Chapter 23 #2
This isn’t any kind of “institute.” It’s an orphanage, plain and simple. A handful of adults trying to care for more children than anyone really should, because it’s either that or leave them with no one at all.
Why did Torstem care enough to invest in this place, however much he does?
I hate to think how much worse the kids might look without his contributions. They do at least appear to be decently fed and sheltered.
Our arrival—or rather, the horses’ arrival—provokes a whole lot of squealing excitement from one contingent of children.
Before we’ve even breached the gate, a slim middle-aged woman with a worn face and a simple but clean linen dress appears in the doorway, presumably drawn by the clamor. “Can I help you?”
She doesn’t sound exactly surprised that two people in noble clothes have shown up at her doorstep.
Casimir takes the lead with the whole talking thing. He strides up to the woman and offers a respectful dip of his head. “Our apologies for the intrusion. One of your benefactors asked us to take a look around and see if there’s anything additional you might need.”
I can’t imagine the orphanage has more than one noble investing in it. The woman’s brow knits a little, but she nods in acceptance. “I mean, we could always use more help. More hands to keep the kids in order, more variety of food, better clothing. But he’s been plenty generous. We do all right.”
“Could we come inside?” Casimir asks, spreading his hand in appeal. “I promise we have no intention of judging what you’ve accomplished. I simply want to make sure we can give him a thorough account of where additional contributions would be most appreciated.”
At his soft smile, the orphanage manager can’t seem to help smiling back. “I don’t see why not. And if either of you have an interest in taking one of these sprites off our hands, they are capable of behaving themselves if given enough incentive.”
The interior of the building has a similar atmosphere to the exterior—untidy and chaotic but homey. The smell of fresh-baked bread mingles with the tang of sweat and chamber pot spills.
Through the doorway to what serves as a living room, I see an older woman sitting in a ratty armchair, tilted toward the cluster of small children gathered on the floor around her.
“That’s how they tell it,” she’s saying. “The All-Giver is all things and made all things, but the One God got tired of handling it all alone. So One lay with the sea and the sky and the earth to birth the nine godlen, three for each, so that they could help oversee the realms.”
“The All-Giver is a lady, then, if she had babies,” one of the kids pipes up.
The elderly woman chuckles and moves her hand down her front in the three-fingered tap. “The Great God is both man and woman and neither all at the same time. It’s the grandness of divinity.”
The little ones look as if they’re as unsatisfied with that answer as I’d have been at that age, but there’s no denying the fondness in the woman’s expression or the eager curiosity in theirs. They are cared for here.
More than I was, after everything went wrong.
I swallow down the ache of that thought and yank my attention back to our host.
The woman leads us through a few of the rooms on the lower floor and up the stairs to the second, which holds mostly bedrooms it appears four or five children share each.
As far as I can tell, there are fifty or so orphans in residence at the moment, ranging from a babe one of the other staff is feeding from a leather bottle to gawky preteens who can’t be more than a few months shy of their dedication ceremonies.
But that’s the oldest I see. As we circle back to the staircase, I venture a question. “Where do they go after their dedications?”
The manager runs her hand back through her rumpled curls. “Oh, the ones who don’t end up adopted—which is most of ‘em—go off to the temples in service of their chosen godlen. It’s not a bad life. They’re usually happy to get away from the bedlam here.”
“Do they get to see much of the city beyond the institute before then?” Casimir asks. “I can tell you don’t have enough assistance to easily keep track of all of them if you make an excursion.”
“That’s true. It’s simpler keeping an eye on them here. We’ve got the garden and the river there for them to splash around in. But of course our benefactor arranges occasional visits to the royal college for the ones he feels have the most interest in seeing what the gods can provide.”
I stifle a frown. Is that really all there is to Torstem’s tours? He’s showing off the glory of the ruling powers?
I can’t see anything especially ominous about the arrangements here, though.
Casimir snaps his fingers. “That reminds me. I assume you keep records of which of your charges made those visits, and where each of them were placed after their dedications?”
The woman hesitates. “Well, yes, of course.”
“It would be ever so helpful if we could look those over while we’re here. There are a couple of past visitors who made an impression on people they met at the college, who’d like the chance to support their continued spiritual growth.”
