Read Online Of Sea and Stone (Secrets of Itlantis) by Kate Avery Ellison - Free Book Online
Authors: Kate Avery Ellison
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tub’s edge. The lather smelled like milk, and it scrubbed away the grime and oil on my body. By the time Crakea returned, carrying a plain gray garment over her arm, my skin felt smooth as sea glass.
She looked me over and grunted, as if displeased that she saw nothing she could scold me for.
“Get out. We have work to do.”
I climbed from the tub and snatched the towel from her hand to cover myself. Once dried, I tugged on the garment and knotted the sash around my waist. My hair hung down my back, dripping, soaking the cloth, and splattering on the floor.
“Braid it,” Crakea ordered. “You need to keep it out of the way while you work.”
I twisted my wet mane into a four-strand braid, the way my mother had taught me. When I was finished, Crakea motioned for me to follow her through a hall of glass and into another room.
“This is the chamber of the master’s daughter.”
I drifted after her, staring open-mouthed at the wonders that surrounded me. Pillars of twisted metal held up a ceiling painted with murals of whales and fish. Walls of glass showed more vistas of blue ocean and rippling sunlight. In the center of the room was a bed draped with gauzy curtains and piled with pillows. Next to the bed was a gilded box with half a dozen drawers, probably for clothing. At the far wall, a table of metal embedded with knobs stood against the glass.
Gradually, I noticed the crumpled garments on the shimmering floor, the dirty plates piled on the magnificent silken bed, the clutter of bottles on the gilded box.
“Don’t just stand there,” the doumeu snapped. “We don’t have much time to clean between the time when the young mistress leaves for her dance lessons and when she returns. The room must be spotless.”
Under her critical eye, I snatched up a few discarded bits of clothing and laid them on the bed. Crakea scowled at my attempts to fold them, taking them from me and demonstrating. Then she watched again as I tried to mimic her attempts.
“You must have lived in a mud hole before now to be so inept,” she said.
I flushed, but I kept my tongue between my teeth and didn’t respond. The doumeu observed me for a few seconds, gauging my reaction before pointing at the garments on the bed.
“Do it again. You’re no use to me if you can’t do your chores.”
After six more attempts, I got the clothing smoothed to her liking. She directed me to put it in the gilded box beside the wall. I tugged on the handles, and smaller boxes slid forward, revealing other garments that were also neatly folded. I remembered seeing such a piece of furniture before, in the house of a wealthy village elder. I’d never had such a luxury. My clothing had always hung on hooks on the wall.
“Now that you’ve mastered a task a child of three could do,” said Crakea, “let me show you some of your other duties.”
We gathered the dirty plates from beside the bed and then rode the lift in another stomach-twisting descent, this time to the kitchen. Here, in a gleaming room of metal and steam, cooks prepared bubbling pots of fish and crab. The aromas made my head spin with hunger.
But after we’d unloaded the plates into a steaming vat of water, the doumeu pushed me through the doors again. “Come,” she barked. “There is still more to show you.”
I swallowed a sigh and followed her.
The chores dragged on in an endless blur. Crakea showed me how to use a bucket and a brush to scrub the gleaming floors of the beautiful bedroom so that they shone even brighter. She explained how to wipe down the glittery transparent walls so the fish swirling around outside were visible, and how to work the knobs of the metal table so that curtains covered the glass and filled the room with shifting shadows. She showed me how to turn another knob so that lights set in the ceiling glowed softly, bathing everything in violet light. She made me stoop and kneel and lift and stretch until my back and shoulders were aching.
As
She looked me over and grunted, as if displeased that she saw nothing she could scold me for.
“Get out. We have work to do.”
I climbed from the tub and snatched the towel from her hand to cover myself. Once dried, I tugged on the garment and knotted the sash around my waist. My hair hung down my back, dripping, soaking the cloth, and splattering on the floor.
“Braid it,” Crakea ordered. “You need to keep it out of the way while you work.”
I twisted my wet mane into a four-strand braid, the way my mother had taught me. When I was finished, Crakea motioned for me to follow her through a hall of glass and into another room.
“This is the chamber of the master’s daughter.”
I drifted after her, staring open-mouthed at the wonders that surrounded me. Pillars of twisted metal held up a ceiling painted with murals of whales and fish. Walls of glass showed more vistas of blue ocean and rippling sunlight. In the center of the room was a bed draped with gauzy curtains and piled with pillows. Next to the bed was a gilded box with half a dozen drawers, probably for clothing. At the far wall, a table of metal embedded with knobs stood against the glass.
Gradually, I noticed the crumpled garments on the shimmering floor, the dirty plates piled on the magnificent silken bed, the clutter of bottles on the gilded box.
“Don’t just stand there,” the doumeu snapped. “We don’t have much time to clean between the time when the young mistress leaves for her dance lessons and when she returns. The room must be spotless.”
Under her critical eye, I snatched up a few discarded bits of clothing and laid them on the bed. Crakea scowled at my attempts to fold them, taking them from me and demonstrating. Then she watched again as I tried to mimic her attempts.
“You must have lived in a mud hole before now to be so inept,” she said.
I flushed, but I kept my tongue between my teeth and didn’t respond. The doumeu observed me for a few seconds, gauging my reaction before pointing at the garments on the bed.
“Do it again. You’re no use to me if you can’t do your chores.”
After six more attempts, I got the clothing smoothed to her liking. She directed me to put it in the gilded box beside the wall. I tugged on the handles, and smaller boxes slid forward, revealing other garments that were also neatly folded. I remembered seeing such a piece of furniture before, in the house of a wealthy village elder. I’d never had such a luxury. My clothing had always hung on hooks on the wall.
“Now that you’ve mastered a task a child of three could do,” said Crakea, “let me show you some of your other duties.”
We gathered the dirty plates from beside the bed and then rode the lift in another stomach-twisting descent, this time to the kitchen. Here, in a gleaming room of metal and steam, cooks prepared bubbling pots of fish and crab. The aromas made my head spin with hunger.
But after we’d unloaded the plates into a steaming vat of water, the doumeu pushed me through the doors again. “Come,” she barked. “There is still more to show you.”
I swallowed a sigh and followed her.
The chores dragged on in an endless blur. Crakea showed me how to use a bucket and a brush to scrub the gleaming floors of the beautiful bedroom so that they shone even brighter. She explained how to wipe down the glittery transparent walls so the fish swirling around outside were visible, and how to work the knobs of the metal table so that curtains covered the glass and filled the room with shifting shadows. She showed me how to turn another knob so that lights set in the ceiling glowed softly, bathing everything in violet light. She made me stoop and kneel and lift and stretch until my back and shoulders were aching.
As
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