sanpit, chapter 1
Nov. 2nd, 2007 10:30 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
wellownedbkupChapter 1:
She was only 10 years old when she was taken, when she was forced into this life. She never knew who they were, or how they found her locked away in her neighbor’s cellar for safekeeping. Even now she can barely remember home—just the thick scent of flowers drying in the cellar and the blinding light of the sun when the ceiling had been thrown open and she’d been taken away.
The stench of the wagons, of numerous other children piled on and against one another in the dark, closed-in space, made her gag and pull away to sit as near the cracks in the sides as she could. There were cries for a mother that was too far away to hear. Whimper moans came with every passing hour from children younger than her. All around her was only desolation. She closed her eyes and hummed to herself, filling her ears with a noise that could barely drown out the depression around her.
When she opens her eyes, the ceiling is again thrown open above her, flooding the upturned faces with harsh sunlight. She casts an eye around at her fellow captives, lip curling and chest rumbling with anger at the sight of so many tear-stained and dirty children, coated in a layer of dust that blew in from the cracks in the walls of their cage. Tiny voices started to cry out again, calling for mothers, fathers, home and comfort that were all too far away. Soon it seemed the whole wagon was rocking with children clamoring for familiar grounds. She looked around and saw a few others like herself, sitting quietly, alone and aloof.
One by one, the writhing, whimpering, weeping crowd of children was whittled down, picked out of the restraining kennel until there were just 5 silent children left. She watched the others around her for some clue as to why they were last. Nothing. Her stomach churned in nervousness, and she wanted to call out for her own mother. The cart was broken open before she could succumb to the urge, and they were directed out into the bright and dazzling sunlight of the courtyard.
“Welcome, my elite ones.” An oily voice boomed from far above her head, though she couldn’t raise her eyes to find the source without fear of blinding herself. She stood in the curved bowl of the palace’s courtyard, bare feet stung with the sand that swirled about them.
The guards called out in reply, “May the Noi live forever. Hail.” The clang of manacles to shields resonated a long moment, echoes reverberating in her head. Silence settled over the court, and she felt herself being measured and weighed for use in the interim. She darted her eyes quickly to the guard beside her for a cue of what to do, but he kept his eyes forward and never moved.
“They will do. Take them to conditioning.” With a snap, the guards moved into action, hustling the children into a dark tunnel. She stumbled forward into the dark, blinded in the sudden change from the over-bright of the outdoors to the dark of midnight in the gaping maw of the palace.
Each step she took brought her on cooler and cooler stones, the edges of them worn smooth against her callused feet. Her mouth worked against the dry sandpaper feel of her tongue, as she tried to think of what to say. Her mind whirled with questions about what a Noi was, where she was, what had happened to her. Was she ever to see her home again? She swallowed a small noise that threatened to break her and kept moving down the dark halls, the slap of skin on stone the only noises besides their breathing.
All too soon after her eyes adjusted to the dark, the small group of children was separated from each other, not having spoken or really seen one another in their entire journey. She was directed into a bath where the light was stronger, 3 bath slaves kneeling in wait next to the waters. Their hands reached out for her, stripping her of the rags she wore before she had a chance to protest. She stepped into the water, eyes big and fear finally coming into her expression. What was going on? Was this to be a kindness or a beginning to torture?
One of the older slaves patted her head lightly, a smile crossing her lips. “You have nothing to fear, little chosen one. You are of great value to the Noi.”
“Trust your master,” another added, voice soft as the cloth she was using to clean the child. “He is your strength, your conscience, your safety. It is a gift and privilege to be his chosen tool.”
The third slave deftly washed her hair, adding to the litany they were using. “You must remember that it is for you to serve, obey and please your master. Submission to the Noi is the most important piece of your life.”
“Wear your chains with pride and devotion to the Noi. You are his slave, his tool, and it is your good fortune to be.”
“You are of great value to your master. Pleasing him is your greatest satisfaction.”
“There is nothing to fear because your master is with you. Obedience to him is as natural as breathing.”
“You are a treasure to the Noi. He is your master, and what he desires you will do because you wish to please him. Through his discipline and guidance, you are made free.”
