No One's Chosen (38 page)

Óraithe sat up letting the ratty blanket fall away
from her small breasts. She looked around the den and found Scaa
dressing herself to leave. Bonn sat at the table playing with a
pair of silver coins. There had not been a proper tallying of what
all had left the warehouse with them. Óraithe found some peace in
the boy having the coins in plain view. It meant Scaa had no
intention of hiding them for her own.

Scaa noticed she had roused. "About time you
woke."

Bonn turned to greet her, but saw her naked breasts
and blushed deep red. He spun back to his coins and said
nothing.

Scaa motioned her head toward an awkwardly folded
shift beside the bed. "You're welcome to the shift. The skirt of
your dress is clean enough, but you'll have to tear it free. All
the pants I got, I'm wearin'."

"You are leaving?" Óraithe asked as she pulled the
shift over her head. She still had her smallclothes. They were
cheap linen braies but she had kept them well enough.

"Teas wants a feast and I intend to help." Her husky
voice was happy for a change. She smiled, even. "We have done an
amazing thing."

"So you mean to help with Teas's feast?"

"I intend to steal a roast if I can."

The very idea made Óraithe salivate. She went to her
kirtle and pulled it up to inspect it. There was no blood around
the skirt, as Scaa had said. She'd not have known herself. Óraithe
had stripped and fallen asleep nearly as soon as they'd returned to
the den.

Behind her, Scaa opened the door. "Teas ought not be
long. She said she would return by midday. Keep Bonn safe." With
that she left, closing the door behind her.

Óraithe scoffed at the idea that she could keep Bonn
safe. The boy was taller than her by a head already. His childlike
nature was the only thing like to get him into trouble and Óraithe
had never been good with children. At times, she reckoned she hated
them. They were weak and loud and expensive. She even cringed to
hear stories of herself as a child. Nothing but trouble and bother
and screaming and neediness.

Óraithe glanced around and saw that Scaa had taken
the dull knife with her to the market. There was nothing else that
would serve for cutting but tearing the thing. There were some
coals yet smoldering in the hearth. Óraithe reached down past the
cauldron and placed the edge of the dress to the heat with care and
waited for it to smoke. A moment longer and the roughspun caught.
She quickly blew out the tiny fire and found that it had made a
suitable hole above the waistline. She would need to do the
rest.

Bonn was still at the table when Óraithe sat down to
make herself a proper skirt from what had been a perfectly
serviceable kirtle. Even if she could have hoped to find enough
spare water to wash the thing, the stains had set and she could not
be seen walking around in bloodied clothes. Especially not with a
warehouse in the High District having been burned to the
ground.

She got to her work. The roughspun tore easily enough
but was given to bunching and as best she tried she could not keep
the tear straight. More than once on her circuit around the gown,
she wanted to scream and rip the thing to pieces. Maybe she would
just go out in her smallclothes after all. It would be better than
this tedium. Bonn seemed not to notice her frustration and simply
kept on spinning and rolling his pair of silver coins.

It was another twenty minutes or so before the skirt
was separated from the rest and she held it up to appreciate her
work. It was uneven but no one was like to notice such a thing in
the slums.

The door creaked and opened. Teas ambled in as best
she could, a bag in her arms. Óraithe pulled the blood covered rags
off the table and onto the floor. Teas placed the bag where they
had been and Óraithe could see into it for the first time. It was
not particularly full but Teas still beamed down at it.

"There's everything we need for stew!" Her voice was
triumphant. She moved to sit next to Bonn. "Well, everything but
meat. We scarcely have any at home and…"

"Scaa said she would provide the meat." Óraithe
smiled over at Teas.

"Oh, thank the Sisters. A stew just isn't a stew if
it lacks meat. Isn't that right?" She looked to Bonn.

"Meat!" He said, as triumphant as she had been.

Óraithe stood from the table and put the skirt over
her head. It was a bit of a pain to get it past her shoulders but
it fell to her hips when she was through and stayed there, if just.
It was like to try its best to fall off but it would do. There
would be string at Cosain's shop which she could use to cinch the
garment.

Teas looked up at her. "Are you leaving? I've only
just arrived. I had hoped we would speak."

"For a few hours at most. I must go and see
Cosain."

Teas accepted that easily. "Ah, good. He has surely
missed you."

Óraithe walked over to Teas and fell to her knees.
She hugged her friend tightly. "Thank you," she whispered.

Teas did not say a word. She only smiled softly and
returned the embrace. Óraithe stood after not enough time and left
the den to the sounds of Bonn's laughter.

The street was dry and hot, as it ever was. It was
the first time Óraithe could remember that she'd walked around in
such little clothing. She normally wore a kirtle over a chemise. It
allowed her good freedom of movement, but was nigh unbearable on
days such as today. The sun was high in the sky and the fury of the
desert in Saol was making itself known. Still, the thin shift and
roughspun skirt allowed for an airy feel. Her chemise was over a
better make than the shift, but it had soaked through with blood
from the shopkeep. She was almost thankful for it with the comfort
of her new clothes.

The seemingly endless lines of streets and alleys
passed her by on lighter feet, she came to feel. The world around
her was bright but not so oppressive as it had felt the day before.
There was no tension in the air and even the smell of the slums
seemed to be tinged with a sweetness. Óraithe found that she felt
hopeful. Scaa was right. They had achieved something marvelous and
it was only the beginning. The small elf's mind raced with ideas.
There was so much more they could do and when the Low District
elves heard of their feats they would be sure to join to her
cause.

She came to a crossing where the alley met a street
as a group of older men were passing. They were irate, barking at
each other about something. Óraithe did not catch much of it. They
spoke of fire and raids and the High District, she gathered that
much. They were talking about her. It was already starting, she
thought. Wonderful! Soon she could begin to spread the news that
she had been a part of it to elves who could be trusted to warm to
the cause. They would need help. Things would move quickly now, she
was sure of it. After the feast they would have to discuss their
goals and intent and start to plan other ways to wound the
highborn.

