Chapter 9
Zelfek wasn’t there when I awoke, not that I’d expected him to be. But when I summoned my light, there was a wash basin with unscented soap, a comb, fresh clothes, towels, bed linens and a heavy blanket by the door. I almost cried more stupid tears when I saw they’d included undershorts this time. Zelfek had kept his word and then some!
I hovered by the door for a moment and listened. There wasn’t a stirring of breath or scrape of boots to be heard. I was all but certain that I was left unguarded between meals and visits. I pounded on the door and shouted, “Hello out there!” Nobody answered.
Since I couldn’t be sure how long I would have privacy, I picked up the little tub and started getting ready to bathe. I still felt grimy after my hasty, bloody sponge bath. The basin was just large enough for me to kneel in for a decent clean. It would take a while to fill the tub so I raced against the rush of water, and lifespan of my light, to put clean linens on the bed and spread the blanket out across the mattress. I managed the task before the tub filled, and the light flickered out a few moments after I shut off the water. My light was lasting entire minutes now and I allowed myself a moment of pride in that.
I washed my hair first, before getting in, reducing the time I’d have to spend submerged. Then I climbed in. The cold water stole my breath, and I started washing as quickly as I could. Once dry and dressed, I wrapped my shivering body in the thick quilted blanket and flopped across the bed, letting my hair hang off the edge to help it dry. Then I went back to my daydreams.
The simple pleasure of the blanket inspired me to consider all the little things that brought moments of delight. Like finding the first fat, ripe blueberries of the season. Sunrise on a clear, crisp autumn morning with an equally crisp apple on my tongue. All the commotion of a life-dense forest on a hazy summer day, cooling my feet in the stream before checking my traps for dinner. Returning to the Order’s dormitories over the coldest weeks of winter to share stories and sip herbal tea with my fellow guardians. Doramdir’s hardy laugh. Lhoris’ tender, incidental touch while he smiled at me like a lovestruck fool. Every time Emma announced she’d sprouted a proper finger in the proper place. The way she and Eve giggled together. Lobikno singing. Hell, I even missed Judith’s relentless dedication to the girls.
All such wonderful things—things that reminded me that there was more than what happened in this cold, dark place. Good things that I could get back to if I managed find a way to escape this tomb of a compound.
Lhoris and Lobikno would be here any time now. I’d have to be ready to act and try to meet them halfway. I wouldn’t have any signal to act, so I’d have to remain quiet and listen. If I didn’t hear anything today, I’d slip out for certain tomorrow, armed with my stolen knife.
Footsteps in the corridor pulled me out of my thoughts and into reality. The door creaked open, and two figures stood backlit in pale light.
One was obviously an elf soldier, but the other was small.
A child.
“Dulanzo said you’re to look after this boy,” said the unfamiliar soldier and shoved the child in the doorway with his foot. The momentum caused the boy to tumble over himself before sprawling on the cold floor with a whimper.
“What the fuck?!” I kicked the blanket aside and dashed towards them, too shocked by what I’d witnessed to work up to the anger I knew was coming. The child was so small. Maybe a toddler, though I really had no idea how elven children developed. The poor thing was naked and trembled visibly in the dim light. I had little experience with children, but I scooped up his skinny body and held him protectively against my shoulder anyway.
“I’ll … peel the flesh from your skull!” I snarled at the soldier. The child froze in my arms, holding his breath, perhaps frightened by my tone. He smelled so, so bad—unwashed and unhealthy.
“Promises, promises,” the elf sighed wearily, as if something weighed on him, wore him down. It slowed the momentum of my rage.
“I’ll need more supplies if I’m to take care of him. He needs clothes and we need more towels.” I paused before adding, “Maybe some light?”
“You can’t make light?” The elf laughed at me. “The child can do that for you.”
“What about the other things?” I demanded with a scowl.
“Why not,” he sighed. “Anything else, your highness?”
Under normal circumstances, I’d have told him to fuck off, eat shit, and die. But this elf at least agreed to my request. It wouldn’t serve me to bite back right now.
“What’s his name?” I asked through clenched teeth.
He just shrugged. “He’s not old enough to be given one yet.”
My face twisted in disgust. This child, this person, was nobody to them. Nothing. Nameless, faceless in the dark. Even my shitty mother had given me a name …
Rage simmered under my heated skin while vague plans for escape and mischief hardened into deadly resolve. This manipulation on Dulanzo’s part might work for him in the short term, but I would make him regret the day he’d given me such terrible motivation.