Her eyes darted from one to the next as each one recited a liturgy to her, a frown creasing her forehead. The elder slave again touched her head comfortingly. “He is master, and you are his tool. Whatever he commands, you obey. You serve at his pleasure, for it means life. You are a tool of his pleasure. You must always remember this, and repeat it to yourself when you find yourself in doubt. All that matters is that. All else is,” she made a vague waving motion before chucking the girl under her chin, “meaningless.”
The child closed her eyes, feeling the slaves draw her out of the bath and into drying cloths. Her hair was pulled tightly to the nape of her neck, a knot placed at the base of her skull. Her skin was rubbed with oils, her body covered in a soft tunic, and she was directed to a room to wait. She pressed herself into a far corner, her eyes warily watching the others while she hummed a lullaby to no one and her fingers made sharp designs in the dust of the floor.
The time stretched long, and the others started drifting off to sleep one by one, lulled by the warmth and care of the baths and oils. She stayed awake enough, aware enough, for a while longer. Her eyes briefly caught the glance from the muddy brown eyes of one of the boys, relatively in a similar position on the opposite corner from hers. There's a brief flicker of something like acknowledgement before their eyes pass on to other things.
When the room was more in shadows than light, someone new fetched them. There's another separation, another change in their groupings, as the girls were torn from the boys. She spared another glance and thought for the dainty, muddy eyed boy before she was forcibly moved to yet another empty room of sandy stone.
“Welcome, chosen ones.” In the center of the room waited an old man, silver hair gathered into a loose knot on top of his head, catching all the light. He opened his arms and welcomed the small group into the room.
“Hail,” the girls replied softly, quickly learning from the example of the guards earlier.
“May the Noi live forever.” He paused a long while, hinting that the girls should repeat that. They did, after the silence spread long. “You must always return a welcome with a blessing for the Noi. He gives us all the meaning in our lives. The least we could do in return is to wish him happiness and long life. Always return a welcome with a blessing for the Noi.”
She shifted uncertainly before stilling, so used to being quiet and forgotten. A blessing for the Noi. “May I ask--?” she paused, cringing at having broken the silence she’d imposed on herself.
“Go on, child. Now is the time to ask your questions.” The girls next to her shot her an ugly look, worried that they would suffer from what she would say. She shook, wanting nothing more than to take back what she’d begun to say. The old man put a hand lightly on her elbow, hot and present only a half a moment before pulling away. “Please, do not hold back your questions, little one.”
“Who is the Noi?” she asked, voice quieter and impossibly falling fainter. Oh, if she’d only left her mouth shut!
The man let his mouth crease into a smile, lines breaking through his copper-toned skin as each wrinkle showed up on his face. “The Noi, dear child, is who we owe ourselves to, who we owe our lives to. He saved us,” he said, with a beneficent air, “from the cruel world out there.” The old man pressed his hands together, bowing to the girls. “And now, you must rest.” He gestured for them to follow him into the next room, the floor sandy soft and pounded hard with the feet that had passed before theirs. Her eyes kept flicking around and around, catching the little details the other girls seemed to be missing. The way the other slaves, kneeling in what seemed to be their usual positions, inclined their heads at the small procession. The glow of the rooms from unseen torchlight. The four small beds in a row beneath slatted windows. The muted sound of their feet as they walked through the room.
The withered figure watched each girl from the corner of his eye, cataloging every move they made. His charges were meant for a greater cause, as they had been since he’d been given this position. He expected them to show some potential in that manner, even from their first night in unfamiliar climes. Two of the girls were leaning on each other, exhausted and near the end of their emotional rope. Another seemed to look around at everything, though he wasn’t sure if it was in awe or in understanding. The final one moved slowly at the back of the group, eyes flicking back and forth without ever seeming to leave his movements. This one, he smiled inwardly. This one could have potential.
He directed them all to their separate bunks, petting their heads lightly with care that made them yearn for home again. The two girls with the saddest expressions of before cried out first and loudest, tears springing up and pouring down their shining cheeks in rivulets. He pressed a callused and warm palm to their foreheads and cheeks, wiping away a tear as it appeared, before moving on to the next.
“Do not cry, you chosen ones. May the Noi keep you until we meet again.” He bowed again, nodding for the door to be closed behind him as he left.
