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1. [DL-J] Cleanliness is a Virtue: Well - one must start
somewhere
From: "Mel Mason" <goldfired@[EMAIL PROTECTED]
>
________________________________________________________________________
________________________________________________________________________
Message: 1
Date: Sat, 12 Nov 2005 18:32:43 -0000
From: "Mel Mason" <goldfired@[EMAIL PROTECTED]
>
Subject: [DL-J] Cleanliness is a Virtue: Well - one must start
somewhere
Day 2
Later Morning
She sat at the end of her bunk, her knees huddled close to her chin her
arms
wrapped around her legs.
She was clean now, although she could not be sure that she would ever
get
the stench of blood out of her nostrils. Or the sight of Pig-man
whining
and flopping around on the floor in his blood ... his blood.
She wrapped herself into a tighter ball.
What was waiting for her outside? The two dragonriders - they had
brought
her here to get her away from the mob, but the older one had spoken of
handing her over to the constables - and she knew what that would mean.
The
reputation of a popular innkeeper against her word ...
Her word? Hah! She had no words at all. She would stand in the dock
while
the crowd screamed for her blood - to avenge the blood they had seen on
the
floor of the tavern ... And where would the dragonriders be then, eh?
Soaring above the clouds, those long graceful dragon wings stretched in
flight - why had she never realise that something could feel so
wonderful
..... so free? She had looked down and see Carbral spread out before
them
like a wonderfully stitched tapestry ... she had seen one once, a long,
long
time ago - and the living map spread below has something of the same
air of
artifice. Not the sweaty, noisy, brutal seaport. A thing of beauty,
serene
and peaceful in the early morning air. Earth itself, she thought,
could
show nothing more lovely than the sleeping, peaceful city - beautiful
and
yet touching - it seemed so vulnerable as they flew overhead.
Her arms relaxed a moment around her knees as she recalled that
glorious
moment, that sensation of escape. Then the dragonrider had shouted at
her
and there had been darkness and confusion - and a new place where they
were
gliding in to land.
And then it had been this place. She had never seen anywhere like it -
a
place filled with sick and wounded people. But not a dumping ground -
this
was a place where there were other people to help - to make them
better.
The younger dragonrider had left her. He had smiled at her before he
went -
but she knew what his smiles were worth. He would obey the older
dragonrider - he would hand her back, to her death.
Inside the centre, it was the impersonality that had been her rescue.
The
people were kind but ... a word she had lost. Distant. Good, but
distant -
as though they were outside and she was inside. Or perhaps the other
way
around.
They had wanted her to remove her clothes. They asked at first and
then,
when she backed, terrified, into a corner, they had tried to show her
with
gestures what they wanted. She had shaken her head vehemently ... No!
No!
One of them had become impatient but another - a woman - had realised.
She
had sent all the men away, and all but two other women. The drudge,
Stupid-no-more, watched them, carefully. It seemed unlikely they would
try
to use her ... or hurt her. The woman in charge made them move to a
distance and then slowly, hesitantly, she began to undress.
The outer layers were stiff with dried blood. It was impossible to
undo
some of the lacing - in the end she tore through the material, worn
thin
after years of wear. The lower layers were no easier. Years of
wearing
them and adding another layer as each wore out and she was thrown (or
stole)
something else to wear on top had melded the layers of fabric together,
added by grease from her work in the tavern, and grease from her own
body
secretions that had never had the ability to escape. The smell must be
rank - she saw the two assistants backing further away with no urging
from
their senior, and even that woman was looking a little green.
She finally removed the last layer and stood before them, naked.
Lilitha looked at her with pity. When Tyler had brought the girl in,
she
had seemed slight. Now, with the layers of years stripped away, just
how
thin she was could be seen, although hard work had given her strong
muscles
in her arms, her legs and across her shoulders. But more than just her
ribs
could be see. Even under the dirt, dark mottled bruises stood out on
her
arms and legs, and there were other marks around her ribs that
suggested
worse abuse. But it was the expression in the girl's eyes that was the
most
shocking ... not the vacant gaze of stupidity, or the defiance of a
vicious
spirit - but a hopeless, overwhelming despair ...
Lilitha forced her gaze away. "Well," she said, "we'll need to examine
her,
and then bathe her."
Targa, the younger of her assistants, swallowed. "Couldn't we bathe
her
first?" she asked. "Sort of ... from a distance?"
"Long handled dragon brushes," suggested the other.
Lilitha saw the stranger's head droop. She understood what they said
then,
even if, for some reason, she would not answer them.
"Go and fill a hot tub," she said sharply. "And have plenty more hot
water
to hand. She needs to be examined - you heard what Tyler said."
Tarrga and her friend were only too willing to hurry out of the room
until
Lilitha stopped them, hurrying after them for a quiet word.