I took a pair of deep breaths in an attempt to cool my temper and reminded myself it would be unwise to take things out on the person willing to give me supplies.
“Food,” I said abruptly. “Bring us food, please.” I paused and realized I needed to put my name in his ear before I became nobody as well. It would become the first thing I did upon meeting a new face here. “You can call me Ozanna. Ozanna Black,” I offered. “What’s your name?”
I couldn’t see the details of his face to read his expression, but he paused before answering. “Tugnol.”
Tugnol stepped back into the corridor and shut the door. I heard the click of the lock and the child let out a deep breath, relaxing against me. Perhaps he was young enough to not be so separated from his nature. Or maybe he was just too weak to do more than collapse into the little bit of warmth and shelter I offered him. I rocked from foot to foot as I’d observed some women do, my fingers stroking over the back of his dirty scalp. It felt surprisingly natural after a few heartbeats. There was a sense of familiarity about the boy, which was odd since I couldn’t even see him. It didn’t make sense, so I dismissed the peculiar feeling and shushed him despite his silence. “It’s okay, little one. It’s okay. I have you now. I’ll gut the next asshole that tries that shit on you.”
Was that something one ought to say to a small child? Mother above, how the hell was I going to take care of him here? Small blessing that he wasn’t a fragile infant.
The child wiggled in my grasp and said something I couldn”t understand in the sweetest little voice. He leaned back and I loosened my grip to give him space. From the way his body shifted, I thought he might be looking at me. I caught the faint flash of light in his eyes and decided he was examining my face. Gentle little fingers caressed my cheek and tentatively pulled a lock of my damp hair. I must have looked odd to him with my pale skin and dark hair. He spoke again, though it sounded like he was asking a question.
“I’m sorry, little one, I can’t understand you,” I replied despite knowing it was unlikely he could understand me. He repeated himself. “I’m sorry,” I murmured.
With nothing else to offer I simply rubbed his back and started humming a lullaby. It was an ancient tune that the matrons used to sing to the very young children in the Order dormitory. The little fellow sighed and snuggled into my shoulder. I sat down on the bed and just held him, stroking his back, warming his chilled skin while we waited for his clothes.
I couldn’t have been much older than this child when my mother gave me away. So small. So alone. So vulnerable. Gods, I was so damn lucky she’d taken me to the Order. While they didn’t love me, the Order matrons had been kind. At least I’d been fed and educated. Given a purpose I was well suited for, even if it wasn’t one of my choosing. My mother could have just turned me loose on the streets or even sold me. Perhaps her decision to give me to the Order had been made with love after all.
Someone,not Zelfek or Tugnol, returned with more towels and a small brown shirt. I took my stinky little friend directly to the wash basin which I hadn’t bothered to empty yet.
The child squeaked in protest at the temperature when I plopped him in the water. “I know. I’m sorry little one, we’ll get this done quickly.” I set to sudsing up the washcloth and scrubbed him head to toe, then rinsed him under a stream of fresh water. He shivered by the time I got him wrapped in a towel. The shirt they’d left for him was a little large and covered him down to the knee, but it wasn’t warm. We’d have to get cuddled up under the blankets. My shirt reeked from where he’d rested against me earlier, so much that I didn’t want to climb into bed with it on. There was no telling how often I’d get fresh linens and I’d just changed these. So I slid into the one I’d hand rinsed the day before. It was stiff and smelled a little of blood, but it was better than my new smelly shirt.
Little arms wrapped around my neck as I curled around him under the blankets. His shivering tapered off and he eventually started wiggling and chattering to himself. I had hoped he would nap a little bit, but I had no idea what time of day it was or what kind of schedule these elves kept. So when he cupped my cheeks with his hands and tried to maneuver my head to look at my ears, I decided it was just time to get up. I called my light and examined my new friend.
The child had massive garnet eyes and short white hair, like dandelion fluff. His pointed ears didn’t seem to be the same proportion as the adults, much shorter, almost petite. Despite being terribly thin, he was just adorable.
The child spoke and pointed at the gentle glowing orb at the tip of my finger. I opened my mouth to remind him I couldn’t understand, but sighed and shrugged my shoulders instead. He reached toward my pitiful little light with his tiny hands and … took it from me. I blinked.
“How’d you do that?”
