by Chay » Thu Sep 23, 2021 12:57 pm
Chay struts into the shack and weaves her way through orderly cots to plant herself in front of a desk made of crates. A strange man with a shadowed face stands to the side, head inclined, and draped in a hooded cloak. Behind the desk the infamous Mesuel Indalin, also known as The Childmaster, holds his court. Mesuel rubs his filthy hands together and continues, “We sees a lot, we does, my childers and I.” He turns to look at Chay, his dirty hair hanging slack around his face and branded neck. “Here be one of me nestlings now.”
Mesuel fixes a stare on Chay and speaks to the cloaked man as an ingratiating smile spreads across his face. "It's a kind man I am, to take in these poor unfortunate urchins off the streets." The shadowy individual drops a small, bulging purse in front of Mesuel. The Childmaster clears it from the desk and secrets it away. His face twitches as he stands to whisper something in the stranger’s ear. Without a sound the stranger leaves, and Chay stands alone with her master.
Chay tries to resist the urge to shuffle her feet, revealing her anxiousness, and scolds herself. Do somethin adult an important lookin! She tries to look down on Master Indalin while unfortunately still having to look up at his standing form. The result is a comical presentation. Her chin is tilting so high as to nearly be on level with her eyeballs. With her head back so far her eyelids droop closed. Forcing them wider only serves to make her nostrils flare as her peepers bulge. Mesuel unwittingly saves her from more idiocy as he sits down and leans forward, his elbows resting upon the desk. He steeples his fingers and asks “Back already, me plum puddin?”
With a deep breath, Chay offers a badly wrinkled stack of papers and sets them down on the crates. She smooths them with care. It took a lot of effort to get this, and Master Indalin knew it.
When he sent her on her way, it was probably assumed she might not make the trip and return alive, or simply not return at all. Stealing horses and hitching rides were everyday-type things for Chay. Pinching a meal? The same. She’d slept under the stars, or slept in a hayloft for a night or two, but it was always near a city and that city was almost always in Murandy - usually Lugard itself. She understood and was content with managing the perils of her own home. She had never traveled for weeks at a time, across unfamiliar lands no less!
But she did it.
Master Indalin picks up one sheet of paper and squints a beady eye at it. His cheek pulls gruesomely with another nervous tic and he discards one sheet for the next. He asks “Did you find all the rooms, duckling?” Chay scrambles to point to some marks where her layout suggests locked doors. She looks up at him with a hopeful expression.
Mesuel smiles condescendingly. “Me liversnap, I tells you to get all the rooms. Not some. You want me to feeds you still? You can’t think me deprive me own childers for a mite who can’t follow orders?”
Chay panics a bit. This is not how she saw this going. I nearly wrestled the Wheel itself to do this job and it wasn’t enough? The whole bleeding Tower is there on paper! She pulls the last sheet of paper and puts it on top, indicating a handful of rooms off a spiraling staircase. She makes a small pleading sound and looks up at the man. This man - who has stood in the role of a parent for more than half her life. Begging for charity, she points at the page forcefully.
The Childmaster slaps his hand upon the desk and swoops down to her eye level like a hawk. He spits coldly “I needs eyes, not shirkers.”
As quickly as he chided her he straightens, offers a soothing smile, and lowers his voice to a softer tone. “Poor nipper. Did they gets a look at you? The ladies in their Tower?” Chay stands still, frozen to her place. Mesuel gestures around at his shabby kingdom. “I sees you had skills t’ benefit us all when I brought you in, three years gone. We has no loyalties but to ourselves - our family.” He sits back on a crate and nods at the doorway where she knew Trag still stood. He waits, then asks again “Did they sees anything special about you?”
Chay quickly shakes her head.
Master Indalin gathers the sheets of paper on his desk and tacks them next to some other notes. The oily man reaches to the side and grabs a sack. He tosses it across the desk. Chay catches it and smiles openly, her face radiating happiness at his expression of approval. Through the burlap she can already smell the bread and heavily spiced, dried meat. As she turns to leave, eager to share her earnings with Trag, Mesuel’s voice follows her out the door. “Hand-picking childers is my gift. You’ve a quick mind and quicker hands. You keeps your talents with your family, and your family will always keep you.”
