peace and calm, but the
voice wouldn't let her go there. Why wouldn't it leave her
alone?
Then sound exploded in her ears and
suns-light blinded her. She heard arguing voices, a flapping noise,
and the deep bong of a bell. Nothing made sense, until her eyes
focused on Farq's face, inches from her own.
"Get up, you worthless girl."
She couldn't move. Every part of her
hurt.
Arms grabbed her and heaved her to her feet.
When she put weight on her left leg it gave way and she cried out.
They dragged her across the deck and bounced her down step after
bone-jarring step, across the main deck, and onto the steep ladder
belowdecks. She tumbled down the ladder, crashed to the floor, and
passed out.
* * *
She opened one eye and groaned. The other
didn't want to work. She gently touched the skin around it, finding
it puffy and sore. Every muscle ached, especially her jaw and left
leg. A bandage had been wrapped across her cheek, across the top of
her head, and under her chin. She smelled pungent vegetables
instead of chemicals and lay in her scheepa, rocking gently side to
side.
An attempt to get up resulted in her leg
giving way. Howling, she fell to the floor in a heap, then slapped
the deck. I hate this place! Everything she did went wrong
or ended up with her being punished. It wasn't fair.
Memories of home flooded back. Her mother had
worked her hard but had never been cruel. While her father had been
meaner, he'd never hit her. His raised voice had been enough for
her to do as she was told. All of that was gone. She had to get off
the ship, but how?
Cook appeared in the doorway, a globelight in
her hand. Lissa cowered against a post.
"Get up, child," the old woman said in a
quiet voice. "Sit up there."
Lissa hopped on her good leg across to a
crate and perched on the edge. She peered at Cook with one eye.
"You're a stupid, careless girl. Farq has
killed men with his bare hands. He'll do worse than give you a
black eye next time. Can't you just do as you're told for once?"
She clutched Lissa's jaw with a bony hand and scrutinized her face
and eye.
Lissa sniffed. She didn't know what to
say.
"You'll live. Let this be a lesson to you.
Now go clean and sharpen all the knives, and mind you put 'em back
in the right place. I'll be along to check. If you do it properly,
you can eat supper. And, Gods, you smell, girl. I'll have Branda
show you the showers in the morning."
"Yes, ma'am," Lissa said. That, at least, was
something to look forward to.
It seemed to take forever for her to limp
into the galley. She was glad that her leg wasn't broken. Having to
spend more time in the infirmary was certain to get her another
beating. The room was empty. She heaved a sigh of relief, not yet
ready to deal with Alice again. Determined to do something right,
she pulled out every item of cutlery, laying them neatly on the
table with the most light. Her swollen eye itched, but she tried to
put it out of her mind and concentrate. First, she scrubbed the
rust off each knife, and then drew it through the sharpener a dozen
times. Once she could effortlessly slice a hoobin-beet, she moved
on to the next.
At the end, she arranged the knives neatly in
their drawers, ordering them by size. There was no sign of Cook so
she fixed herself a plate of bread crusts, cold jab-bird meat and
cheese. She chewed delicately and slowly, her jaw aching with every
bite, but she was starving, so she softened her sandwiches in
water. The soggy pieces tasted awful, but her full belly felt
good.
She yawned, and then groaned with the pain in
her cheek. She massaged it. Her leg throbbed, but she didn't dare
leave until Cook returned. To pass the time, she peered into every
drawer and cupboard, memorizing its contents. That done, she
expanded her search into the small room next door, barely large
enough for a work surface and a small oven. In a corner stood a
tall urn for making jalak-brew and the walls were lined with shelf
upon shelf of neatly labeled containers.
voice wouldn't let her go there. Why wouldn't it leave her
alone?
Then sound exploded in her ears and
suns-light blinded her. She heard arguing voices, a flapping noise,
and the deep bong of a bell. Nothing made sense, until her eyes
focused on Farq's face, inches from her own.
"Get up, you worthless girl."
She couldn't move. Every part of her
hurt.
Arms grabbed her and heaved her to her feet.
When she put weight on her left leg it gave way and she cried out.
They dragged her across the deck and bounced her down step after
bone-jarring step, across the main deck, and onto the steep ladder
belowdecks. She tumbled down the ladder, crashed to the floor, and
passed out.
* * *
She opened one eye and groaned. The other
didn't want to work. She gently touched the skin around it, finding
it puffy and sore. Every muscle ached, especially her jaw and left
leg. A bandage had been wrapped across her cheek, across the top of
her head, and under her chin. She smelled pungent vegetables
instead of chemicals and lay in her scheepa, rocking gently side to
side.
An attempt to get up resulted in her leg
giving way. Howling, she fell to the floor in a heap, then slapped
the deck. I hate this place! Everything she did went wrong
or ended up with her being punished. It wasn't fair.
Memories of home flooded back. Her mother had
worked her hard but had never been cruel. While her father had been
meaner, he'd never hit her. His raised voice had been enough for
her to do as she was told. All of that was gone. She had to get off
the ship, but how?
Cook appeared in the doorway, a globelight in
her hand. Lissa cowered against a post.
"Get up, child," the old woman said in a
quiet voice. "Sit up there."
Lissa hopped on her good leg across to a
crate and perched on the edge. She peered at Cook with one eye.
"You're a stupid, careless girl. Farq has
killed men with his bare hands. He'll do worse than give you a
black eye next time. Can't you just do as you're told for once?"
She clutched Lissa's jaw with a bony hand and scrutinized her face
and eye.
Lissa sniffed. She didn't know what to
say.
"You'll live. Let this be a lesson to you.
Now go clean and sharpen all the knives, and mind you put 'em back
in the right place. I'll be along to check. If you do it properly,
you can eat supper. And, Gods, you smell, girl. I'll have Branda
show you the showers in the morning."
"Yes, ma'am," Lissa said. That, at least, was
something to look forward to.
It seemed to take forever for her to limp
into the galley. She was glad that her leg wasn't broken. Having to
spend more time in the infirmary was certain to get her another
beating. The room was empty. She heaved a sigh of relief, not yet
ready to deal with Alice again. Determined to do something right,
she pulled out every item of cutlery, laying them neatly on the
table with the most light. Her swollen eye itched, but she tried to
put it out of her mind and concentrate. First, she scrubbed the
rust off each knife, and then drew it through the sharpener a dozen
times. Once she could effortlessly slice a hoobin-beet, she moved
on to the next.
At the end, she arranged the knives neatly in
their drawers, ordering them by size. There was no sign of Cook so
she fixed herself a plate of bread crusts, cold jab-bird meat and
cheese. She chewed delicately and slowly, her jaw aching with every
bite, but she was starving, so she softened her sandwiches in
water. The soggy pieces tasted awful, but her full belly felt
good.
She yawned, and then groaned with the pain in
her cheek. She massaged it. Her leg throbbed, but she didn't dare
leave until Cook returned. To pass the time, she peered into every
drawer and cupboard, memorizing its contents. That done, she
expanded her search into the small room next door, barely large
enough for a work surface and a small oven. In a corner stood a
tall urn for making jalak-brew and the walls were lined with shelf
upon shelf of neatly labeled containers.
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