Jasnah - JerrickRafe
-
"Psst."
The voice came from side door to the kitchens, where Jasnah quietly worked, chopping vegetables for the evening meal. The rhythmic click of the knife against the board didn't falter, and she seemingly paid the noise no mind.
"Psst, hey!" The whispered voice, more insistent now, came from that back door, as if somebody's mouth were against the peek-slit. "I know you're in there. Please, he told me I HAVE to give this to you. Please!"
She rolled her eyes, figuring it for some kind of silly test. The Master did this on occasion, she heard, but it had never happened to her. Though she hated the beatings, and condescension, the scorn, and the servitude, she wasn't about to pay for her dissatisfaction with her life. No, being a slave was not a fun life, but it was a life regardless. Jasnah was not about to risk that. While she craved freedom, she had enough freedom to know that it could be worse, even if she didn't get killed for disobedience or worse.
She had her rules, for example.
No sight, no sound, and eyes cast down, is as good as a shadow, unseen.
No work undone by setting sun, no reason to question, you're clean.She had no idea where she heard the little nursery rhyme sounding words, but they served her well, since she was young. If she didn't speak, and didn't make noise, stayed out of sight, and worked quickly and quietly, she was overlooked. Like furniture. If her chores were done, and she obeyed without question, only being seen where she was expected, so that she could be given tasks … well, she was a working tool, and working tools don't get broken. The other servants were not always as smart, or as lucky.
"Psst! Pleeeeease. You don't understand! I can't be free if you don't help me! This is my ONE chance!"
The voice nagged at her like a scab, itching away at her calm. The doorknob rattled as they got brave enough to try the scullery door's handle, and Jasnah winced. Letting this go on would be -almost- as bad as getting caught doing whatever this person wanted her to do ... letting the Master get annoyed by something was lunacy. His temper was short, as deep in his ledgers and studies as he tended to get, as he abhorred interruption.
She glanced up at the door only once, eyes narrowing, her mind wandering just that little bit toward a brief moment of hope that perhaps if she helped, if she did something, she too, could be free of this tiresome drudgery and fear, but she shook her head, slid the chopped food off the cutting board and into a pot, before moving to the next task. The brief scuffle outside the door was the last the heard of that voice, and by the next week, half a dozen dinner preparations later, she had all but forgotten about it.
She was therefore surprised, when there was a tiny, subtle noise at the door once more. No deliveries were scheduled, no guests expected, and it was the middle of the day. Granted, day and night meant little in Oscura to most, but her household kept surface friendly hours, likely due to the Master's trade or something. She wasn't certain of that fact, but every chore she'd had to perform topside, it had been daylight out, and painfully bright.
The noise did not continue, and she was about to dismiss it altogther, except that when she glanced back up this once, she saw a piece of paper sticking into the peep-slot. She hesitated, then, wiping her hands on her apron. She was supposed to bring correspondence to Him at once. Nobody ever delivered to this door, though. The brief memory of that person from before flickered across her mind, and she shook the thought loose at once. No, this couldn't be the same. She would just grab this and take it right upstairs. Surely it was sealed anyhow.
Stepping across the kitchen, she pucked loose the note, and nearly jumped out of her skin when a voice spoke on the other side of the door, just barely audible, but clear nonetheless in that moment.
"Do this, and the next delivery will be for you."
The voice was silent then, and though she couldn't hear a single footstep on the other side of the door, she had the suspicion that there was no longer anybody there. Driven by fear, then, that she'd been discovered not working, she ran back to her table and resumed the preparation of the meat pies for that night's meal, note tucked away in a pocket, nearly forgotten about until she was alone again that evening, cleaning up while the rest of the house settled in to sleep.
In a simple, elegant script, were the following words:
~Your master's subtlety is lacking. Fame is for the foolish. Leave the door unlocked four nights from now, Jasnah, and you'll find a clean rag awaiting you, your contract cleared.~ No signature followed.
Burning the note was simple. The struggle not to read it again, and again, and again, was not. It was, in fact, a lucky thing that she did not, too, as in that moment, someone entered the kitchen. Her heart leapt into her throat as another member of the household, the Master's son, cleared his own throat noisily. She was so distracted, she hadn't heard him, and she silently cursed herself for being foolish. Surely this was a game, or a trap, or a test. Nothing could be worth the risk, surely. Not even the tempting thought of freedom.
The young man's cruel eyes flicked over her as she turned to face him, looking a few inches in front of her feet, head bowed nonconfrontationally.
"I've seen the way you look at me." He said.
Lies.
"Why don't you admit it?"
Never.
"What, am I not your Master too? Answer me." His demand was tinged with annoyance, but it came across as whiny. A petulant lordling not getting his way... it must have shown on her face, what she thought, just then. "Well if that's how it is, you're getting shown who your betters are, right here, right now you little..."
That night, in the kitchen, her mind was made up.
Four nights later, in the kitchen, the door clicked open from the inside, and swung outward on silent hinges.
A package was left on the counter, in sight of the girl who hid behind the woodpile, in the far end of the kitchen. A nod was given in her direction, though she was SURE she couldn't been seen back there. A scuffle was heard upstairs, brief, and quiet. A door swung open once more, and was shut behind a female form as Jasnah left, and headed straight for the herald, bearing a basket with a document, a bag, and a rag.
-
Reviewed, xp awarded.