Chay struts into the shack and weaves her way through orderly cots to plant herself in front of a desk made of crates. A strange man with a shadowed face stands to the side, head inclined, and draped in a hooded cloak. Behind the desk the infamous Mesuel Indalin, also known as The Childmaster, holds his court. Mesuel rubs his filthy hands together and continues, “We sees a lot, we does, my childers and I.” He turns to look at Chay, his dirty hair hanging slack around his face and branded neck. “Here be one of me nestlings now.”
Mesuel fixes a stare on Chay and speaks to the cloaked man as an ingratiating smile spreads across his face. "It's a kind man I am, to take in these poor unfortunate urchins off the streets." The shadowy individual drops a small, bulging purse in front of Mesuel. The Childmaster clears it from the desk and secrets it away. His face twitches as he stands to whisper something in the stranger’s ear. Without a sound the stranger leaves, and Chay stands alone with her master.
Chay tries to resist the urge to shuffle her feet, revealing her anxiousness, and scolds herself. [i]Do somethin adult an important lookin![/i] She tries to look down on Master Indalin while unfortunately still having to look up at his standing form. The result is a comical presentation. Her chin is tilting so high as to nearly be on level with her eyeballs. With her head back so far her eyelids droop closed. Forcing them wider only serves to make her nostrils flare as her peepers bulge. Mesuel unwittingly saves her from more idiocy as he sits down and leans forward, his elbows resting upon the desk. He steeples his fingers and asks “Back already, me plum puddin?”
With a deep breath, Chay offers a badly wrinkled stack of papers and sets them down on the crates. She smooths them with care. It took a lot of effort to get this, and Master Indalin knew it.
When he sent her on her way, it was probably assumed she might not make the trip and return alive, or simply not return at all. Stealing horses and hitching rides were everyday-type things for Chay. Pinching a meal? The same. She’d slept under the stars, or slept in a hayloft for a night or two, but it was always near a city and that city was almost always in Murandy - usually Lugard itself. She understood and was content with managing the perils of her own home. She had never traveled for weeks at a time, across unfamiliar lands no less!
But she did it.
Master Indalin picks up one sheet of paper and squints a beady eye at it. His cheek pulls gruesomely with another nervous tic and he discards one sheet for the next. He asks “Did you find [u]all[/u] the rooms, duckling?” Chay scrambles to point to some marks where her layout suggests locked doors. She looks up at him with a hopeful expression.
Mesuel smiles condescendingly. “Me liversnap, I tells you to get all the rooms. Not some. You want me to feeds you still? You can’t think me deprive me own childers for a mite who can’t follow orders?”
Chay panics a bit. This is not how she saw this going. [i]I nearly wrestled the Wheel itself to do this job and it wasn’t enough? The whole bleeding Tower is there on paper![/i] She pulls the last sheet of paper and puts it on top, indicating a handful of rooms off a spiraling staircase. She makes a small pleading sound and looks up at the man. This man - who has stood in the role of a parent for more than half her life. Begging for charity, she points at the page forcefully.
The Childmaster slaps his hand upon the desk and swoops down to her eye level like a hawk. He spits coldly “I needs eyes, not shirkers.”
As quickly as he chided her he straightens, offers a soothing smile, and lowers his voice to a softer tone. “Poor nipper. Did they gets a look at you? The ladies in their Tower?” Chay stands still, frozen to her place. Mesuel gestures around at his shabby kingdom. “I sees you had skills t’ benefit us all when I brought you in, three years gone. We has no loyalties but to ourselves - our family.” He sits back on a crate and nods at the doorway where she knew Trag still stood. He waits, then asks again “Did they sees anything special about you?”
Chay quickly shakes her head.
Master Indalin gathers the sheets of paper on his desk and tacks them next to some other notes. The oily man reaches to the side and grabs a sack. He tosses it across the desk. Chay catches it and smiles openly, her face radiating happiness at his expression of approval. Through the burlap she can already smell the bread and heavily spiced, dried meat. As she turns to leave, eager to share her earnings with Trag, Mesuel’s voice follows her out the door. “Hand-picking childers is [u]my[/u] gift. You’ve a quick mind and quicker hands. You keeps your talents with your family, and your family will always keep you.”