Lagotah sat on a long bench in a flower garden housed on a terrace down the mountain beneath the abbey. Ylli stood two feet away, facing her friend, holding a rope. Lagotah sat with her tongue between her teeth trying to tie a tumble hitch knot. Presbyter Tamhorn, a tall male elf dressed in gold flowing robes trimmed in white, strutted up and down watching his recruits. Strands of white silk were braided into Presbyter Tamhorn’s golden locks which hung loose below his shoulders. His wrapped his arms tightly behind his back as he walked along the benches, observing his recruits. Twice he stopped to flick recruits in the ear with his long, slender fingers when their knots were tied poorly or too slowly. Dozens of recruits stood in pairs tying knots, but none of them sat close to Ylli and Lagotah.
“I hate this one,” complained Lagotah. “I don’t get it.”
“Pfft,” Ylli blew air between her pursed lips and flicked her wrist.
“You keep doing that,” said Lagotah, “but it’s not helping me tie it.” Ylli moved to the bench and tied her rope into a tumble hitch around the back of the bench to keep the rope taut. She then took the end of the rope in her hands and held it out.
Ylli pointed one finger at Lagotah, then two fingers at her own eyes as she stood shoulder to shoulder with her friend. Other recruits were watching and laughing.
“What’s wrong, Dumb-otah?” called Hilda. “Can’t even tie a knot? No wonder your parents hate you. I’m surprised they didn’t kill you the minute you were born.”
Ylli moved to block Lagotah’s view of the other recruits and pointed at Lagotah’s eyes, then down at her own hands. Ylli’s soft breathing had a soothing cadence to it as she held one finger in the air, paused, and smiled. Ylli modeled each step, Lagotah repeating. The tumble hitch knot wasn’t hard but had too many steps. Lagotah just couldn’t remember them all. It confused her and after four attempts, Ylli stopped and furrowed her brow and sighed. She stared at the ground then her eyes widened and she snapped her head up and gasped. Ylli switched to a mooring hitch, a simpler version of the quick-release knot with only four steps. It wasn’t as strong but was simpler. Ylli modeled the knot and Lagotah mimicked.
Presbyter Tamhorn walked by and peered down at their knots. Very nice mooring hitches, ladies,” he said quietly. “But I don’t believe I asked for a mooring hitch, did I?” Lagotah looked up at him and shook her head. Ylli kept her head down, looking at the ground. He flicked them both on the ears. Ylli didn’t move, but Lagotah flinched and grabbed her ear. “A tumble hitch this time,” he ordered, his hands behind his back again. Ylli took her rope and slowly made her knot so Lagotah could watch and repeat. The girls handed the knots to the elf. Ylli kept her head down, but Lagotah looked up and smiled, proud of her work. He glanced down, pulled the end of the rope, and loosed the quick-release knot. Presbyter Tamhorn whipped the end of the rope against their cheeks, Lagotah first. She screeched and grasped her face. Yolli’s head moved slightly as the rope left a whelp but she didn’t let out a sound, not even a whimper. Behind them, Hilda and her friends were whispering and giggling. The rest stared but remained quiet.
“Why did you hit me? I did it,” asked Lagotah.
“Quiet your caterwauling, stupid girl,” the elf ordered. “I saw you do it well enough with help,” he said as he glanced at Ylli. “I want to see you do it without her.” Lagotah grabbed the rope, tears streaming down her cheeks and into the rope mark making it sting. She made the first three steps then stopped. She dropped her head and sobbed.
“I can’t,” she whispered.
“Then your friends here need to help you.” Presbyter Tamhorn smiled sharply, spun on his heels and walked down the line of recruits. “Your friend has not yet learned her knots,” he proclaimed. “Her failure is your failure.” He stopped and turned back toward Lagotah, then made his way back to her. Presbyter Tamhorn put out his hand, delicately. Lagotah put her hand in his, still crying. He guided her on top of the bench then handed her the rope. “Practice,” he ordered.” The rest of you … push ups until she learns it.” The recruits groaned, snarling nasty looks at Lagotah. She stood on the bench and worked on her knot but the attention made her memory worse. She got stuck on steps two and three. The more pushups they did the more she forgot. Finally, Presbyter told Ylli to help her. “Sit ups!” he commanded. The kids gasped and turned over.