"Wait! Take those clothes with you - they'll have to be burnt. Only
....
check the pockets first. She might have had treasures hidden there."
Reluctantly they returned, loaded the rags into a large laundry basket,
and
departed, leaving Lilitha with the difficult task of examining the
abused
woman.
It took a little while for Lilitha, even at her gentlest, to explain
what
she needed to do. The stranger's first response was a furious, silent
protest that ended with her cowering in a corner, and trying to beat
Lilitha
away with frantic hands whenever she came near. But at last, slowly
and
patiently, the nurse managed to coax the stranger out and examine her
fully.
The bruises, she saw, were the least part of it. The tavern drudge's
back
and buttocks bore the marks of beatings - repeated beatings, inflicted
over
years. Some of the marks were so recent they must hurt - but she bore
the
investigation stoically - until the last part. This too she endured,
clearly by now convinced that Lilitha intended no harm. But as Lilitha
finished and straightened, smiling down at the stranger where she lay
on the
padded bench, she saw that her grimy face was streaked with silent
tears.
And from the evidence that Lilitha had found, she was not surprised.
"The bath is ready!" called Targa.
Lilitha helped her up and led her to the small white-flagged room. She
was
pleased to see that her two young assistants had brought aromatic herbs
to
scent the room and the water ... she was slightly worried that the
stranger,
unaccustomed to water, would try to run.
But the drudge, standing on the threshold of the small room, thought
she had
entered paradise. She had dreamed of clean water for so many years -
not
the slops of the tavern, or the heavy buckets that she herself had
dragged,
day after day, from the nearest pump. No, she had always thought of
that as
'dead' water. But this ... this was alive - and sparkling with lights
while
the scent ... She threw back her head and sniffed in delight, and the
other
women, for the first time, laughed - not at her, but sharing her
pleasure.
She needed no urging to climb into the large tub - or to take the soap
crystals and the scrubbing brush to tackle her skin. The grim of years
was
coming off - to say nothing of the lice, fleas and nits ... They
drained
the first water through a bung hole near the base, and then filled it
again
and she set to, willingly scrubbing her flesh again and again.
Nor was her hair spared. The older woman had special crystals that she
rubbed vigorously into the tangled mat. To the drudge's horror, when
the
woman poured a jug of hot water over her head, not only the soap but
also
her hair seemed to stream away into the tub. She raised nervous hands
to
her head - but the woman smiled.
"You have plenty left, she assured her. "Now, again?"
And the drudge nodded.
In the end, they washed her hair five times between them, and changed
the
water in the tub fully seven times. Finally the woman examined her and
pronounced herself satisfied.
"Your hands and feet are still a little grey," she said. "But that's
only
to be expected. Eventually, it will wear off ... Really - you =are=
clean
now. And your hair is wonderful!"
She raised a hand to touch the smooth silky plait. It was not the
thickness
of the matted mess she had arrived with, and her head felt strangely
light,
but she had heard the others marvel at its thickness and its rich dark
colour as they gathered it into a loose plait. They insisted that she
looked at herself in a looking glass, but it meant nothing to her. The
stranger in the glass was thin, with huge dark eyes. Was she pretty?
Perhaps. But her eyes were sad ... so very sad.
They brought her a dress to wear, and soft, loose slippers lined with
fur
for her feet. There were other garments too that she had stared at,
baffled, until Targa, laughing, had lifted her skirts and demonstrated.
It seemed these women wore layers too. They were just all remarkably
clean-looking. Then they brought her to this room, this bunk bed - and
left
her.
She knew where they were going. She had heard their voices as they
closed
to door. They were going to get the dragonrider who had brought her in
....
Tyler. The one who said he was a Grouty. So ... she didn't have long
before they handed her back.
But what could she do, locked in here?
But ... was she locked in?
She straightened and slipped from the bed. Three steps took her across
the
room - and then she was trying the lock. To her astonishment ... it
opened.
But there was no time to lose. She had to escape from this place and
find
somewhere to hide - and quickly, before the woman returned with the
dragonrider who would take her back.
She slipped off the slippers and tucked them in the pocket of her
dress,
knowing she could run faster barefoot, but reluctant to leave such
luxury
behind. Then she half-opened to door and peered out. The corridor was
empty ...
When they came in, she had seen from dragonback where the beach was.
If she
could make it to the beach, and the dunes ... she could hide there and
make
her escape when it grew dark.
She slipped away ...
Summary
The drudge finds herself in the medical centre where she is examined
and
bathed by Lilitha and her team. They give her new clothes, but the
drudge,
afraid she will be taken back to the authorities in Cabral for her role
in
the murder of the tavern keeper, attempts to escape.
Respectfully submitted by
Mel
Player of
The Future Charis and Myriad
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