My thanks

It's been a rough month and a half. My mind has been scattered, my concentration poor, my inspiration cold and even my ability to reach for language and set it on a page felt hollow and empty. Bare, like a cabinet in an abandoned house. But I'm finally writing again. Progress is slow, but it's progress all the same. To all of you who have shown such great, great patience and understanding with me, I offer my most heartfelt thanks for the faith you placed in me that I had trouble placing in myself.

For now, allow me to give you a sneak peek at Refuge in Audacity, Gretchen's Tale, Chapter Six.

The following may be changed a little or a lot in the final version, but you will get to see it in the creative raw.

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6

Dinner was an unusually quiet affair; much of the banter and noise of the event was supposed 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 cloves smeared like warm butter across the heavy, 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 toes," 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 kept 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 non T'rull dam with a 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, there may 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 sister. Gretchen had never considered that the second, hidden meaning for sister-- gieta-- 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 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 service."

"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." He smirked. "Don't look so surprised. He may be my king, but he is also a human. We are goblins."

"Yes..." Maya said after a brief pause. "We are all goblins."

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