“One, two, three, four,” Lagotah repeated after each step as Ylli twisted the rope. Lagotah tried but she kept looking at the kids doing sit ups, hearing them count out each one.
“Psst!” Ylli whistled intently. She shook her head and pointed two fingers at Lagotah’s eyes then pointed at the rope.
“That’s easy for you to say,” Lagotah barked. “You aren’t the one they’re mad at.”
“Tssss,” Ylli hissed. She bent her index fingers and tapped them together.
“I know we’re friends. But they still hate me more,” Lagotah lamented. Her shoulders slumped and she quit tying. Ylli smiled and twisted her rope. “I can’t do it!” Lagotah dropped her rope and turned her face waiting for another strike, but Presbyter Tamhorn didn’t move.
A rabbit hopped by at the edge of the garden. Its movement caught Ylli’s eye. Ylli smiled as it hopped around a tree. She smacked Lagotah on the arm and pointed.
“It’s a rabbit. So?” Lagotah asked.
Ylli rolled her eyes and made rabbit ears with her fingers. Then she held up three fingers then mimicked the rabbit ears again.
“Three rabbits?”
Ylli nodded and smiled showing more teeth than normal. Then she put three fingers in the air again, then grabbed them with her other hand and pointed at the abbey.
“You want to hunt rabbits and take them home?” asked Lagotah.
Ylli gaped her mouth open and nodded excitedly. Then held up three fingers again and grabbed them with her other hand.
“You want to hunt three rabbits and take them home?”
Ylli clicked her tongue and winked.
“Okay,” Lagotah said, drawing the sounds out.
Ylli repeated her motion, but this time wrapped a rope around her fingers.
“You want to tie them up?”
Ylli nodded, twirling her hand in the air asking for more.
“With a tumble hitch?” Lagotah asked.
Ylli whistled and winked.
“Hasenpfeffer!4” exclaimed Lagotah.
Ylli frowned and threw her head back, letting out a grunt.
“Hasenpfeffer. My dad used to hunt rabbit and my mom would make hasenpfeffer.” She closed her eyes and moaned.
Ylli took a deep breath, as she closed her eyes trying to maintain her patience, then smiled. She held up three fingers then made rabbit ears.
“So we have three rabbits that we need to take home to make …”.
Ylli help up her hand stopping Lagotah.
“Hasenpfeffer.” Lagotah said her face bright again. She no longer saw the other recruits exercising or heard their voices. All she saw was Ylli with her eyes and the rabbits with her mind.
“Ylli pointed two fingers back at Lagotah’s eyes then pointed back at herself.”
“Okay, I’m watching you.”
Ylli held up one finger then rabbit ears.
“You have one rabbit,” Lagotah said.
Ylli grabbed her own ear.
“You have one rabbit ear.”
Ylli made a loop with the rope and Lagotah nodded. She took another loop and brought it behind the first one and through the hole.
“Oh, won’t that hurt the bunnies?” asked Lagotah.
Ylli smacked Lagotah and pointed two fingers at her eyes.
“Sorry.” Lagotah smiled and her eyes widened.
She can’t tell the difference between real and fantasy, thought Ylli. Ylli pointed at the rope end hanging down.
“Yeah, I see it?”
Ylli grabbed it, took the end of the rope that was hanging, made a loop, and circled it behind and into the upper loop.
“Huh?” Lagotah grunted. “Rabbit ear inside rabbit ear.”
Ylli sighed and gave a thumbs up to Lagotah. Still smiling Ylli mimicked the rabbit ear movement again making eye contact with Lagotah. Then she whistled
“Do you think we’ll have hasenpfeffer for dinner tonight?” Lagotah asked with a gasp. Ylli frowned slightly, irritated at Lagotah’s ability to forget what she was doing. Don’t be cross with her. This won’t work if she’s scared, Ylli thought. She smiled brightly again and shook her head. Ylli pointed at Lagotah’s rope.
“Hmm?” said Lagotah? Ylli held up her own knot and tilted her head, still keeping her smile. “Oh.” Lagotah looked down at her perfectly formed tumble hitch. “I did it.”