The young girl, who had lain in interminable wait with fear and anxiety in her heart, laid awake in the bunk as she contemplated everything she had seen. Oh, how she wished her mother had been able to keep her safe from the roving slavers that attacked her village! The tales she’d heard as a younger child beside the fire with her neighbors left an ominous pall over her future were she to be captured. She heard of children being taken in and made to do all manner of things, disgusting things, and how they were never to be free again. She caught in a painful breath, loud enough in her ears to momentarily drown out the sounds of indelicate crying from the girls around her. She would never be free. She would never be with her mother again.
The door opened again after a few moments, allowing a shaft of bright light to fall across the middle of the room, illuminating a second row of beds. Another older man, similar to the one who had led them into the room before, now led in a small group of boys, most of them from her own transport. Her dark eyes watched it from the shadows, counting the slumped shoulders of the 5 boys who entered.
“Do not fear, strong ones. The Noi keep you until we meet again.” The words sounded familiar, almost a repeat of what she’d heard from their host. “Rest, children. Tomorrow is a long day.” He gestured each of them to a bed, and she found her eyes crossing with the boy’s again, his dainty face set hard and sharp against the dark.
The door was closed again, and the dark settled tight and cool on her skin. She shivered, goosebumps prickling across her skin and raising the hair at the back of her neck. She waited as she heard the breathing of each even out into sleep, an unfamiliar nervousness in her stomach at being in such an open room, surrounded by strangers.
“Are you awake?” a soft voice called from the other side of the room. She swallowed thickly, unsure of whether she wanted to answer. “I’m Dannaii. I just wanted to…” he paused for a long time, making her think he’d fallen back to sleep. “I just didn’t want to be alone,” he said finally, as the silence fell long between them.
She trembled in her bunk, limbs locked in upright position. She could see him there, the bed across from her own, watching the dark unseeingly. She watched him for a long time, barely daring to breathe, let alone speak. Finally, he lay his head down, giving up on hearing anything from the opposite side of the room.
As he fell asleep, he heard her speak, and a smile crossed his face sleepily. “You are not alone, Dannaii.”
She was only 10 years old when she was taken, when she was forced into this life. She never knew who they were, or how they found her locked away in her neighbor’s cellar for safekeeping. Even now she can barely remember home—just the thick scent of flowers drying in the cellar and the blinding light of the sun when the ceiling had been thrown open and she’d been taken away.
The stench of the wagons, of numerous other children piled on and against one another in the dark, closed-in space, made her gag and pull away to sit as near the cracks in the sides as she could. There were cries for a mother that was too far away to hear. Whimper moans came with every passing hour from children younger than her. All around her was only desolation. She closed her eyes and hummed to herself, filling her ears with a noise that could barely drown out the depression around her.
When she opens her eyes, the ceiling is again thrown open above her, flooding the upturned faces with harsh sunlight. She casts an eye around at her fellow captives, lip curling and chest rumbling with anger at the sight of so many tear-stained and dirty children, coated in a layer of dust that blew in from the cracks in the walls of their cage. Tiny voices started to cry out again, calling for mothers, fathers, home and comfort that were all too far away. Soon it seemed the whole wagon was rocking with children clamoring for familiar grounds. She looked around and saw a few others like herself, sitting quietly, alone and aloof.
One by one, the writhing, whimpering, weeping crowd of children was whittled down, picked out of the restraining kennel until there were just 5 silent children left. She watched the others around her for some clue as to why they were last. Nothing. Her stomach churned in nervousness, and she wanted to call out for her own mother. The cart was broken open before she could succumb to the urge, and they were directed out into the bright and dazzling sunlight of the courtyard.
“Welcome, my elite ones.” An oily voice boomed from far above her head, though she couldn’t raise her eyes to find the source without fear of blinding herself. She stood in the curved bowl of the palace’s courtyard, bare feet stung with the sand that swirled about them.
The guards called out in reply, “May the Noi live forever. Hail.” The clang of manacles to shields resonated a long moment, echoes reverberating in her head. Silence settled over the court, and she felt herself being measured and weighed for use in the interim. She darted her eyes quickly to the guard beside her for a cue of what to do, but he kept his eyes forward and never moved.
