Chapter 352

Layali held her cheek and fell immediately silent, her tears stopped flowing, though they still pooled in her eyes as she looked up at the old woman. The woman's hand was raised, ready to slap a second time. It jerked a little farther back, promising that it would hurt more if Layali made a sound.

"Good. You're smart enough to shut up. Pain is a great teacher. Suffice it to say, child, that you will learn a lot here, one way or the other." The old woman said and with agonizing slowness the hand came down, left and right folded together in front of the woman's waist.

"While you are here, for as long as you are here, you will be expected to work, to learn, and, if you know what is good for you… to make yourself… wanted. There is always a call for young labor, apprentices and such, for one trade or another. You were very lucky, the ones to drop you here paid for your care, so that means you'll get twice as much food as the rest, and new clothes instead of old ones." The old woman frowned when Layali said nothing.

"You can thank me now." The old woman added expectantly.

Layali looked down at the floor.

"I was speaking to you, child." The old woman said and drew her hand back.

"What do I call you?" Layali mumbled and looked behind her at the door.

"Lady Grel." The old woman said, her fingers twitched, ready to strike.

"Thank you, Lady Grel." Layali mumbled.

The hand lowered… "Better. It needs work, but it's a start. Spare the hand and spoil the child. Now follow." The old woman took her cane in hand and began to walk down the long hall, her cane tapped the floor and created a cavernous echo out of the emptiness, air blew down the passageway that raised goosebumps on Layali's skin, her ears twitched as she looked left to right. The doors were plentiful, but that was not what caused her ears to twitch.

Silence.

Occasionally broken up by someone saying, "Faster."

Then more silence.

And the doors… 'They've got locks on them… on the outside?' She looked at the bolts and noticed where they were placed.

She recalled the house of her master, her father… 'The locks on every room were easily accessible to him, but I was too small…'

The locks here were vertical, and went from the top of the door to the short horizontal top door frame, completely beyond her reach no matter what she did.

On the outside of every door there sat a banded candle burning down and casting light over the floor and sending her shadows scattering in every direction as she passed beneath them.

The tapping of the old woman's cane and her steady but slow footfalls became a cause for Layali to wince. 'The one thing they can't do is kill me…' She told herself, but it was a cold, cold comfort that clasped her heart as the old woman stopped at a door. She drew a key from around her neck and rose on her tiptoes to unlock the bolt which held the door shut.

She came down, stepped back from the door after jiggling the bolt open, and smacked her cane up to the wall beside the brass sconce holding the banded candle. "The candle has four more hours to burn. You will work until then. The door will be locked until that time, after that you will be fed. While you work, the speaker will teach. Can you sew?"

Layali whispered, "Y-Yes, a little bit, L-Lady Grel."

"Good." Lady Grel's dour frown lessened a little, though it was no smile, her cane lowered until the tip tapped the floor again and she reached for the door.

She turned the knob and swung it open.

Layali did not step forward.

In front of her were long tables, row by row and end to end, and at each table sat a stool, on each stool sat a young girl around her size, all of them wearing old, worn out brown clothes. Simple laced up shirts and skirts that were little better than bolts of cloth with laces sewn into place where the two ends met. As to shoes, some had them, others did not, those who did, wore shoes that were little better than leather nailed to untreated wooden bases. At the head of the class stood an equally old man who, for the dour face Layali could see, not to mention his matching cane, might as well have been Lady Grel's own brother.

Every girl who sat on the bench was busy working, with needle and thread over cloth. When the door opened, their eyes met hers just as hers met theirs. It was a familiar look. 'When I was in the river… away from Cerebrate, before I knew I couldn't die, but was already dead…'

A chill went down her spine, the girls who worked were not starving, but to call them well fed would have been false. Their legs and arms were thin, a far cry from the health Layali now exhibited thanks to the copious amounts of food she'd gotten used to. The looks they gave her ran from hateful to pitying, and they did not last long.

"I have another one for you Hazeh. She can sew some," Lady Grel said and looked down at the top of Layali's head, "or so she says. Put her to work, her clothes will be waiting for her and the others can show her where to eat and sleep."

The one called 'Hazeh' took a look at her and motioned to the tables. "Back to work!" Hazeh barked at the girls who briefly paused, and pointed to an empty stool. "Fine, Grel, fine. Do I need to mind the boys for you?"

"No, that won't be necessary. Just don't fall behind, it would be a shame if we did, and had to… oh say, cut rations again because we simply couldn't afford enough." Grel said with an eye toward the tables.

Layali's indignation rose like a fire in her belly. She'd seen the sum paid to take care of her, a fortune in a single hand, working in her father's house taught her things… and there was no doubt in her mind what was happening. The working girls sped up, but Layali whirled on Grel and stared up at her with hate filled eyes. "You liar! Momma and Papa paid enough for you to feed me and everybody here good food for years! You're a bad one! Just a greedy, evil person!" She searched her memory for any words that would do, anything that would convey her contempt and disgust the right way…

Finally she found them. "Fuck… you!" She screamed it with such virulence that it was as if time stopped dead, mouths fell open in shock from the youngest, smallest girl, to the old man and Grel herself.

"You ungrateful trash! I was being nice using only my hand because I thought you were smart! But I see you need the cane!" Grel hissed.

Layali however, felt tears of rage burn in her eyes and hissed back with the same hatred, "If you lay one hand on me… when momma Zesshi and Papa Brain come back… you'll wish they only killed you! They killed a monster to protect me, then we cooked and ate it." She licked her lips, "It was delicious."

Grel took a step back from the girl, and for just a moment, she believed.

The unbridled conviction in Layali's eyes was hard to doubt.

But experience taught the old woman otherwise.

"Stupid girl! Nobody ever comes back! You're here till somebody picks you to work for them. You're here because you were a burden. Because they didn't want you. Because they didn't need you! That's why everybody is here, and that's why you'll be here until we're done with you!" Grel hissed, raised her cane, and pushed the tip against Layali's chest, sending the small girl staggering backward until she fell.

"You're wrong!" Layali shouted, not hearing Hazeh approach over the sound of her crying defiance. "You heard them! They left me to keep me safe! Because it was dangerous! They'll come back for me!"

The withered hand of the old man grabbed her by the back of her neck and squeezed, briefly cutting off her power of speech. She grunted as she was slammed down over one of the tables under the watching eyes of the other workers, "You will learn respect! Spare the hand, spoil the child!" Hazeh shouted, and his own cane struck Layali on her backside.

"You will not speak to adults that way! You speak when spoken to! We are your parents now and we will teach you… you'll learn… you all learn!" He shouted and brought it down again and again with a resounding smack against her behind.

Layali yowled once before she found her words. "They'll kill you! I'll tell them what you did and they'll kill you!"

Lady Grel only laughed, "Foolish girl, if we ever see them again, we'll eat our canes."

Layali stopped screaming profanities and threats after a few more such strokes, but she glared at the old woman until, huffing and puffing, exhausted by his age and effort, Hazeh let her go.

"Now sit." He said and pointed to a stool again, "And sew. The others will show you, and do not let me hear those tears." He snapped. "Children need discipline, and that's not worth crying over."

With nothing else she could do or think to say, she set her jaw and, though she winced when sitting at the table, she did, then picked up a needle and thread, and started to work.