“Pfft,” Ylli snorted and touched her friend’s shoulder. Then she whistled as she held up rabbit ears with her fingers.
“I get it,” observed Lagotah. “Just remember the story about the rabbits.”
Ylli clicked her tongue.
The recruits were doing squat thrusts, chanting each number with breath more than sound. Ylli heard them and knew they were tiring out fast. But Lagotah forgot they were there.
The half-orc repeated the rabbit story—slowly—and followed each step. Ylli held her breath as Lagotah passed step four easily. When she finished, Presbyter Tamhorn grabbed the knot and inspected it closely. “It’s about time,” he snarked, tossing the knot back at Lagotah. He turned dramatically, facing the other recruits. His robes twirled in the air then rested around his ankles. “That’s enough for today. Take your ropes into my office and place them back on the hooks on the wall. Then you are dismissed for lunch. Meet me back in our laboratory immediately after lunch and don’t be tardy.” The recruits stood—wobbly and panting—as they gathered their rope, some glaring at Lagotah and Ylli, others just trying to stay upright.
They hate us,” lamented Lagotah.
Ylli shrugged then pointed at Lagotah’s rope lying on the ground.
“Will they try to do something to us?” Lagotah wondered picking up her rope.
Us? thought Ylli. She shrugged and cocked her head.
“I’m glad you’re my friend,” Lagotah said holding her knot out.
Ylli waved and kept walking.
The girls put their ropes back in Presbyter Tamhorn’s laboratory, then walked downstairs to eat lunch. They grabbed a bowl of roast lamb with onions, carrots, and golden potatoes covered in mushroom gravy; a piece of crusty bread; and a cup of tea. The dining hall was silent. Square tables sat all around the room, some full, some not. Not a single table was warm or welcoming. Hard eyes. Piercing eyes. Fearful eyes stared back at the pair in hateful silence. The girls found a table in the back corner where two drákōnblood boys sat. The boys rose as the girls approached and left the table with their food half eaten.
“Fat-otah!” Hilda blurted out into the silence, covering her insult with a heavy cough. The room burst out into laughter, but was quickly rebuffed by a monk.
I liked it better when no one noticed me, Ylli thought.
“Hmmm,” Lagotah stopped chewing and tilted her head. A drizzle of gravy dripped from her bottom tusk and down her chin. “Why do they all hate me?”
Ylli stared at the gravy and shook her head. She then reached over and wiped the gravy from Lagotah’s chin with her finger then cleaned her finger on her dress. Ylli pointed at herself, then crossed her arms across her chest and pointed at Lagotah. They both smiled.
The girls finished lunch then lined up at the end of the dining hall. Presbyter Tamhorn entered. The loose sleeves of his robes were wrapped with silk ribbon tightly against his forearms.
“What’s wrong with his robes?” Lagotah leaned forward and tried to whisper to Ylli but even her whispers made noise. Ylli stood still, silent, and stared at the back of the head of the recruit in front of her. Presbyter Tamhorn jerked his head and with his hands behind his back, glided across the stone floor like a cloud stopping next to Lagotah. She stared ahead and breathed her mouth gaping open, two tusks jutting upward from her open mouth. Presbyter Tamhorn’s svelte body was as close to her as he could without touching. His peered down at Lagotah and listened to her breath.
“I can hear you breathing from the front of the line,” he said thumping the bottom of her chin. “Shall we close up that cave of yours?” Lagotah closed the center of her lips, but the corners of her mouth gaped open around her tusks. Her breathing was louder and had an additional whistle to it. Presbyter Tamhorn closed his eyes, breathed in through his nose silently, and exhaled delicately. He opened his eyes and smiled, then leaned down next to her ear. “You can open your mouth. It’s quieter, dear.” Her turned and floated to the front of the line. “Walk with a purpose!” he announced then with a nod of the head he lead the recruits out of the dining hall and back to his laboratory.
