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Authors: Connie Suttle
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treated fellow employees as equals instead of hired slaves. The head cook, a man called Silmor, seldom shouted at the help—there wasn't any need for it. Ilvan found that to be a welcome change. And, after a lengthy training day, Ilvan had put Reah's recipe for fish stew together for the staff.
"This is excellent," Silmor tasted his bowl of chowder. "We could sell this." Ilvan and Edan smiled at one another.
* * *
"So, they just tore down the building and put a park here." I surveyed the playground equipment. It needed paint and upkeep, in my opinion. Pipes were rusting and swing seats needed to be replaced.
"Probably hauled dirt in from somewhere," Plovel agreed. Our morning had begun extremely early—the sun was barely up and the spring winds were cold that blew across Grithis. I would have to go back and start the breakfast menu. Neither of my helpers had progressed enough to handle a meal on their own.
"I'm surprised they bothered. The way things are with the current politicians, they'd have left the concrete slab and let the children play on that." The more I saw of Grithis' government, the more I hoped the people would rise up and topple it.
"They had to bring in something—All these buildings have basements." Plovel pointed to the other buildings still standing on either side. "It had to be filled in and capped before the dirt is spread over it. That's standard across the planet."
"Ah." Still, I was surprised they bothered. "I wish I could stay but I have to open the restaurant. Good luck." I patted Plovel's arm and turned to go back to the inn.
I spent the rest of the day cooking and working the restaurant, only noticing while I was closing up that Plovel hadn't come in for the evening meal. He always did that, just to check in if nothing else. That had me worried.
"Have you seen Plovel?" I asked after I locked the restaurant, finding Neidles right behind me.
"Seen him? Not recently. I'll tell you where he is if you'll come to my suite." Rat-faced Neidles had done something and my breath caught in my throat.
"You'll tell me where he is now, and I'll not be coming to your suite, now or ever." I always carried my knife with me. Always. That knife was now at Neidles' throat and he was staring at me, frightened out of his wits.
"I had him arrested," his voice quavered, but that didn't keep the contempt out of it. "I've seen you two together. Don't think for a tick that I'd let that happen."
"Why was he arrested? Why?" I backed Neidles against the wall. "So help me, if they've harmed him, I'll cut your balls off." I hissed the threat at him, standing on tiptoe so my face would be in his.
"I-I told the authorities I saw him take a ch-child."
"You fucking moron," I snapped. "Find another cook, Neidles. We're done." If that didn't shock him enough, my skipping away certainly did.
* * *
"No one is allowed to see the prisoner," I was told by a constabulary officer every bit as loathsome as Neidles. Perhaps worse.
"You mean nobody sees him who doesn't pay first," I hissed. "Where is he?" I held back from gripping his throat in my hands.
"In the cell around the corner." The man was smiling now—he thought I was about to offer a bribe. He was dressed in a wrinkled uniform and sported oily brown hair. His eyes were washed-out blue, his mouth narrow.
"You disgust me," I snapped at him and skipped away. I heard his scream even as I appeared inside Plovel's cell. They'd beaten Plovel already—he had a black eye and a broken nose. His clothing was dirty, too, as if he'd been knocked into the dirt several times.
"Reah?" Plovel sat dejectedly on a rusty bunk that had no mattress. How anyone was supposed to sleep on that was beyond my comprehension.
"Plovel, can you stand?" I asked.
"I think so, why?"
"Because I'm getting you out of here. We have to hurry." I grabbed his hand and helped him up—I could hear shouting and running feet as I placed my shoulder beneath Plovel's arm and skipped away.
* *
"This is excellent," Silmor tasted his bowl of chowder. "We could sell this." Ilvan and Edan smiled at one another.
* * *
"So, they just tore down the building and put a park here." I surveyed the playground equipment. It needed paint and upkeep, in my opinion. Pipes were rusting and swing seats needed to be replaced.
"Probably hauled dirt in from somewhere," Plovel agreed. Our morning had begun extremely early—the sun was barely up and the spring winds were cold that blew across Grithis. I would have to go back and start the breakfast menu. Neither of my helpers had progressed enough to handle a meal on their own.
"I'm surprised they bothered. The way things are with the current politicians, they'd have left the concrete slab and let the children play on that." The more I saw of Grithis' government, the more I hoped the people would rise up and topple it.
"They had to bring in something—All these buildings have basements." Plovel pointed to the other buildings still standing on either side. "It had to be filled in and capped before the dirt is spread over it. That's standard across the planet."
"Ah." Still, I was surprised they bothered. "I wish I could stay but I have to open the restaurant. Good luck." I patted Plovel's arm and turned to go back to the inn.
I spent the rest of the day cooking and working the restaurant, only noticing while I was closing up that Plovel hadn't come in for the evening meal. He always did that, just to check in if nothing else. That had me worried.
"Have you seen Plovel?" I asked after I locked the restaurant, finding Neidles right behind me.
"Seen him? Not recently. I'll tell you where he is if you'll come to my suite." Rat-faced Neidles had done something and my breath caught in my throat.
"You'll tell me where he is now, and I'll not be coming to your suite, now or ever." I always carried my knife with me. Always. That knife was now at Neidles' throat and he was staring at me, frightened out of his wits.
"I had him arrested," his voice quavered, but that didn't keep the contempt out of it. "I've seen you two together. Don't think for a tick that I'd let that happen."
"Why was he arrested? Why?" I backed Neidles against the wall. "So help me, if they've harmed him, I'll cut your balls off." I hissed the threat at him, standing on tiptoe so my face would be in his.
"I-I told the authorities I saw him take a ch-child."
"You fucking moron," I snapped. "Find another cook, Neidles. We're done." If that didn't shock him enough, my skipping away certainly did.
* * *
"No one is allowed to see the prisoner," I was told by a constabulary officer every bit as loathsome as Neidles. Perhaps worse.
"You mean nobody sees him who doesn't pay first," I hissed. "Where is he?" I held back from gripping his throat in my hands.
"In the cell around the corner." The man was smiling now—he thought I was about to offer a bribe. He was dressed in a wrinkled uniform and sported oily brown hair. His eyes were washed-out blue, his mouth narrow.
"You disgust me," I snapped at him and skipped away. I heard his scream even as I appeared inside Plovel's cell. They'd beaten Plovel already—he had a black eye and a broken nose. His clothing was dirty, too, as if he'd been knocked into the dirt several times.
"Reah?" Plovel sat dejectedly on a rusty bunk that had no mattress. How anyone was supposed to sleep on that was beyond my comprehension.
"Plovel, can you stand?" I asked.
"I think so, why?"
"Because I'm getting you out of here. We have to hurry." I grabbed his hand and helped him up—I could hear shouting and running feet as I placed my shoulder beneath Plovel's arm and skipped away.
* *
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