“They will do. Take them to conditioning.” With a snap, the guards moved into action, hustling the children into a dark tunnel. She stumbled forward into the dark, blinded in the sudden change from the over-bright of the outdoors to the dark of midnight in the gaping maw of the palace.
Each step she took brought her on cooler and cooler stones, the edges of them worn smooth against her callused feet. Her mouth worked against the dry sandpaper feel of her tongue, as she tried to think of what to say. Her mind whirled with questions about what a Noi was, where she was, what had happened to her. Was she ever to see her home again? She swallowed a small noise that threatened to break her and kept moving down the dark halls, the slap of skin on stone the only noises besides their breathing.
All too soon after her eyes adjusted to the dark, the small group of children was separated from each other, not having spoken or really seen one another in their entire journey. She was directed into a bath where the light was stronger, 3 bath slaves kneeling in wait next to the waters. Their hands reached out for her, stripping her of the rags she wore before she had a chance to protest. She stepped into the water, eyes big and fear finally coming into her expression. What was going on? Was this to be a kindness or a beginning to torture?
One of the older slaves patted her head lightly, a smile crossing her lips. “You have nothing to fear, little chosen one. You are of great value to the Noi.”
“Trust your master,” another added, voice soft as the cloth she was using to clean the child. “He is your strength, your conscience, your safety. It is a gift and privilege to be his chosen tool.”
The third slave deftly washed her hair, adding to the litany they were using. “You must remember that it is for you to serve, obey and please your master. Submission to the Noi is the most important piece of your life.”
“Wear your chains with pride and devotion to the Noi. You are his slave, his tool, and it is your good fortune to be.”
“You are of great value to your master. Pleasing him is your greatest satisfaction.”
“There is nothing to fear because your master is with you. Obedience to him is as natural as breathing.”
“You are a treasure to the Noi. He is your master, and what he desires you will do because you wish to please him. Through his discipline and guidance, you are made free.”
Her eyes darted from one to the next as each one recited a liturgy to her, a frown creasing her forehead. The elder slave again touched her head comfortingly. “He is master, and you are his tool. Whatever he commands, you obey. You serve at his pleasure, for it means life. You are a tool of his pleasure. You must always remember this, and repeat it to yourself when you find yourself in doubt. All that matters is that. All else is,” she made a vague waving motion before chucking the girl under her chin, “meaningless.”
The child closed her eyes, feeling the slaves draw her out of the bath and into drying cloths. Her hair was pulled tightly to the nape of her neck, a knot placed at the base of her skull. Her skin was rubbed with oils, her body covered in a soft tunic, and she was directed to a room to wait. She pressed herself into a far corner, her eyes warily watching the others while she hummed a lullaby to no one and her fingers made sharp designs in the dust of the floor.
The time stretched long, and the others started drifting off to sleep one by one, lulled by the warmth and care of the baths and oils. She stayed awake enough, aware enough, for a while longer. Her eyes briefly caught the glance from the muddy brown eyes of one of the boys, relatively in a similar position on the opposite corner from hers. There's a brief flicker of something like acknowledgement before their eyes pass on to other things.
When the room was more in shadows than light, someone new fetched them. There's another separation, another change in their groupings, as the girls were torn from the boys. She spared another glance and thought for the dainty, muddy eyed boy before she was forcibly moved to yet another empty room of sandy stone.
“Welcome, chosen ones.” In the center of the room waited an old man, silver hair gathered into a loose knot on top of his head, catching all the light. He opened his arms and welcomed the small group into the room.
“Hail,” the girls replied softly, quickly learning from the example of the guards earlier.
“May the Noi live forever.” He paused a long while, hinting that the girls should repeat that. They did, after the silence spread long. “You must always return a welcome with a blessing for the Noi. He gives us all the meaning in our lives. The least we could do in return is to wish him happiness and long life. Always return a welcome with a blessing for the Noi.”
She shifted uncertainly before stilling, so used to being quiet and forgotten. A blessing for the Noi. “May I ask--?” she paused, cringing at having broken the silence she’d imposed on herself.
