Friday, July 15, 2011

Cordoba Chronicles IV: Chapter 3

RASHAD awoke a little sore from the previous day’s work. “Work all day” is right. He worked his arm around to knock out the kinks he felt and hopped into his boots to greet the new day. Making his way to the water closet, he looked over the banister to the ground floor, which held the dining area. It contained most of the guests he had seen upon coming to the Stonesthrow Inn, eating a late breakfast. Rashad took care of his business in the water closet and went downstairs to get his hands on some food.

That’s when he saw her again. Rashad hadn’t had a chance to thank the girl for her help in getting a job. He looked himself over to make sure that he wasn’t a complete mess, and walked over to greet—

“Inia,” he said. “Hello again.” 

The girl looked up from her thoughts as she sat at a table near he door. Her face split into a big smile as she said, “Hey, it’s you. How are you?” 

“I’m good. Listen,” he started, “I wanted to thank you for assisting me with getting a job yesterday. You have no idea how much I needed the work.”

Inia regarded him with a slight squint and said, “It’s all grand, uh…” 

“Rashad,” he said. “So what brings you to the Stonesthrow?” 

“I’m trying to kill some time before my job interview,” she said in a serious tone. 

“Well, good luck to you today in getting that job. From the way it looks, it seems kind of hard to get decent work in this town,” Rashad said. 

“Yeah,” Inia agreed. 

“I’ve got to get to my job, so until we meet again, eh?” 

She forced a smile and said, “Right.” 

Rashad turned and walked out the dual doors of the Stonesthrow Inn. He headed north for the construction site, noting the crowd gathered about the stable wall again. He felt fortunate to have a job in this town, where not even the townsfolk have guaranteed jobs. Rashad wondered how it could’ve gotten to this point, and then thought better of it. 

The gate opened easily as Rashad pulled the gate aside. He looked about and saw Barcrab the Enigman lifting some slate rock and stopped him. “What’s the order today, Barcrab?” 

“CHECK WITH THE BOSS” he rumbled through his mandibles. 

“Thanks,” Rashad said as the Enigman stomped away. Moving on to the foreman’s tent, he heard a rattling cough and slight murmuring coming from behind the flap. He pushed aside the flap to see Jollum on his knees praying. “Sir,” Rashad asked, “everything alright?” 

Jollum coughed in surprise, sending a bit of spittle onto the floor. Covering his mouth, he rose to meet the newest worker. “I’m sorry,” he forced, “I didn’t hear you come in.” 

“All apologies, Jollum,” Rashad said as he started to exit. “I’ll leave you to your prayers.” 

“No, no, lad. You came to my tent to ask me something. What is it?” 

Rashad proceeded to ask about the next thing he’s supposed to do and the foreman replied, “Go help that Halfling Cyan dig some more pylon pits. He’ll need the help as we’ve been told to add another section to the building.” 

“Aye, sir,” Rashad replied. He turned outside of the flap and made his way to the back of the site, where he found Cyan.

Cyan stood six-foot-two with a full head of dark green hair, cropped short on the sides. When Rashad saw him inside the pylon pit from a distance, his hair resembled a shifting patch of grass against the lip of the hole. The new worker grabbed a nearby shovel and walked up to the edge, kicking dirt down onto Cyan’s head and stated, “Hey. Jollum said to help you.” 

Looking up, the scowl on Cyan’s face twisted his horseshoe mustache was unmistakable. After a quick apology from Rashad, Cyan replied, “Alright, get on down here then.” Hopping down with his shovel, Rashad landed on two dirt pails. The contents spilled over onto Cyan’s digging area. The Halfling looked down and then looked back at the new guy, saying, “What the bloody – ey, what are you doing?” 

Cyan walked over to Rashad and the dirt pails and said, “Is this your idea of help?” He lifted the empty dirt pails with sweaty, corded arms and said, “Look, here’s how you’re gonna help me. Go over to where you spilled the dirt and fill those pails. When you’re done with that, go get rid of the dirt in both pails. You come back; you do it again. Alright?” Having no choice but to agree, Rashad started to fill the pails as Cyan watched. As he hefted the pails, he noticed that the walls of the pit were steep. 

“How am I supposed to get out of here with these pails?” Rashad asked.

Cyan laughed, saying, “You’ll figure it out, new guy.”


Rashad didn’t know why this guy was giving him such a hard time, but he took it in stride. He lifted each of the pails up to the lip of the pit and pushed them aside to make room for himself. As he began to pull himself up from the hole, he was hit with clods of dirt from Cyan’s shovel. Rashad kept reminding himself that he needed to eat as he got to his feet and went to dump the excess dirt. He found the wastepile, over where Wyle was hanging from a rafter and nailing into a support beam. The carpenter pulled away from his work, asking, “What happened to you, new guy?” 

“Nothing,” Rashad said. “Just diggin’ a hole with Cyan. That’s all.” 