Presbyter Tamhorn was an orderly man demanding straight, silent lines. He walked so lightly he appeared to float and he moved fast forcing some recruits to periodically jog to keep up behind his flowing robes. Presbyter Tamhorn threw open the double doors to his laboratory, moved to the side, hitting one recruit in the face with his robes, and ushered them inside. The ceiling was tall, hanging twenty feet from the floor. At the far end of the room the entire wall was a built-in bookshelf from floor to ceiling crammed full of tomes old and new. At each corner a wheeled ladder with small platforms every six feet stretched upwards connecting to a rod running along the ceiling. The ladders glided along the rod and floor giving access to every book. Where the ladders could meet in the middle of the room a platform with a railing and steps stood. It was large enough to hold five or six recruits. Beneath the platform were two cubes that served as both bookcases and chairs. Loose pillows nestled comfortably where the seat and back were. The exterior wall was a solarium of metal, glass and stone. It faced the south so as to take in a lot of light. The solarium was alive inside with growing things: plants, herbs, and vines. At the end of the room nearest the double doors was a stage sitting three steps high. In the corner nearest the exterior wall was a spiral staircase leading to a small balcony with a desk; a soft, puffy chair; and more bookshelves stuffed with books. A chandelier of candles hung over the middle of the balcony.
The middle of the room had a series of tables, each big enough for two recruits to sit. The tables were not arranged in traditional square rows and columns, but instead were set into a u-shape. The first row of tables was typical height for kids to sit. The next row of tables stood six inches higher. The row behind that stood another six inches higher. The last row was high enough for most recruits to simply stand and work, although they had tall chairs on which to sit. The chairs were all designed to meet the height of the table it was assigned. At each end of every table was a small trunk where the recruits kept their papers, quill and ink, chalk and slate, and books they were using. On each trunk hung a wooden name tag with each recruit’s name burned in.
Lagotah sat at a table in the front, but she was so big that the others behind her couldn’t see around or above her and they sat at tables six inches taller than hers. So Presbyter Tamhorn made Lagotah move her table off to the side a bit.
Ylli sat at a table toward the back where she could stand. Ylli spent her entire life up, moving, working, slaving at the will of adults. To her, sitting was odd and lazy and drew the attention of adults, something she did not like. Attention lead to scorn and scorn meant pain.
“Why don’t you sit up front with me,” Lagotah said after Ylli’s first day.
Ylli shook her head violently then made a standing person in her left palm with her right fingers. She paused and looked in Lagotah’s eyes filling with tears. Waterfalls,” Ylli thought. Ylli pointed at both of them then crisscrossed her pointer fingers, flipped them and did it again, then nudged her friend on the shoulder and smiled.
“Friends sit together,” said Lagotah. “Maybe I’ll move back with you?”
She shook her head violently again. That was too harsh, she thought. Ylli cocked her head and peered over her eyebrows at Lagotah as she pointed at her friend. Ylli made a person with her right hand on her left hand, her finger-legs dangling off the edge of her hand. The she pointed forward. Ylli made a person standing in her hand then pointed back. She paused for a moment watching Lagotah making sure she followed. Ylli made a book with her hands pretending to read. She lifted her right hand and placed her fingertips on the left open palm that still looked like a book, then slid her hand from the book to her forehead.
“I learn?” asked Lagotah.
Ylli nodded. Then she pointed forward.
“I learn better up front.”
Ylli cocked her head and raised her eyebrows.
“You don’t like me anymore,” lamented Lagotah. She sighed and stared at the floor.
Ylli snapped and lowered her eyebrows. She pointed at herself and made a standing person with her fingers then pointed at Lagotah and made a sitting person. Lagotah slumped her shoulders. Ylli suspected she was crying, but Lagotah hung her head too low to see her eyes.
“Fine.” Lagotah sighed again and slunk away to brush her tusks before bed.
Ylli criss-crossed her fingers twice, the sign for friend, but Lagotah frowned. Ylli climbed into bed above Hilda’s bunk. Hilda was across the room in a gaggle of girls. Hilda smiled and laughed as Lagotah walked away alone. When Lagotah returned, she climbed onto the top bunk. Ylli slid out and looked up.
Ylli chomped her teeth several times and put her hand up to her mouth pretending to eat.
“Fine. Lunch tomorrow.” Lagotah rolled over refusing to look at Ylli.
A week passed and Lagotah stayed in her seat at the front, but rushed to Ylli whenever they needed partners.
