stats :: candidate :: jr.weyrling :: sr.weyrling :: adult :: dark moon weyr

"Wake up, you worthless bag of bones!" Sirionne groaned and curled into a ball to protect against the kicks. The steward always knew exactly where to kick to do the most damage. "Get up!"

Sirionne slowly uncurled. "Yes sir. I'm up. What am I assigned to today?" She gazed up at the steward's fat face and tried not to let her dusgust show.

"Get up off your lazy hind end for one thing," the steward barked. Sirionne jumped to her feet and sidestepped in time to avoid another kick. "Then start the kitchen fire and start making a kettle of klah. We've very important guests and we need the best food you disgusting bags of filth can produce."

"Important guests?" Sirionne couldn't help but ask. Important guests seemed to have a way of avoiding Gethen Hold. How had Lord Fedrin lured someone here this time?

"No one of your concern," came the answer accompanied by a kick. "Now get to work!"

Sirionne stopped to shake awake a few of her friends, sparing them the rude awakening provided by the steward's boot. Before she turned to work, she noticed a new girl curled up next to one of the older drudges. Sirionne slipped over to her and gently woke her. "Wake up!" she whispered. "Unless you want to be kicked awake in a few minutes!"

The girl, who couldn't have been more than ten turns old, the age when the children of drudges started working, mumbled something and tried to turn away. "C'mon, get up, it's morning!" Sirionne encouraged her.

"I don wanna wake up," she mumbled, louder this time. "I'm still sleepin'."

"You've got to wake up," Sirionne told her. "Your mother won't want to find that the steward's been kicking you around."

The girl looked up at her with pain-filled green eyes. "I don think she'll mind. She's dead anyway, the steward hit her too hard."

Sirionne was silent for a moment. "I'm sorry," was all she could manage. What did you say to a little kid who'd probably lost the only person who cared about her?

"Me too," the girl closed her eyes and snuggled into Sirionne's arms. "And I'm not gettin up to work for that mean man. He can beat me too. I don care."

"Naw, don't let him get you," Sirionne gave the girl a reassuring squeeze. "He's a mean old wher, that steward, but you don't have to let him get you."

The girl looked up at Sirionne in disbelief. "Really?"

"Really. C'mon..." Sirionne realized suddenly that she didn't know the girl's name. "I don't think I introduced myself."

"Nope. I'm Degra," Degra stuck out a grubby hand. "Who're you?"

"I'm Sirionne," Sirionne replied, grasping Degra's hand. It was very small and very bony. "Merry meet."

"You there! Get to work! Both of you!" Sirionne stiffened at the sound of the steward's voice and was up and out of the way with Degra in her arms before he could land a painful kick in her back.

"Don't you kick her, you mean old wher!" Degra yelled back in that shrill, piercing voice that all young children have and use at the most inconvenient of times.

All went dead silent in the kitchens. No one dared to cough. Babes stopped crying. "Who said that?" the steward asked, whirling to face the drudges.

Degra wriggled out of Sirionne's restraining arms stepped forward fearlessly, arms crossed, chin jutted out defiantly. "I did."

Sirionne watched in horror as the enoromous steward towered over the tiny Degra, who obviously didn't know what was about to happen to her. "You did, did you," the steward purred.

"Yes I did," Degra replied. "And I don think there's nothin wrong with sayin it neither!"

The steward looked slightly suprised at such power in the voice of a ten turn old. "You're Merigan's get, aren't you?"

Before Degra could reply and get herself into more trouble, Sirionne swooped down and pulled Degra back into her arms. "She's most certainly not!" Sirionne informed him.

The steward took a step forward threateningly. "She's yours then?"

Sirionne looked down at Degra and then back at the steward. "Yes sir. She is. My very own."

"Then you ought to teach that brat some manners!" the steward growled and slapped Sirionne hard across the face. "And just be lucky I didn't kill her for that!"

As if realizing for the first time that all work had ceased to watch, the steward spun around. "What're you all staring at? Get back to work, filth!" With a disgusted sniff, the steward stormed out of the kitchens to torture drudges elsewhere.

Sirionne was left standing in the center of the room, with a trembling Degra in her arms. "I didn't think he'd hit you," she said in a voice that was almost a whimper.

"I'm pretty tough. I've been her seventeen turns. It didn't hurt that much," Sirionne lied even as she could feel her cheek reddening. "Now let's get to work before we get into more trouble."

Degra nodded and slid out of Sirionne's arms. "Sirionne?" she asked suddenly. "Am I really yours?"

Sirionne thought for a moment. "Well, if you'd like to be, I don't see why not. I'd certainly like it."

Degra's face lit up with happiness. "Oh I'd love to be!" She reached out and hugged Sirionne around the waist and for the first time in her seventeen turns, Sirionne felt that someone really cared about her.

As the final touches were being put on the meal, the steward chose the drudges who would take the food out to the waiting Holders. Sirionne and a few other strong men and women were chosen. Naturally, Degra went along with Sirionne. The steward noted this with distaste but didn't do anyhing to prevent it.

When everything had been perfected down to the last drop of redfruit juice, the small caravan of drudges left for the dining hall...