“That ain’t all,” Wyle shot back. “Look, man. Cyan gives everyone a hard time, even the boss. Just give him some time to get used to you, alright?” 

“Alright,” Rashad agreed as he emptied the two pails. He turned and asked the carpenter: “But why does he have to be such a jerk?” 

Wyle shrugged his shoulders, an act made stranger by his hanging from the support beam, and said, “I don’t know; that’s just how he is. Don’t worry, …uh, Rashad. It’ll all work out in the end.” He clapped a reassuring hand on Rashad’s shoulder, sending up a cloud of dust. Rashad turned away from the dust and thanked Wyle. “No problem, new guy,” the carpenter replied as Rashad went back to the pit. As he passed through the site, his eyes caught a glimpse of a blue cloak outside the front gate. It was Inia, leaving the Stonesthrow Inn and headed for a building across the street. Thinking of the interview she was about to take, Rashad hoped that her job wouldn’t be nearly as frustrating as his own.


She sat down on the stool, crossing her legs at the ankles just like Auntie taught her. Hands on knee, shoulders back and eyes forward. Inia was ready for her very first interview. Unfortunately, her interviewer was not. 

Moira was the curious character that ran the Loom House. She was the only one who worked here, and yet she was made fine garments in a week that would take most people took a year to make. The gifted elf really didn’t need the help, for she rarely left the house and kept to her loom day and night. So, Inia asked herself, what was she really doing here? 

“Your mother,” Moira mumbled as she made tea, “tells me you need to experience the world of work. I can help you in that respect. Would you like to work here?” 

The tanned teen looked over the seamstress. She had long, black hair that hung over her eyes and into her face. Her willowy form was old beyond its years, and it showed through the bony joints that poked through the linen dress as she prepared the tea. Moira’s pale skin was a great concern for Inia; the girl liked to play and lounge in the sunshine. If she was gonna work here, she might end up as pale as this woman. But she had to have a job. Despite her next interview, she had to have a job that Auntie would approve of. 

“Yes, Miss Moira, I’d like to work at your loom house. When do I start?” 

The elf turned and said, “I have many projects that have come in and are back ordered. I’ll need you to work with me all of next month to complete them.” Moira walked over with the tea and two small teacups. “You’ll be paid accordingly to the reference your aunt gave me. Are you up to the task?” 

“Yes, Miss Moira, I am.” 

“Very good.” Moira lifted a teacup. “Would you like a cup of tea before you leave to go home?” 

Inia obliged the slight elf, sipping as she learned from Auntie. She finished the cup and hurried out the door. The vibe that Miss Moira gave her was one of despair and she didn’t want to be around her any longer than she needed to be. Inia hurried over to the Egress Bar and stood by the door. Pulling the ad from her small satchel, she read it again to make sure she was ready to do this. Auntie would kill her if she knew what was about to happen, but then again Auntie doesn’t pay attention too much except about the books in her study. Inia was growing into a woman, she felt, and Auntie Blackheart wasn’t paying attention to her needs. She couldn’t be Auntie’s little girl forever, Inia thought. With a willful snort from her nose, she pushed open the door to the Egress Bar. 

Inia was disappointed by what she saw. There were only a few people sitting near the actual bar at tables littered with bottles. They looked haggard, beaten, and grimy from the road. One man was sprawled over the entire area of the table, unconscious yet still gripping his bottle of wine. She had overheard stories of how this place was great and everything, but nothing that she saw showed her that. Inia walked over to the bar and called to the bartender at the far end. 

The bartender, a tall dark-skinned man with white hair, looked over and immediately regretted doing so. He already knew who the girl was and hoped that there were no problems. He walked over to her and said, “What’ll it be, miss?” 

The tanned teenager spoke of her intentions as she held out the ad. The man looked at her hand and knew that this was going to be a problem. He could not deny the girl a job, due to her connections. There’d be hell to pay if he did. “Are you qualified?” he asked. 

“Um, yeah, I’m qualified,” Inia said, “but is this all there is? To Egress Bar, I mean.” 

“There is much more to this bar, dear girl,” the dark-skinned man said suggestively, “much more. For instance, you may think I am merely tending bar but I am also the owner and manager of this establishment. My name is Donovan.” Inia reached out and shook his offered hand, only to pull back in shock as she felt extreme cold. “I am also a graduate of the Academy as an ice mage. It’s how I keep my drinks cool.” 

“Oh, my name’s Inia—“ she started. 

“I know who you are, girl,” Donovan finished. “Everyone in town knows who you are. Now that our pageantry is over, do you still intend to take the job?” 

Thinking hard about what she was doing and failing at it, she said, “Yes. Yes I do.” 

“Good,” Donovan said. He went to a nearby back door and opened it, revealing a flight of stairs that led underground. “Now I can show you around.”

CONTINUED IN CHAPTER 4

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