The streets were alive in the Low District and it was
no surprise. It was the first of the week and shipments had arrived
from the desert cities and from the northern plains. It had not
been Óraithe's intent to move on the Spéirbaile warehouse at the
week's end, but it had worked to her favor. No doubt it would slow
any inquest into the matter and make it harder for the highborn to
find them.

She got to Cosain's with no trouble. He lived in the
southeast section of the city and there was little to be done away
from the square on the first of the week. The western sides of the
city and central area would see a flurry of traders as well, but
the eastern slums were not a place of commerce. Not enough to
warrant outside traders anyway. Cosain sometimes saw the occasional
merchant through, but it was rare and they were often old friends
from his younger days.s

Óraithe brushed the curtain over the door aside and
entered the shop. It was cool from the shade but Cosain was not in
the front of the shop. He often busied himself in the back when the
days were slow and they were apt to be slow on a day such as today.
She pushed through the shop and into the store room. He was not
there either, but the ladder to his home was down. She sat herself
at his desk and poked at the bottles on the table until she
remembered she had need of string.

There was string in the second drawer she checked and
she drew the spool around her waist so she would have plenty enough
to work with. Having measured the stuff, she cut it with a blade
Cosain used to ensure his powders were fine before storing them.
Cosain began down the stairs and she looked up for a brief second.
Returning to her task, she wrapped the string around her waist and
folded the fabric of the skirt over the string a few times. She
pulled the string tight and tied it.

Cosain came down the ladder slowly, his old bones
arguing against the task as they were wont to do. He saw her before
his feet had touched the floor but said nothing until he made the
landing.

"Óraithe. It is good to see you, my dear." He walked
to her and took a seat at the desk to continue whatever he had left
to venture upstairs. "Have you been well?"

"Quite well." Óraithe leaned against the wall beside
his work table. The stucco was cool and welcoming. "We have struck
against the highborn."

Cosain did not rise to the
admission, not immediately anyway. He finished grinding some leaf
of some herb in his mortar and turned to her. "Then it
was
you."

"You've heard? Ha." Óraithe wore a smug smile, her
eyes brimming with confidence and pride. "We've set them
running."

"You have done no such thing." His voice was cold and
it hurt Óraithe to hear him refute what they had achieved.

"How can you say such a thing? We have struck a blow
against the hubris of the High District elves. We have—"

"You have?" He was losing his patience, she could
hear it in his tone. "Curious. To hear it told, you have killed a
shopkeeper, taken his goods, and burned his business. And you have
brought down the guards upon nearly every shop in the city!"

"It's not true!" It wasn't. Surely Cosain must
understand what they had done.

"Which of it? The guards have seen fit to upend near
every shop in the Low District! They are offering rewards for the
return of the stolen goods or information as to the identity of the
thieves!" He was yelling now. Scolding her, as one would a child.
"That is what they think of you! Rebels? Feh!" He spit the mocking
sound at her. "Thieves is what they are calling you! And do they
have the right of it? You robbed the man before you murdered
him?"

"We didn't murder him. He was…"

"A highborn? He was. As you are a child. Fool
girl."

Óraithe had not come for this. She had come… for… why
had she come? To see if there was still a home for her after she
had made good on her promises? To be praised by Cosain? It was
enough. "At least I've done something!"

"Oh, indeed you have. Turned yourself to a pariah and
a criminal." Cosain stopped there a second. After a moment, his
face softened. "It's best you stay here until—"

Óraithe's voice shot from her in a shrill rejection.
"NO!" She was breathing heavily now. "You mean to tell me to
abandon it all and become some smiling fool like the rest of
them!"

"I mean to tell you to come to your senses. You've
had your fun and—"

"Fun?!" She was aghast. He truly thought of her as a
child. He could not see how she had grown and what she had
accomplished. "Do you imagine I did the lot of that for fun? People
will see what we have done and they will understand! They must see
what we have sacrificed! They must!"

"People do not care, girl. Even if you told them what
you'd done, they'd see a petty thief girl who brought the guards
into their shops and their homes. A girl who disturbed the peace of
their meager lives."

"The girl who let the highborn take just a bit more
of what they had," she said, too quiet for Cosain to hear.

She pushed off of the wall and made to walk past
Cosain but he grabbed her arm. His voice was soft and ragged with
emotion. "I will not force you to stay. I cannot. You are free and
wild and no amount of my screaming will ever change that. But
please, Óraithe, consider what you do. They are more powerful than
you know."

She pulled away from him and looked at the floor for
a moment. She had no words to give him and so she walked out of the
shop and back into the heat of the day. The world had shifted again
but it was neither of the two it had been before. Neither
oppressive nor hopeful, but some other thing. A sort of numbness
had washed over her.

Óraithe turned the corner onto a connecting street
and saw a poster there on one of the yellowed walls. It was a
notice advising any who read it that there was a reward of fifty
gold pieces placed upon the head of any involved in the Spéirbaile
Import Warehouse theft and fire. She pulled the paper from the wall
and considered it. How had they known about the theft, she
wondered? Surely there was not nearly enough left to make a proper
inventory. Had they just assumed that items had gone missing? She
could imagine it. The highborn scoffing and saying it must've been
a theft. What else would the lowborn want but to take some petty
goods?

She gritted her teeth and threw the poster to the
ground. She took off in a sprint toward the den. Cosain had not
been wrong. They had failed to make their statement, that much was
clear to her now. But it was only a beginning. She would try again
and this time she would make it plain that she did not want their
goods or their coin. She would show them the true nature of her
fight.