It’s a deft enough excuse that I mentally applaud Casimir’s cleverness. We need to find out what’s really happened to the kids Ster. Torstem brought around.
But the woman twists her hands in front of her, maybe realizing that she doesn’t have definite proof that we’re associated with her benefactor at all.
Casimir beams at her as if he hasn’t noticed her reluctance. A whiff of magic tingles over my skin before he speaks again. “You really have done a fantastic job for them here with the resources you have. I must commend you for that.”
The orphanage manager’s smile comes back. “Well, thank you. I—here, let me get our record books. They aren’t the tidiest ever, but you should be able to find what you need.”
He does have a way about him, doesn’t he? Julita says with a tinge of her own admiration.
He does. It’s almost trickery, how he persuades people, but he’s so gentle about it you can tell there’s no malice in it.
I’ve never known anyone quite like him. It’s hard not to think the world would be a better place with more.
As the manager sets a few stained canvas-bound books on a rickety table, a wail bursts out from downstairs. She lets out an exasperated sigh. “I’d better handle that. I’ll be back in a moment.”
Casimir flips open the first book. He pulls out a paper and writing supplies as he peruses the pages.
My gaze veers to the staircase. I lower my voice. “I’m going to take a quick look at the third floor.”
“Excellent idea.”
I check to make sure no staff are in view of the staircase and then slip up the steps, wincing inwardly at every creak. All of the rooms I peek into are more bedrooms, but at the third doorway, I pause.
The nervous boy I saw with Ster. Torstem a few days ago stands near the window. I recognize his wideset eyes and pinched chin in an instant, even though he’s dressed in a shabby tunic and trousers now.
I ease into the room. “Hello,” I say, doing my best to channel Casimir’s warmth. “You came by the college the other day, didn’t you? Did you enjoy your visit?”
The boy bites his lip as he considers me. Then he gives a tentative nod. “There’s so much that gets done there. It was very impressive.”
Something about his answer sounds rehearsed, but then, I wouldn’t put it past Ster. Torstem to insist on a certain way of talking about the college regardless of his reasons for taking the kids there.
“I suppose you’ll be having your dedication ceremony soon,” I say.
The boy brightens up immediately, so much that I can’t doubt his enthusiasm now. “Oh, yes. I hope that Sabrelle will welcome my sacrifice with a great gift in return.”
Well, I can’t call him unambitious. He doesn’t appear to be traumatized or unhinged. Just… quiet, which is far from a crime.
I try another angle. “What did you think of Ster. Torstem?”
“He’s very generous. It was good to see… good to see where he comes from.”
The boy gets a bit of an odd look, as if he’s worried he’s offended me. I scramble for another question. “I trust there wasn’t anything frightening that happened during your visit?”
And gods above, let him tell me if there was.
The boy twists his hands in front of him. His next words come out a little too fast. “Oh, there’s nothing to be scared of. It’s people like Torstem who are making sure everything will be all right.”
His face pales a little more, and he makes that hasty protective gesture over his chest like I saw on the campus. “I should help in the kitchen,” he announces before I can say anything else, and darts past me out the door.
The whole conversation leaves me uneasy, but in such a vague way I can’t say anything was actually wrong. It’s odd that the boy referred to Torstem informally—but outer-ward kids aren’t used to professional honorifics.
What did he mean about making sure things would be all right, though? That sounded strangely ominous even though it was phrased to be reassuring.
My nerves itch all the way back to Casimir, who’s just closing the last of the records books. At the sound of the manager’s voice traveling up the stairs, I duck inside and lean against the wall as if I never left.
When he hands the books back to the woman, Casimir gives her an emphatic thank you before we head outside. He tucks the paper he wrote his notes on into his breast pocket.
I have to wait until we’re back on our horses and a few streets away from the orphanage before he tells me anything he learned. “If the records are correct, then all the children Ster. Torstem has tapped for college visits are serving at temples as she said.”
“We’ll just have to look them up at those temples and see if there’s anything odd about their situation now. I spoke with the boy I saw earlier this week… He couldn’t tell me much, but I got the sense he was still nervous about the situation.”