Refuge in Audacity 6

Chapter Six

Dinner was an unusually quiet affair; much of the banter and noise of the event was suppressed by the presence of not merely a male, but an auspicious one. Rincheg in particular appeared anxious as his eyes continually went to the Precept, only to drop his eyes if Gaxter even glanced in his direction. Gretchen wondered if it was because Rincheg was old enough to remember the old warrens-- he had been just the right age to be thinking of trying to join the goblin hosts early when the disastrous war was being lost.

If Precept Gaxter was dissatisfied with the meal, he showed no sign. He entered the line quite deliberately after Maya, waiting his turn as guju root, mushrooms, and flakes of pot roasted fish were doled out to everyone. There were no boiled eggs tonight, but there was plenty of barley bread, and a wide clay dish of garlic that Aunt-- that [i]Liara[/i]-- had wrapped in lard and waxy guju leaf, and left roasting in a pile of fire pit stones for much of the afternoon. The resultant garlic cloves smeared like warm butter across the dense, grainy bread, and made the otherwise boring loaves into a rare treat.

By the time the last of the bowls had been wiped clean by fingers and tongues, Gretchen was left feeling a bit overfull. She'd only semi tasted most of the food, as she tried to not be obvious about watching both Precept Gaxter and Maya at the same time. The children, of course, found the Precept to be fascinating, and none more so than Tecxi, who was clearly struggling between the impulse to ask a hundred questions at once and say nothing at all lest he earn the soldier's annoyance.

As the after meal chores started, Precept Gaxter apparently decided that the time for business had come. Gretchen watched as he aimed his sharp gaze at Maya. "Priestess, we must confer. Do not assume I've forgotten the discovery of a T'rull and a T'rulldoyen priestess in a backwater hovel. She was hidden, as were you. Are there others?"

For a moment, Gretchen thought Maya was going to be obstinate; Gretchen was familiar with the borderline hostile glare she laid on the Precept. Then, the moment passed as all tension left Maya's body even as the resentment remained. "... rot infest your leathers and chew the cracks between your dongles," she said spitefully. "I do not know. Rupa, Liara, and I fled the temple with what children we could carry. We were followed by those from Jegkte who could keep up. We were too many to keep together so we split to small groups and traveled apart."

"Is she your daughter?" Gaxter asked.

"Rupa's. She died four winters ago, during the guju blight. She and Uzugar chose the silence and starved themselves for the household."

"Was she T'rull?"

Maya shook her head. "Must have been half but no more that that."

At this, Gaxter frowned. "Half? What difference is that? One is a T'rull or not."

Maya snorted. "And what do you know of ancestry, male? The priestesses know. A T'rull male can come of a half T'rull dam, or T'rull dam with a non T'rull sire, but a female T'rull can come only of a half or full T'rull dam and a T'rull sire." The goblin woman shook her head. "There's a reason they're so rare. The blood skips generations, sometimes. Others, it's present, but there's none to awaken it. For all I know, I'm the last. For all I know, SHE'S the last. And after her, may there be no others. Let the windblown dust bury the corpse of the past."

For a short while, there were no words more. Gretchen took the moment to glance around the room, at the mending laying untouched, the dishes piles in the sink but unscrubbed, the skeins of flax thread and the blankets still folded in the corner. The whole of the household's routine was on hold, now. Everyone whispered among one another as they looked between Maya, Gaxter, and Gretchen, trying to figure out what this all meant, both for the immediate future and further beyond.

Liara finally spoke up. "I understand the bones, now. War is coming, isn't it?"

"It is. Were you also a priestess, then?" Gaxter responded, looking at her.

"No. Merely a bonethrower. Reading the future in scattered runes, blood, the occasional bird." Liara looked at the former priestess. "She has to go, Maya."

"It's too soon!" Maya snapped angrily. "She's, she's too young! She's barely trained for a handful of fortnights, and a goblin warrior needs years, must face the trials, take hi-- take their place only when they are ready!"

Liara surged to her feet, slamming both her hands down on the table as she faced Maya full on. "We voted already, Maya, and even you were forced to admit she has the bearing and responsibility of an adult now!"

"She's all that I have left of Rupa!" Maya fairly screamed, eyes red. "She's all I have left of my cuerob mob'yt!"

