A Day at Kenat's
By Kera -- Drow of the River [Author Info]
When I awoke, the soft pinks and purples of false dawn had begun to announce the sun's arrival. Moments later, the rooster crowed, its cry raking through the only blessed moment of peace I would have the entire day.
"Keep crowing you blasted bird," I thought as I threw ragged clothes over my coal-black body. "One of these days you'll be in my stew!"
The sun's rude beams would soon awaken Kenat, and he would want his breakfast. I pulled my white hair back into a loose ponytail and headed out of the stable. Once inside his hovel, I boiled flour, yeast, and milk together to make what some call 'Hasty Pudding,' Kenat's favorite. I grimaced as I poured a small scoopful into a bowl for myself, then dripped the last of our honey into my master's share, still in the pot. I, of course, never had any to sweeten mine. Kenat still slept so I ate alone and then washed my dishes in yesterday's gathered water before going out into the garden to plant seeds.
Drops of blood from reopened cuts fell gently from my well-muscled hands into the soil, giving it unintended nourishment as I planted in the dry earth. I ignored the bleeding, for I knew that Kenat would add more bruises to my thin body if I didn't finish before midday. Clutching the cowl of a ragged cloak, I tried not to reveal too much of my tall, nearly full-grown body to the bright sun of early spring. After a while, a shadow blocked the sun above me, an unwelcome shadow.
"Aren't you done yet?" a gruff, male voice scowled behind me. Kenat's voice, harsh and loud, suggested more strength than his aging body actually held. "I said," he kicked my side before I could answer him, "aren't you finished yet?!"
I rolled over on my back, exposing years of bruises, cuts, and burns that never fully healed. They made an intricate pattern of pain across my body. I carefully got up and straightened my rough wool tunic and threadbare cloak, keeping my eyes to the ground.
"No, not yet." I kept my voice barely above a whisper, remembering all too well how my master had punished me for raising my voice before. I couldn't speak for days after he forced searing cooking oil down my throat.
"Lazy, good-for-nothin' bitch!" My master grabbed the front of my tunic with his left hand, the only hand he had, and pushed me to the ground. "I saved your worthless black hide and what do ya give me? Nothin!"
It was a story I had heard for years. Kenat, the aging thief with only one arm, had pulled my half-dead body out of the river. I had grown weak in the waters, exhausted and dazed after escaping the massacre of my clan. It was only fitting, he often said, that I'd serve him in his old age. "Not that the magickal bands that keep me here allow me any choice."
"Get back to work," Kenat spat before going back into the hovel. I brushed the dirt off of myself and returned to my gardening. The wide gold bands on my wrists and ankles reflected the sunlight back to its cruel source as I worked.
* * *
Nightfall saw me sweeping the dirt out of the hovel while watching a meager pot of stew bubble over the fire. My hunting had proved less than fruitful, so only Kenat would eat tonight.
"Damn you," I mentally cursed Kenat. "We'd feast every night if these cursed magickal bands didn't make me collapse from convulsions every time I crossed your borders!"
The fool either didn't realize or didn't care that the creatures of the forest avoided the area around our home. They smelled the normally nocturnal predator sleeping in the stable and avoided ‘my territory.’ Sometimes I tried to catch fish for the pot, but because the river marked the border between Kenat's land and his neighbor's, I could not touch the river even to bathe. If I did, the bands would send currents through my body, causing me to convulse and sink. I would have to use a spear on a rope to catch the fish, which required more luck than I usually possessed.
The heavy scrape of the front door announced my master's return. The old man sat down by the fire and waited to be served, his ragged clothes hanging loose on his lanky body. I set aside my broom and scooped the hot stew into a wooden bowl, holding it for him while he slowly ate. We had no table, and I doubt he would have used it if we did. Kenat slurped his meal slowly, his ash gray hair swaying back and forth as he ate. Sometimes, I would see a leather thong around his neck. On it, there was a small, golden emerald-studded dragon. Because my bands had the same dragon etched into them, I dared to believe Kenat’s dragon could release me. Kenat’s feeding went on for an hour before the pot was emptied and I took the dishes outside to clean them. While sitting in the night's growing shadows, I secretly licked every drop of what was left. I burned my tongue and scorched the roof of my mouth doing it, but my stomach didn’t care. The dishes were scrubbed in the river water Kenat had hauled for me in a bucket earlier that day.
"At least he does that much", I grumbled. "Although it's probably only because I’d die from convulsions if I tried to do it myself." The dishes clean, I set the bucket near the river to dump later and reentered the house.
"Bitch," the bastard whined, "I need tending."
Saying nothing, I pulled off Kenat's boots and massaged his cold, wrinkled feet. "What you need is a second smile, you bastard!"
"Harder, you bitch, I can barely feel your dirty little hands." I silently complied, noticing how his feet had very little fat and less muscle than I remembered a possible sign of illness.
"By Tercanti, God of Night, I hope it is," I prayed as my fingers nimbly worked the blood through his feet and my eyes watched for any sign of anger or displeasure in his face, warning me to get away before he took his emotions out on me.
Finally, Kenat got up to go to bed, a silent order for me to retire to the stable. I shared the wooden stable with an old cow that had wandered into Kenat's land some months ago. I called her Chika, meaning ‘gentle one.’ Before I went to bed, I cleaned out the fresh manure, piling it by the garden to dry. "What I wouldn’t give to shove your head into this pile, Kenat!" I imagined his face in the dung as I smoothed the pile thin and wide so it would dry faster. When I finished, I washed my claws in the dishwater before dumping the bucket into the river, being careful not to touch the fiercely running waters.
I collapsed onto my bale of hay, thankful for the day finally being over. The insects and rats I shared it with scattered away from me as I fell asleep exhausted. I prayed to all five of my Gods for Kenat to die and for the haunting nightmares of my past not to return tonight. As usual, neither prayer would be answered.
* * *
I was home again, setting a snare trap for my big brother and waiting on a small ledge for him to come. The laughter nearly knocked my little body off the ledge when he flew into the air. I giggled as he screamed curses my young mind hadn’t learned yet.
Then I was in Mother’s arms, her fine cloak wrapping around me like a bird’s wings around its fledgling. "Mother, I missed you," I kept saying to her. I felt the warmth of her body and fell asleep in her arms. I dreamt in my dreams.
Then there was smoke, almost too much to see through. Through it, I saw my mother emerge carrying two of my siblings and me as she ran from the fire and the screams of the dying. "Swim -- Swim to safety," she cried as she dropped us into the river. I felt the rapid waters carrying me away from her. Then Mother’s screams ripped through the darkness, freezing my soul more than the river froze my body. More cries raked through the night air...
* * *
And then I awoke, the damn rooster’s cries replacing the screams of the dying. Chika was nuzzling me, wanting to be fed. I stroked her head and got up, preparing to face another day at Kenat’s.
| Author Info |
|
Copyright © 1999 by Kera -- Drow of the River. This material may be distributed only subject to the terms and conditions set forth in the Open Publication License, v.04 1998 or later (the latest version is presently available at http://www.opencontent.org/openpub/).
Distribution of substantively modified versions of this document is prohibited without the explicit permission of the copyright holder. Distribution of the work or derivative of the work in any standard (paper) book form is prohibited unless prior permission is obtained from the copyright holder.
Permission not granted to use the email addresses on this page for commercial purposes. Please contact us, but don't spam us. Unsolicited commercial email from the address on this page will be considered an act of trespass.