After the lesson on knots and then lunch, the recruits were escorted back to Presbyter Tamhorn’s laboratory. They each went to their tables. Ylli found a stack of herbs on her table, a parchment, sinew, a needle, two pieces of cloth, and a pestle and mortar.
“Look at your table partner,” Tamhorn announced, holding a pail in his left hand. “She is dying!” he screamed. “Dying from a mortal wound to the guts … from a spear!” It was not like him to yell. The recruits were shaken, wide-eyed, looking at one another. Except Ylli. She had been yelled at, screamed at, beaten, whipped, suffocated, and knocked unconsciousness at the hands of raging men. Presbyter Tamhorn’s attempt at yelling—try as he might—was nothing more than an annoyance. The elf master walked to each table, chose a victim, then spew a ladle of red dye onto the recruit’s midsection. He screamed “death” and “blood” as he finished with each table. “What shall you do?” What?!” he exclaimed. Presbyter Tamhorn scowled and slammed the pail to the ground. Red sloshed out. “Well?” he hollered at the recruits who just stood staring at him. “For the sake of the Smith’s! Heal! Your! Ally!” Tamhorn grabbed a patina bronze sand timer and turned it over then crossed his arms.
Ylli snapped her head toward the herbs on her table. She picked up the parchment and scanned the pictures. It was no use to her so she turned her attention back to the herbs: chamomile, wintergreen, sage, primrose. Hey, that could be handy, she thought, if I need to ease her to death. The girl stood tall, staring at Ylli, her blue dress stained with red. The behemoth was thin, terribly thin, with a chiseled jawline, a sharp nose, and bony elbows and knees.
“What happens if you don’t save me before the timer runs out?” Peni asked. Ylli ignored her, guiding Peni to the ground. Ylli grabbed a cloth, wadded it up and pushed it onto Peni’s wound. The room was silent. Every recruit and Presbyter Tamhorn watched as Ylli worked in silence.
Ylli took Peni’s hands and put them on top of the cloth and pushed, showing Peni how to hold her own dressing. Ylli then grabbed a needle and threaded sinew through it. She glanced at Presbyter Tamhorn, then pretended to sew the wound shut. Ylli snatched a handful of lady’s mantle root from the table and chewed it. Then she placed the mash of root and spit on the freshly sewn wound and put the towel over it. Ylli grabbed a handful of another herb, then stood with her head down averting the elf’s gaze. Presbyter Tamhorn walked up to her with his hands behind his back.
“Time was out two minutes ago,” he said gently Then he turned to the other recruits. “The rest of you are dead. Dead. Dead. Shame on you. You did nothing while your ally bled out.” He breathed deep. “If you are among the dead, then you get no dinner tonight. The dead do not eat.” He paused. “If you are among the living, you get nothing either. You are too ashamed of yourself for doing … nothing! Instead of eating, you will help your dead wash the red stains from her clothes. Use that time to think about what you saw today. Learn. Remember.”
He turned to Ylli. “Your ally is probably dead, too. You need to work faster. Think. Act.” He studied Ylli. She stared at the floor but nodded slightly. “Your dead friend … she gets broth, just in case she might have survived. You may share a bowl with her.” Presbyter Tamhorn looked down and saw the herbs in Ylli’s hand. “I want you and your ally to read the parchment on your table,” he announced to the class. “You will, by the end of today, be able to properly identify each herb by name and how it can be used. Go.” He turned back to Ylli. “Not you.” He grabbed her wrist gently and lifted it. “Why are you holding this?”
Ylli looked down but made no sound.
“Speak girl,” Tamhorn said, placing his finger under her chin and raising her head. Their eyes met.
Ylli took a deep breath and mimicked putting a crown on her head. She stood up straight and tall with her shoulders back and her chin high. She put her hands on top of her head like a crown.
“Royalty?” he retorted.
She nodded then pointed at the plant.
“Princeleaf. Is that what you are trying to say?” Presbyter Tamhorn asked.
Ylli nodded again.
“I know what it is. I asked you why you are holding it.”
She shrugged her shoulders. Presbyter Tamhorn leaned toward her examining her face. Her eyes were not weepy and she did not deflect her gaze. Ylli’s eyes were wide and looked him confidently in the eyes.