Ceurob mob'yt. Young heart, one half of a ceurob fob either past or current. The silence in the room was deafening. When a ceurob fob divided, the pair would frequently still care deeply for one another, calling each other gieta-- sister. Gretchen had never considered that the second, hidden meaning for sister would apply for Maya and her mother. Gretchen had always assumed that they had simply had the same mother; she'd never really given thought to any other possibility.

Gaxter took the opportunity to stand up. "Recruit Gretchen of Jegkte, overmorrow comes quickly. T'rull or no, I expect you to be at formation per the orders given to the sifted." He blandly turned a sidelong look towards Maya. "Perhaps you would care to accompany her, priestess? King Oliver has expressed an interest in all things relating to T'rulls. He would pay you, pay your household, well for your knowledge and service."

"A poorly veiled command," Maya sneered bitterly. "I dare not refuse now that you know of it, in his fealty."

"Hardly. I am Precept of the King's Legions, it's true. But I will not force the matter-- it is not my place. Especially in a warren, speaking to the warren's priestess, a warrior gives no commands to the hearth."

'So, what then?" demanded Maya acerbically. "You would lie to the king to protect my anonymity?"

"What lie? You yourself have already told me you are no T'rulldoyen priestess. I would simply choose to believe you." At Maya's startled expression, he smirked. "Don't look so surprised. He may be my king, but he is also a human. [I]We[/I] are goblins."

"Yes..." Maya said bitterly after a brief pause. "We [i]are[/i] goblins."

---

Gretchen couldn't sleep. The mending had eventually been finished, the weaving done, the clothes to be washed in the morning pile into the wicker baskets and ready to be added to the washing cart. No aches or pains or bruises. The sleeping blankets were filled with the familiar sounds of breathing or snoring and the weather out was calm. She was as comfortable as she could want, neither too warm nor too cold.

Yet she still couldn't sleep.

She was nervous. Here, in the still of night, in the dark with no outside chores to do to distract her, she couldn't pretend otherwise. Nervous, even a bit scared. Tomorrow was the last day of the life she knew; no more loom or washing, no more scrounging from odd jobs or running about the city running errands for people with more free coin than spare time. It wasn't that she disliked her life as it was, really. Up until now it had seemed mundane, plain. Boring and unfulfilling. But now, she wasn't so sure she wanted it to be over. It wasn't that she didn't want to be a warrior. It was simply that... she didn't like what her mind supplied when she imagined what it would be like to no longer wake up in the household. To no longer live with them, eat with them, share her life and successes with them.

It would be like no longer having a household at all.

The soft sound of the front door touched her ears, creaking slightly open, then shut again. She frowned. Only the household knew how to open it quietly, to prevent the hinge from grinding loudly against the deliberately resined wood socket. A quick sweep of her sharp eyes across the room showed the heat from everyone, including one slowly cooling spot in the blankets, the spot where Maya usually slept.

Gretchen shuffled aside her own blankets as gently and softly as she could-- even asleep, goblin ears tended to be very sharp and attuned to the normal motions of what went on in their environment. That Maya was able to sneak out so readily meant that either she was exceptionally sneaky, even for a goblin, or else this was far from the first time she had done so, to not disturb anyone as she did it. Possibly a little of both.

Nonetheless, Gretchen could be unnoticed too, if she wanted. Years of dodging the watchful eyes of the Aunties had given her a little skill at that, as it did all goblin children. What was it Maya had said? "A woman has to be able to outsmart her children long enough to keep them alive til they were grown." Now that she gave it some thought, she supposed it worked both ways. She made her way quietly across the floor, and she too lifted the door enough to open it almost silently.

The night air wasa little cool, but still humid enough that it wasn't uncomfortably so. Multiple streets away, bright torches burned to illuminate the center of Colholme where the wealthiest lived, to deter thieves. Almost none of their light fell on the slums, but that was alright. Goblins were much more comfortable in the dark than humans anyway. A quick scan of the street showed everything mostly the same temperature, although the different rates of cooling of wood, dirt, stone, tar, and more gave her a clear and easily navigable view of the slums.

A bit of heat in the corner of her vision drew her attention, to where she saw Maya standing with her back to the household, staring up at the sky. The sky was mostly cloudy, a few stars peeking between clouds that looked heavy and thick.

"Maya?" Gretchen said softly, taking a few steps towards the older goblin. "Is... are you..." She didn't know how to complete the question, so she just let herself trail off.

