Sofia
SOFIA
AGE 7
When the outer wall was first built by the King Jorgan, it was an act of protection. The kingdom had been plagued by violence from the outside, the remnants of the savage tribes that refused to bow to true ruler of Wueco. It wasn’t until nearly two centuries later that the wall would come to serve a new function: to protect the loyal civilians of Suvi from the violent Dragonborn both outside and inside the wall. This separation from their more savage ancestors is what allows for the taming and education of the Dragonborn. This author would argue that this firm segregation is not just helpful, but necessary if we wish to continue the assimilation of the Dragonborn into natural society.
-Lird W. Viona, Assimilation or Elimination: A Philosophical Debate
I n less than a sun cycle, would be too big for this work. Another smaller girl would be sent through the narrow tunnel of the latrine to ensure it was cleared out properly and would be happily standing on the outside, yelling at her to hurry up, as if the task were the same burden to them both.
As it was, Liza’s raspy voice echoed through the stone tunnel, her drawl of annoyance clear. “Are you done yet?”
The sound of it made ’s entire body tense, but she bit her tongue. Yelling back only ever made things worse. She kept scrubbing as fast as she could, focusing on the movement of the task instead of the fetid smell in the small space. When she had first been given this duty, she had thought to breathe through her mouth and avoid the smell altogether. But she quickly learned that she could taste the air, and vomiting up her meager breakfast only ended in more work for herself.
“I have other jobs to do and the smell is starting to get to me,” Liza said, voice sounding distant. “I’m going to leave you soon if you don’t say something.”
gave a last scrub, scooping the last of the feces and waste into the small bucket before tugging at the rope around her waist. She maneuvered backward as best she could before Liza started pulling at the rope, helping her slip through the tight space with only a small scrape against her elbow. Last cycle she had barely needed the help to crawl out, but now she could barely make it out without the consistent tugging of the rope. She hadn’t gotten any rounder over the cycle, but as her mother always pointed out when she was trying to dress her in the morning, she was all elbows and knees now.
Perhaps if she managed to steal enough food over the next few blinks, she’d ensure getting pulled off latrine duty a bit earlier.
“Gods, you smell foul.” They were the first words Liza said as slipped from the tunnel, the sun blinding her for a moment. When had first started working with the girl she’d talked back, at one point noting that Liza’s nose always looked like she’d smelled something foul. But the girl had gone running back to the head housekeeper and had been the one whipped with a switch five times. She’d quickly learned there was no use in arguing with Liza. Ms. Garcia might claim not to play favorites, but it was clear she had a soft spot for the girl with her pale skin. Nothing like ’s own dark complexion that Liza constantly pointed out blended perfectly with the feces she cleaned out daily.
It was clear that, while Liza had been born a Dragonborn the same as , she had ancestors from the northern lands beyond the sea. It was a mark of privilege in its own right, as if the Falais or Terdun being willing to have relations with a Dragonborn made them inherently better than their peers. And Liza could have even passed as a Dereyan if her token wasn’t requested.
Not even bothering to help untie or dump out the bucket, Liza gave a wave of her hand before turning and stomping away.
“Thanks,” said under her breath.
“She’s nice,” the boy waiting by the cart said with a twist of his lips. He was only a cycle or two older than , perhaps ten at most. She’d only seen him a few times and she was unsure if he was a temporary replacement for Simon or a new trainee. Either way, she didn’t care to make friends in the manor. She only shrugged as she finished untying herself and cleaned away the last of the latrine’s waste.
* * *
As she walked back to the servants’ entrance, she could do nothing for the shivers racking her body beneath her sodden clothes. She had cleaned herself off in the canal behind the house, knowing she wouldn’t be let in to pick up her wages or shawl if she was still dirty. Yet now, she was dirty and wet, and the setting sun was blind to her suffering. It was still the rainy season, but the air held the promise of the cold season to come.
