No words.
Or really, lots of words. But no life update. Not really in the mood.
Hey, have a story I don't know how to finish properly. Heck, it doesn't even have a title.
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Her gnarled hands fussed with the duvet as yet another grandchild of a grandchild was paraded past her bed. This one wailed and squirmed as he was presented to her, turning a vivid shade of red. He was the last, and youngest, of this year's crop of children. Two hours of presentations wore on her nerves, every infant and toddler looking too much like the one before.
"He's just tired, Mother." The eldest of her daughters smiled. "He'll be strong, with those lungs."
"Or he'll just be loud." Another of her daughters chimed in.
"Hush. Both of you." The old woman's soft rasp was hard to hear. Sometimes she forgot how old she was now. "Do any of you hens have any more chicks to show me?”
As the squaller’s mother wrapped him in a blanket, the eldest daughter stepped forward again. “Not today, Mother Rhina. Arianne and Tsiporrah will both have their babies in a couple of months, then Domonic’s twins another couple months after that.” She fussed with the pillows behind the old woman’s head. “Oh, good news! Mason and Kinny just found out they are expecting a couple days ago and a little bird told me Little Cara might be too.”
Rhina pushed at her daughter’s fussing hands. “Oh, go on already. I can’t possibly be bothered to remember all of these girls and when they pop out another screamer. Just bring them around every year and I’ll look them over like I always do. Now go! I’m old, I’m tired, and I’ve had enough of your silly nattering. Go!”
The room emptied as the hens shuffled out. She knew as soon as they were out of the room, the clucking would turn negative and cruel. “It never changes. No potential.” She sighed as her hands fumbled for a small bell. “How will I ever…”
Her bell rang out clear and sweet as she shook it. She crossed her arms as a door in the corner opened. A small cart rattled out, pushed by a young woman in a simple servant’s dress. Wordless, she set up a small dinner tray at the end of the bed, with a small silver lidded tray and a glass of water.
“Gods above and below, those children of mine are absolutely useless. Especially Demitia. So obsessed with bragging about her own girls.” Rhina struggled to push herself up higher on the pillows before snapping at the servant. “Well, what are you waiting for? Help me up. I can’t eat half on my back like this.”
“Yes, Mother Rhina.” The girl slipped her arms under the woman’s knees and shoulders, lifting her and setting her into a higher seat. “Now sit still.”
She watched as the girl tucked the blankets around her wasted legs and placed the dinner tray within reach. Under the silver lid was a mix of vegetables and spices, fragrant and steaming. A pitcher of water remained on the cart in case it was required, as well as a tiny brown bottle, stoppered and sealed with wax. The room was silent as the old woman ate, keeping her eyes on the tray. Spices warmed her throat and belly as she spooned up the dish with measured bites. At the end of bed, the girl stood, quiet, with eyes trained on the floor and hands folded in front of her apron.
When the last bit was gone, Rhina pushed the plate to the edge of the tray. “Thank you. The new cook did a good job today.” The girl leaned forward for the tray but the old woman grabbed her wrist. “No, leave it for a minute, Leah.”
At the mention of her name, the girl looked up with a strange light in her eyes and a grin curling at the corners of her mouth. “I almost thought you forgot my name, Mother Rhina. Wouldn’t that just be a shame?”
“I hope you don’t think you’ve earned the right to be rude to me, girl.” Rhina’s frown deepened, but her eyes crinkled, ever so slightly. “You’ve let your hair grow out some since I saw you last. And what’s with this mess on your wrist?” She turned over the girl’s hand, running her gnarled thumb over a small pattern of chevrons.
“Now, you know exactly what that means. And why I’m here.” Leah pulled her wrist free and picked up the small brown bottle of the cart. “The question is, are you ready to accept?”
“Can’t say I am yet.” Rhina crossed her arms. “You could hear Demitia from the servant’s entrance. Air headed and short sighted, I can’t leave the family to her.”
“Are you sure?” The bottle glittered in Leah’s hands as she pulled the stopper and tilted it over the old woman’s glass of water, still untouched. “It would be so simple. Free of smell, and taste. An escape, one you know you want.” A single drop hovered on the lip of the bottle, fat and quivering in the slight breeze from the window.
Rhina eyed the droplet, the promise, with tired eyes. “Can’t say it’s time. Not right now. Too much to do right now.”
“Too much to do?” The girl laughed as she flicked her hand back, a practiced gesture that pulled that fat droplet back into the bottle smoothly. “Please, you can’t even walk to the courtyard anymore by yourself. You need at least four attendants to get past the parlor at this point. What are you waiting for? For one of your ‘hens’ to take charge?” Her laugh bubbled out again, soft and sad.
“Might be. Might be I’m waiting for a sign.” Old hands reached for the glass of water, her throat dry and tight. The glass shook as she tried to lift it, water threatening to splash over the rim. With a disgusted sigh, she fought to steady the quake.
Strong hands cupped hers as Leah guided the glass to her papery dry lips. The water was cool, Leah’s hands warm around her own as the girl helped her set the glass back down.
“It hurts, Mother Rhina.” Leah fussed with the blankets, her eyes on the floor as she spoke. “When I left, I hated you, for sending me away like you did. Over time, I figured out why. I found out who you were. What you were. They trained me the same way.”
The old woman watched the top of Leah’s head, at the tiny spot her curls spiraled from. “I had no choice. The mark was there and you were of age. Am I… your final task?”
“No, no, that was some politician two years ago. The sisters wanted to send another, an alycote to offer you the Mercy.” Leah tucked the small brown bottle into a pocket. She scrubbed at her eyes; they were red and shot with veins. “I came here of my own choice.”
Nodding, Rhina reached for the girl’s hand. Again she ran her fingers over the four small triangles on the smooth wrist. Then over the matching marks on her own. “I can’t leave yet. I promised myself I wouldn’t leave without showing…”
The words tumbled out on their own. “I wanted you to know that it’s not about being alone. I wanted you to have another, someone to follow you, close to your side. So you wouldn’t be like me. But these girls, they all take too much after their father, him and his sweet old heart. I never could get him to say a harsh word to our girls.
“I still can’t say what he was thinking when he proposed to me! But he was so kind, so selflessly loving, I said yes. Then came the children; I counted their toes and blessed their fingers. I led the family through many years, watching for a Marked Child. It was so long then, two generations, that I thought the Mark wasn’t going to rear it’s head again.” Rhina took a long, shaky breath. “Then you were born. So smart and quick, I cried to watch you grow. I had to send you away. Even then, I continued to watch. Each year, every caterwauling bundle brought here, to get pinched, prodded and cooed over by my girls. But never with the signs.” Tears were flowing freely now, down her cheeks, and dripping off her chin. “I won’t say I’m sorry, I did what was right. I hope you can think well of me for it, later on.”
Leah wrapped the old woman tight in her arms. Rhina could smell herbs in her hair, along with the sharp tang of the spices from dinner.
~~~~~
Blargh