"I was fooling myself." Maya's voice was low but clear, even facing away. She didn't turn back around. "I knew Rupa's father was T'rull. Have you any idea how difficult it is to pry a T'rull from the fight to sire a child? Maddening. Even worse when a woman." She snorted. "It wasn't discussed, mind you. But T'rull women who could be bothered to bear would fight tooth and nail any who demanded they leave the field. Jamara the Bloody Fanged would have given birth on the battlefield were there a fight to be had. She lived long, you know. I met her."

Gretchen felt a bit out of her depth. Maya was always stern, composed, and prepared. Ready for anything, ready to impose her will on anyone who crossed her. This tone of regret, of bitter acceptance, wasn't familiar. Wasn't LIKE her.

Oblivious to Gretchen's trepidation, Maya continued, "Your mother... Rupa... she had traces of it in her. A willingness to fight to get her way. I told myself it was just pride. I told myself that surely you were a late bloomer. That the blood would skip a generation. That your mother probably HADN'T drawn the eye of one of the last of the T'rull warlords. That... that I could keep you safe. Keep a piece of Rupa alive even after she died. That... I had hoped..."

Gretchen's skin tightened, goosebumps rising, as a chill night breeze blew through her hair and bare legs. "Maya, I don't understand. I don't understand any of this." She was proud of herself for keeping any shakiness out of her voice. "What is a T'rull?"

"Warrior. A true warrior. Every race has their champions, blessed by their gods. The humans have their ogres, the elves their faerie, the harpies their rocs, the rogarii their behemoths. We? We have T'rulls." She sighed, and turned around, only now catching sight of Gretchen. "Girl, what- you didn't even put on pants? Are you daft?"

"I'm not cold," Gretchen lied, suppressing a shiver as the breeze hit her again. "Tell me more about T'rulls."

"... You're Rupa's daughter, and no question. If I hadn't delivered you I'd still have known it just by your brazenness." Maya scowled. "You... are only newly pleaded. You are... still tender. Still weak. But you will become stronger, quickly. You will become strong, and you will grow tall, and broad of shoulder. Powerful of wrist and leg. Your blood will resist fleeing your body when your flesh is rent, and your flesh itself will mend itself. Quicker as you age." She paused. "... And the gifts of the gods are never given with both hands. You will crave violence. You will be short of temper. Eventually, you may succumb to bloodlust and battle madness, a need to fight at the expense of all else. Poorly tended, or careless T'rull have died of hunger or thirst because they would not leave an active fight to care for their bodies. You will need more food, more water, to feed your body's furnace, its healing, its growth. Especially its healing." Maya took several rapid steps forward, grabbing Gretchen's shoulders and staring her full in the face from less than a hand away. "Gretchen you MUST remember! You are not unkillable. The strength of goblinkind has always been our numbers. For every ogre a hundred T'rull, for every human a thousand goblins. Except that is no longer true. There are no other T'rull. The goblin armies are gone. Our ways are lost, our people scattered and mostly slaughtered as clan fell upon clan in the warrens. We are... so very few. And you will not have the hordes to support you. Just... humans. Humans who will not know that while you are stronger than they, your strength is nothing to an ogre. That while you heal in minutes what would need them moons you pay for each drop of spilled blood, each pound of sundered flesh."

Gretchen could see the fear in Maya's eyes, hear the nigh desperation in her voice. Even by the heat of her skin alone, Gretchen could see it. And an old, aching tension, a lingering resentment that had sat in the back of Gretchen's soul suddenly loosened. She lunged forward, grabbing and hugging Maya tightly, tears burning in her suddenly blurry vision. Maya hugged her back, her own voice breaking slightly. "Don't you DARE die on us, Gretchen! I'll bounce your sprogs on my knees some day but you blessed well better live to bear them! You can fight for the human king but you are OURS! Rupa's daughter, and you do NOT die for him! You hear me? PROMISE me, Gretchen!"

Gretchen nodded, uncaring about how her weepy eyes were spotting Maya's tunic. "I promise. I'll come back, I promise."

"Good. Good. Someday..." Maya huffed a laugh. "Even T'rull have sprogs. I want to cuddle and coo at yours someday."

Gretchen still didn't much care for the idea, but she shared a giggle with Maya anyway, and for a few precious minutes in the slightly chilly night, Gretchen found herself content.