“Go on, child. Now is the time to ask your questions.” The girls next to her shot her an ugly look, worried that they would suffer from what she would say. She shook, wanting nothing more than to take back what she’d begun to say. The old man put a hand lightly on her elbow, hot and present only a half a moment before pulling away. “Please, do not hold back your questions, little one.”
“Who is the Noi?” she asked, voice quieter and impossibly falling fainter. Oh, if she’d only left her mouth shut!
The man let his mouth crease into a smile, lines breaking through his copper-toned skin as each wrinkle showed up on his face. “The Noi, dear child, is who we owe ourselves to, who we owe our lives to. He saved us,” he said, with a beneficent air, “from the cruel world out there.” The old man pressed his hands together, bowing to the girls. “And now, you must rest.” He gestured for them to follow him into the next room, the floor sandy soft and pounded hard with the feet that had passed before theirs. Her eyes kept flicking around and around, catching the little details the other girls seemed to be missing. The way the other slaves, kneeling in what seemed to be their usual positions, inclined their heads at the small procession. The glow of the rooms from unseen torchlight. The four small beds in a row beneath slatted windows. The muted sound of their feet as they walked through the room.
The withered figure watched each girl from the corner of his eye, cataloging every move they made. His charges were meant for a greater cause, as they had been since he’d been given this position. He expected them to show some potential in that manner, even from their first night in unfamiliar climes. Two of the girls were leaning on each other, exhausted and near the end of their emotional rope. Another seemed to look around at everything, though he wasn’t sure if it was in awe or in understanding. The final one moved slowly at the back of the group, eyes flicking back and forth without ever seeming to leave his movements. This one, he smiled inwardly. This one could have potential.
He directed them all to their separate bunks, petting their heads lightly with care that made them yearn for home again. The two girls with the saddest expressions of before cried out first and loudest, tears springing up and pouring down their shining cheeks in rivulets. He pressed a callused and warm palm to their foreheads and cheeks, wiping away a tear as it appeared, before moving on to the next.
“Do not cry, you chosen ones. May the Noi keep you until we meet again.” He bowed again, nodding for the door to be closed behind him as he left.
The young girl, who had lain in interminable wait with fear and anxiety in her heart, laid awake in the bunk as she contemplated everything she had seen. Oh, how she wished her mother had been able to keep her safe from the roving slavers that attacked her village! The tales she’d heard as a younger child beside the fire with her neighbors left an ominous pall over her future were she to be captured. She heard of children being taken in and made to do all manner of things, disgusting things, and how they were never to be free again. She caught in a painful breath, loud enough in her ears to momentarily drown out the sounds of indelicate crying from the girls around her. She would never be free. She would never be with her mother again.
The door opened again after a few moments, allowing a shaft of bright light to fall across the middle of the room, illuminating a second row of beds. Another older man, similar to the one who had led them into the room before, now led in a small group of boys, most of them from her own transport. Her dark eyes watched it from the shadows, counting the slumped shoulders of the 5 boys who entered.
“Do not fear, strong ones. The Noi keep you until we meet again.” The words sounded familiar, almost a repeat of what she’d heard from their host. “Rest, children. Tomorrow is a long day.” He gestured each of them to a bed, and she found her eyes crossing with the boy’s again, his dainty face set hard and sharp against the dark.
The door was closed again, and the dark settled tight and cool on her skin. She shivered, goosebumps prickling across her skin and raising the hair at the back of her neck. She waited as she heard the breathing of each even out into sleep, an unfamiliar nervousness in her stomach at being in such an open room, surrounded by strangers.
“Are you awake?” a soft voice called from the other side of the room. She swallowed thickly, unsure of whether she wanted to answer. “I’m Dannaii. I just wanted to…” he paused for a long time, making her think he’d fallen back to sleep. “I just didn’t want to be alone,” he said finally, as the silence fell long between them.
She trembled in her bunk, limbs locked in upright position. She could see him there, the bed across from her own, watching the dark unseeingly. She watched him for a long time, barely daring to breathe, let alone speak. Finally, he lay his head down, giving up on hearing anything from the opposite side of the room.
As he fell asleep, he heard her speak, and a smile crossed his face sleepily. “You are not alone, Dannaii.”
