother. She was hunched over, scrubbing at one of the tiles. Ordella tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and took another long breath. If she could only smuggle the bloodcap out of the chamber, her grandmother's days of suffering would be over.
She arched her back. A warmth spread through her aching muscles and the raw skin on her palms seemed to burn with less fire than they had just moments before. Everything would be different now. She wanted to dance over to her grandmother, wrap her in her arms and tell her not to worry anymore. Everything was going to be alright. The Warren's heavy yoke would soon be slipped from their necks. But she couldn't celebrate yet. Not until they were on their own back in the Hutch.
Ordella picked up her shovel. She had to forget all about what she had hidden in her sleeve and carry on as normal. No one could know what she'd found. At least, not yet. She stepped to her right and dug into another pile of rotting foulness.
A shrill blast from Timmen's whistle filled the chamber, and the rhythmic grind of bristles on tile came to a halt.
"Time to stop," Rigget said. "Brushes in buckets, and line up behind Guard Timmen."
Ordella placed her shovel against the chamber's wall and picked up the bucket containing the remaining unused sacks and the water skin. Her grandmother was struggling to push herself up off the floor, but Ordella couldn't risk helping her again. She bit at her lip, willing the old woman to stand.
Just get through today, Grandmother. Make it back to the Hutch and everything will be different. I promise.
Slave's Gamble Page 1