“You’re late,” Ms. Garcia said as she came into the kitchens, nearly gasping at the change in temperature. The cooking fires were roaring heartily and the air was thick with beans and stew.
“I’m sorry,” she said, voice soft and words automatic. Pointing out that Liza hadn’t helped with her duties and she’d been left to finish and clean up alone wouldn’t do any good.
“That’s the third time this week. Plus the broken vase, yesterday.” Ms. Garcia loved listing her crimes. It was best to keep her mouth shut and look properly ashamed. There was always a list, no matter how fast she moved or how much her fingers bled from scrubbing.
“Well go on then, take your coins and go before you miss curfew!” she snapped, as if had been the one slowing down the exchange. But she dutifully jumped forward, letting the rounded woman place the pitiful pile of coins in her hand.
“You’re two short,” she said, before she could berate herself for even daring.
The slap barely echoed in the din of the kitchens, not a single worker even flinching or turning their head in acknowledgment of the act. Her cheek stung and she couldn’t quite bite back the wetness along her eyes.
“That’s for the broken vase. Now get out before I deduct another for your insolence. The master doesn’t allow for sloth in his house. If you don’t like the job, you can go beg on the streets like the rest of your kind.”
bowed low, hiding her face as the tears threatened to spill over. Her face was hot and her stomach churned with ineffectual rage, but the words she wanted to say stay locked behind her tongue.
“Thank you, Ms. Garcia. I don’t know what got into me.” She kept her back bent as she backed away, not looking up from the ground until she saw the woman’s shoes turn. Ms. Garcia was paying attention to someone else now and was invisible once more. Nothing and no one. She scuttled out of the kitchens before anyone could notice the small bread roll she’d slipped into her hand during her pleading.
She ate it in two bites once she was out the door, coins already tucked into her pockets, along with a rag. It was never safe to walk home through the slums with her pockets clanging with coins. The icy air cooled the heat of her anger, but the shame still quaked just beneath the surface. She pressed her fists into her eyes until the burning stopped.
She barely made it out of the royal quarter before dark. The guards at the gates gave her a heavy scowl as she ran the last block, bowing low as they locked the doors behind her. Only a few minutes later and she would have been locked in on the other side. It had happened once before to her, and she’d spent the night shivering in the shadows, trying to stay silent as her stomach growled and her teeth clicked together. It was worth an arrest and whipping to be caught in the military or royal quarters after curfew without a pass and she was never given a pass, even on the days her shifts went long.
Once she was into the outer quarter, she slowed down, no longer desperate to get home. Her parents would notice the missing coins and she’d need to explain how she’d managed to break a vase. The fact that Liza had told her to clean it despite the delicate piece sitting two feet above her head wouldn’t stop the disappointment from filling her mother’s eyes as she tucked the coins away in their box. They’d be hungry again this week, and whether or not her mother said it out loud, it was ’s fault. So instead of turning right at the first corner, she went straight, ignoring the numbness in her fingers as the cold of night set in. She found the grimy alley with the barely standing building and its crumbled staircase just inside the cracked wall. Her footsteps were careful, each weakness in the steps memorized.
But the view was worth the delay. As she came out onto the roof of the old building, she could see the small and evenly spaced fires that marked the outer wall. And beyond that, the rainforest. It glowed, green and purple and blue. Above it, the two moons of the dragon mother rose, large and unblinking. From where she stood on the edge of the roof, it felt like she might reach out and brush her fingers across the tops of the trees. Would they be soft like grass or rough like the spiky weeds that grew along the canal’s shore?
But of course she couldn’t touch the trees and she never would. The forest might as well have been a million miles away. As much myth as the dragons that once watched over their land.
She closed her eyes and said a prayer—not to the old kings, but to the dragons—unsure if anyone was left listening. She prayed that tomorrow nothing would go wrong and she might walk home with her chin held high. She prayed that she’d make her parents proud and she might be the best worker the master had ever seen. Because that’s all she could hope for.