The Continent (The Continent #1)(53)

“Do you think the council might be inclined?”

“Ah. No.”

My shoulders slump. “But why ever not?”

“I’m sorry. I know you are accustomed to your… conveniences. But frankly…” He picks up the drawing and shakes his head, then looks at me directly. “A privy inside the house, girl? That is disgusting.”





CHAPTER 18





THERE MUST BE A WAY TO PLEASE SHOSHI KAKEN.

This was the thought that governed my mind as I began my second month of work, as I shoveled and toiled and smiled through my own stink and sweat out in the field. There must be a way. He is a man like any other. A person.

Last week, I spent half an afternoon in the kitchen making an incredible sweetened pastry—a light and golden thing drizzled with honey (Yuki did most of the work, but I helped). When I brought Shoshi the package, he opened it and said, “No.”

No.

Not No, thank you, or I appreciate this kind gesture, Vaela Sun, but I prefer savory foods, or Aren’t you a sweet girl? Perhaps I have misjudged you all along!

Just No. He closed the bag, returned it, and ignored me until I left his office. My fine dessert went to waste, sitting out in the sun while I filled my wheelbarrow with manure and tried to figure out what, exactly, had gone wrong. I decided I would redouble my efforts—perhaps working longer hours would please him. It might demonstrate my commitment to the farm, after all.

Although…commitment is a difficult thing to prove, and mine was slightly undermined when I struck a charging bull in the face with a shovel. It had loped into the pen unannounced, and got up to quite a trot once it saw me. I did not know what to do—two thousand pounds of muscle with nasty-looking horns was coming at me so quickly, and I just…I jumped out of the way and swung the shovel with all my might. I watched in horror and relief as its knees buckled—for one long, terrible moment, I feared that I had killed it, but the bull promptly got back up. I hightailed it over the fence only to run smack into Shoshi and receive an earful of what I assume was a long string of Aven’ei profanity.

I stayed late into the afternoon for the next two days, lending a hand to the other workers wherever I could make myself useful. On the third day, Shoshi stopped me as I was leaving.

“Don’t think you’re going to get any more oka out of me. You’ll have two a week, whether you stay six hours or ten. Stay all day long if you please. But it’s two oka, and not a tuka more.”

“I don’t expect extra pay,” I said. “I just wanted to help.”

“I already see your face more than I please,” he said. “Next time you work, go home when you’re scheduled to leave.”

He is a person, I thought to myself, though the words felt a bit empty. Knowing that someone resents your actual face takes some of the fun out of trying to make him happy. But, that night, my enthusiasm was renewed, for I finally discovered it: The Thing That Would Please Him.

I’ve learned in my time here that the Aven’ei are very fond of repurposed Topi weaponry—that is, weapons confiscated during capture or battle that have been remade to suit Aven’ei standards. These are a bit like trophies, I think, and many of the broadswords and other weapons I see in the village have traces of Topi paint, or bone handles, or something to signify their origin. Even the children collect them: clubs and bows and such (adult Aven’ei archers won’t touch a Topi bow; the Aven’ei design is purported to be vastly superior).

In the marketplace after work, I saw an exciting thing: a short Topi dagger with a wide blade and a handle of bone—and it cost only a single oka! I’d never seen a weapon priced so low. Noro doesn’t go in for Topi weaponry (I think he is impervious to fads of any kind), but Shoshi does. Every sword I’ve seen him carry—and he owns several—is a remade Topi artifact.

I didn’t hesitate when I saw how inexpensive it was; I purchased it from the grinning old proprietor and took it straight home, where I set the blade on the mantel and admired it all night. This was the ticket.

The following morning, I made my way to the farm with a spring in my step, the little knife like a stone in my pocket. I did not go straight to Shoshi’s office as I had with the pastry; I thought I would affect a more casual air about things, so as not to make it seem like a grand gesture. My thinking was that he would be more receptive if the gift was not given formally.

I waited until early afternoon for Shoshi to emerge from his offices, and called him over.

“What is it?” he asked. “Trouble with the wheelbarrow again?”

“Oh, no, I’ve got that well in hand nowadays. I actually have something for you.”

His eyes narrowed. “Not another sweet, I hope?”

“No, no.” My heart thrummed in my chest. “But I did bring you a little something. Nothing of consequence, just something that made me think of you when I saw it.”

I produced the knife from my pocket and held it out for him. He took the dagger and inspected it carefully, turning it several times in his palm. Then he looked up at me. “How did you come to acquire this object?”

“I saw it in the marketplace.”

“And you purchased it?”

“It was inexpensive,” I said, waving a hand. “Just a trifle, really.”