“Haselat. That is it’s real name.” He paused looking at Ylli. Her gaze didn’t change. He snorted but the corner of his mouth turned up slightly. It’s used to heal death wounds.”
Ylli bowed her head, thanking him for his information.
“You knew that.” he said still watching her body language.
The corner of Ylli’s mouth turned up slightly.
“Now go and read and learn.” He watched her go to her table and pick up the herbs.
“Haselat,” she mouthed without sound or breath as she stood at her table. “Haselat. Haselat. Haselat.” Peni sat on a high stool next to Ylli.
“Thank you for saving me.”
Ylli shook her head and pointed at the herbs, trying to direct the conversation from her and to the herb work.
“I probably died. Maybe.” Peni said smiling. “But at least I get to eat something tonight. Come on, let’s learn these herbs.” Peni handed Ylli the parchment then held up a sprig of dried herbs.
The next morning Ylli woke early, hours before the sun would peak the mountains. She hopped down from her bed and put on the same blue bib dress and a long sleeved cambric shirt she wore the day before. She stuffed her white underskirt in her trunk on top of the nicely folded dresses and shirts. Ylli shuffled out of the room and wandered the dark hallway. Braziers flickered on the corridor walls in the early morning darkness making the place feel eerie, but darkness didn’t bother Ylli. She spent much of her life as a servant in dark spaces and spooky halls. To her it was comfort. As she padded down the pathway in her bare feet, she caught the sound of voices far away—quiet voices of older women planning and plotting.
It took Ylli no time to locate the room where the women spoke softly. The door was shut but a thin light escaped from underneath the door. Ylli snuck to the door and closed her eyes. The garbles of the women morphed slowly into coherent mutterings.
“It’s coming soon.”
“Yes, I believe you’re right.”
“And we need to be prepared to do whatever is asked of us.”
“What we need to do is get our recruits ready,” said a fourth. Ylli recognized the voice. It belonged to Abbess Ratched, the tall elf woman who smacked her in the face and scrubbed her body hard and raw.
“Yes, Abbess,” said Prioress Nimue, the other nun who washed Ylli. “You are correct.”
“High Abbess Gudrun would like us to work on the recruits who just joined us,” said Abbess Ratched.
“In what way, sister?” another asked.
“They are strong of soul,” said the tall one. “We saw that when we separated them yesterday.”
“Mmmm, hmmm,” agreed another.
“We scrubbed the skin off the older one,” said the Abbess Ratched. “Didn’t we Prioress Nimue?”
“Mmmm, hmmm,” Prioress Nimue agreed.
“I gave her a reminder of the good graces …”.
“That you did, Abbess,” said Prioress Nimue. “That you did.”
“The girl took it well. She’s been reminded of the good graces of guardian Yauuh, before, I do believe.”
“Indeed,” chimed in Prioress Nimue.
“Is the other as resilient?” the tall elf asked.
“Yes Abbess,” replied another elf woman.
“Did she cry?”
“Never, Abbess. Never.”
“This will please the Vicar General,” said Abbess Ratched. “We may be able to manifest our plan quicker than originally planned. Be ready.”
A chair scooted across the floor and Ylli opened her eyes. Other chairs then moved. Ylli spun on her heels and padded down the hall toward her room. Plan?, thought Ylli. She sped past the bath hall and an arm snatched her by the elbow, jerking her into the doorway. Lagotah towered over Ylli.
“Where have you been?” asked Lagotah frowning. Ylli shrugged. “You can’t run around the building. You’ll get into trouble.” Ylli shrugged again and smirked. Lagotah just shook her head. “Are you wearing the same clothes as yesterday?” Ylli nodded. “We’re supposed to bathe and wear fresh clothes every day. It’s a requirement.” Ylli stepped back and crossed her arms, shaking her head. She crammed her fingers into her armpits, then pulled them out, sniffed, and shrugged. Then Ylli grabbed her bib and brought it to her nose, breathing deep.
“Pfft.” Ylli snorted at Lagotah.
“You. Are. Trouble,” said Lagotah. “Come on, we need to get to class.” Lagotah grabbed Ylli’s bib and drug her down the hallway.