Chapter III
Rule #3: A portion of all your stolen goods is owed to Crooked King.
Ati was wary at first, but it turned out she needn’t have been. No one in the crowded courtyard spared her a passing glance, just took her to be yet another palace slave. She didn’t bother worrying about Susan, who had trotted off as a scruffy mouse-catcher.
Swerving past a man carrying a tub of water, Ati scooped up a basket of towels. Now that she had an appropriate excuse to be wandering around, she just needed to find the right entrance to the palace itself.
“What’re ya doin’?” A gruff voice demanded. Ati immediately dropped her gaze to her shoes rather then meet the eyes of the pale man before her.
“I… am sorreh, sah,” She murmured, adopting a thick Ciarian accent. “I fohgoht whehr thehs towels goh.”
“Over in th’ linen room fer foldin’!” He jabbed a finger at a door. “Get goin’!”
“Yessah,” Ati mumbled, ducking around him. Behind her, she could hear the man mutter, “stupid slaves.”
Ati shifted the basket to her hip to push open the door, stepping into a crowded, noisy room. Slaves bustled around, dropping off baskets of unfolded clothes and picking up baskets of folded ones. Around here, somewhere, among all these other slaves, was Bry’s main contact-
“’Ey!” Ati cried as someone slammed a basket into her stomach, forcing her to drop the basket she had been carrying. She jerked her head around and came eye-to-eye with a stocky, dark skinned washer-woman.
“Well don’ jus’ stan’ thehr gawkin’, gahl! Help meh delivah thehs towels.” The woman commanded, thrusting the basket at Ati again.
Ati took the woman’s basket without a word, though inside she was all but pleased. This was a set back she really didn’t have time for.
Suppressing a sigh, Ati followed the woman into the hallway, hoping Susan was having better luck then she was.
~*~
The dirty alley cat slunk around the edge of the wall, keeping well away from the feet of the people bustling around. She had watched Ati disappear inside after being confronted by some man. Just as Susan was about to find her own way in, she paused, ears twitching. There was a sound, beneath the chaos of the courtyard. Soft pattering and skittering across the dirt. Where… Ah. There. A mouse scampered around, only a few feet from her. Susan’s head went down and her bottom went up as she prepared to pounce…
No! She didn’t have time for this! She hissed in irritation and the mouse squeaked and scurried off. She was supposed to be finding a way inside, not chasing mice! Irritated at her own lack of self control, she stalked off towards the door. When a man opened it to go inside, she slid past him. Once inside, she glanced around. She had ended up in the kitchen. This was good, it wasn’t far from where she needed to go. Off she went, slipping around the table legs. Just as she was about to reach the door to the hallway, she was halted by a pair of spindly legs in her a path. A hand reached down to grab the scruff of her neck and haul her off the ground. A scrawny young face greeted her with a disgusted look.
“Gross! Weh don’ leht mice-cahtechehs in th’ kitchehn!” The boy declared, marching to the outside door. Susan hissed and swiped at his wrist. “Ow!” He exclaimed, tossing her outside. “Stupihd caht scrahtched meh!”
“Well wash it an’ geht bahck tah washin’ dishes, bohy!” Susan heard someone yell as the door slammed shut.
Dishes! She had been tossed out like a dirty rag by the washer-boy! Angry now, Susan sat down and indignantly gave herself a bath as she thought about how to get back inside.
Ati was wary at first, but it turned out she needn’t have been. No one in the crowded courtyard spared her a passing glance, just took her to be yet another palace slave. She didn’t bother worrying about Susan, who had trotted off as a scruffy mouse-catcher.
Swerving past a man carrying a tub of water, Ati scooped up a basket of towels. Now that she had an appropriate excuse to be wandering around, she just needed to find the right entrance to the palace itself.
“What’re ya doin’?” A gruff voice demanded. Ati immediately dropped her gaze to her shoes rather then meet the eyes of the pale man before her.
“I… am sorreh, sah,” She murmured, adopting a thick Ciarian accent. “I fohgoht whehr thehs towels goh.”
“Over in th’ linen room fer foldin’!” He jabbed a finger at a door. “Get goin’!”
“Yessah,” Ati mumbled, ducking around him. Behind her, she could hear the man mutter, “stupid slaves.”
Ati shifted the basket to her hip to push open the door, stepping into a crowded, noisy room. Slaves bustled around, dropping off baskets of unfolded clothes and picking up baskets of folded ones. Around here, somewhere, among all these other slaves, was Bry’s main contact-
“’Ey!” Ati cried as someone slammed a basket into her stomach, forcing her to drop the basket she had been carrying. She jerked her head around and came eye-to-eye with a stocky, dark skinned washer-woman.
“Well don’ jus’ stan’ thehr gawkin’, gahl! Help meh delivah thehs towels.” The woman commanded, thrusting the basket at Ati again.
Ati took the woman’s basket without a word, though inside she was all but pleased. This was a set back she really didn’t have time for.
Suppressing a sigh, Ati followed the woman into the hallway, hoping Susan was having better luck then she was.
~*~
The dirty alley cat slunk around the edge of the wall, keeping well away from the feet of the people bustling around. She had watched Ati disappear inside after being confronted by some man. Just as Susan was about to find her own way in, she paused, ears twitching. There was a sound, beneath the chaos of the courtyard. Soft pattering and skittering across the dirt. Where… Ah. There. A mouse scampered around, only a few feet from her. Susan’s head went down and her bottom went up as she prepared to pounce…
No! She didn’t have time for this! She hissed in irritation and the mouse squeaked and scurried off. She was supposed to be finding a way inside, not chasing mice! Irritated at her own lack of self control, she stalked off towards the door. When a man opened it to go inside, she slid past him. Once inside, she glanced around. She had ended up in the kitchen. This was good, it wasn’t far from where she needed to go. Off she went, slipping around the table legs. Just as she was about to reach the door to the hallway, she was halted by a pair of spindly legs in her a path. A hand reached down to grab the scruff of her neck and haul her off the ground. A scrawny young face greeted her with a disgusted look.
“Gross! Weh don’ leht mice-cahtechehs in th’ kitchehn!” The boy declared, marching to the outside door. Susan hissed and swiped at his wrist. “Ow!” He exclaimed, tossing her outside. “Stupihd caht scrahtched meh!”
“Well wash it an’ geht bahck tah washin’ dishes, bohy!” Susan heard someone yell as the door slammed shut.
Dishes! She had been tossed out like a dirty rag by the washer-boy! Angry now, Susan sat down and indignantly gave herself a bath as she thought about how to get back inside.