He rolled it around in his palm like a pebble and chattered away, as if he were trying to explain what he was doing. Then he cupped it in both hands before lifting it up and offering it to the ceiling. It grew twice its size and the color changed from candle flame to a white blue. Then he hurled it upward, where it hovered. I grinned up at it in wonder.
“I know what to call you,” I said with a broad grin. One of the dormitory matrons sometimes told us a story about a little elf boy that captured the sun for a trickster demon, causing the first winter solstice. Realizing his error, the clever child freed the sun from its cage to bring back spring. His name was … “Oshruli. I will call you Oshruli. I suppose Lobikno can change it if he doesn’t like it, but I have to call you something. Hm?”
Oshruli startled and his face lit at the sound of Lobikno’s name. “Ahba?”
“Lobikno? Is he your Ahba?” Papa, Dada, Ahba … some things were unmistakable despite language barriers, I supposed. Like swearing.
“Ahba!” Oshruli nodded and smiled at me for the first time. He had Lobikno’s rarely seen smile and one dimple, which made me grin back at him.
I placed a palm against my collar bones. “Ozanna.” I repeated it a few times. He finally said it after me, though it was more like Osh-anna, which was fine.
I then tapped his chest and said his name repeatedly. He pronounced it clearly, though he didn’t seem to understand how it related to him.
“Lobikno,” I said.
“Ahba,” he nodded.
“Dulanzo,” I said, twisting my face into an exaggeration of disgust. “Yuck!”
He giggled and made a sound that could have been retching.
I tapped my chest again, “Ozanna.” Then I tapped him on the chest and said, “Oshruli.”
His pale brows came together while he thought and then shot up his forehead. Excited, he put both hands on his chest. “Oshruli?!”
I nodded and chuckled. “Yes, Oshruli.”
He hopped up on his feet and started jumping on the bed, his little fists in the air while he chanted, “Osh-ruli Osh-ruli!” I laughed, his joy contagious.
Maybe Lobikno wouldn’t be able to change the name after all. Ah well. What’s done is done.
It didn’t look like Oshruli was going to settle any time soon, so I tried opening the door, on the off chance it wasn’t locked. They hadn’t forgotten and nobody came to the door when I called out. Were they so confident in their facilities that they wouldn’t post someone to mind the prison?
Then I had to figure out ways to keep Oshruli occupied in the comfortless room. I tried not to handle him too much. Not because he was repulsive though, quite the opposite. I knew he’d been handled harshly and needed his trust more than I wanted to tickle his tummy. It was so, so close, but priorities.
I sang some songs, and he did his best to imitate my words. We played a dizzying game of chase, considering how small the room was, and used the bed as a bit of an obstacle. I’d leap, roll or crawl over the bed, and he’d crawl under it. After a while, I decided to mix it up. Instead of going over the bed, I decided to do a handstand on the bedframe. I watched as he scurried out, like a little bug, right under my nose. He stood there a moment, just waiting for me to land beside him. A few heartbeats later, he looked side to side, then back under the bed. It wasn’t until he stood up and we were nearly eye to eye that he noticed where I was. He startled for a moment and then laughed hysterically. I giggled.
Naturally he started trying to imitate me, and he caught on quickly. Then with the handstand mastered, we moved onto tumbling.
How could such a frail looking child have so much energy?
Thankfully a meal arrived, and we ate mushrooms in companionable silence. Oshruli was apparently as hungry as he looked. He ate voraciously, wolfing down the nutty bread and mushrooms like he hadn’t eaten in ages and didn’t trust that he’d get to again any time soon. I let him have his fill while I took only what I needed. Mushrooms weren’t my favorite, which was unfortunate because it seemed to be a staple at every meal …
Only then did I realize why Lhoris and Lobikno liked to call their people mushroom-eaters. What other crop would grow reliably in the dark, underground?
Then we went back to tumbling and it wasn’t long before I found myself exhausted and wondered how long we’d been playing. Thankfully, Oshruli started to slow down too. He hopped up on the bed and looked at me, expectantly. I flopped into it, which made him bounce an inch or two in the air. He giggled sleepily and curled up between my arm and torso. “You’re a cuddler like your uncle, huh?” He chattered away in elvish and I found myself saying “mhmm, yeah?” in the appropriate breaks. He talked and talked until the moment he fell asleep.
Overall, imprisonment notwithstanding, it was a good first day of motherhood.