"I was going to visit my father," Orliff said. "I'll take him with me." Orliff went to grab Niff's hand before he could go out the door.
* * *
Orliff was telling me to come; I understood that word now. I didn't know what he was saying after he said come, though. I blew out a breath, let him keep his grip on my hand and followed him out the door and down the long hallway that led to the front entrance.
We walked through the city that day instead of riding; I was able to see more of it that way. Most of the city was rebuilding—I was glad about that, but much of it was still empty space. The comesuli had been busy—most of the rubble was cleared away already. Some buildings still stood—we passed the occasional open shop and vegetable market, all with goods and wares on display. Small comesuli were running and chasing one another through the streets, laughing while they did so. That cheered me up, although it did make me wonder how many children died when the Ra'Ak attacked.
Orliff and I walked for an hour before we came to a shop where rugs were sold. It smelled of wool, dye and a brush with Ra'Ak scales. An older comesula came forward and hugged Orliff when we arrived. I knew by scent that he was Orliff's parent, though they looked nothing alike. Orliff explained that I was handicapped and his parent, whose name was Paraf, motioned for me to follow him and found a chair for me inside his tiny living quarters. Orliff and I were served tea and small pieces of dried fruit dipped in sugar. Paraf and Orliff had catching up to do; they talked nonstop for two hours, after which we ate a small meal and then the talking began again. It was late afternoon when they finally ran down—Paraf often left us to help a customer.
His rugs were beautifully patterned, and made of colorful, hand-dyed wool. I'd fingered one or two of them while we'd stood inside his shop early on. Paraf was three hundred years old; I could tell from his scent. He'd also been making rugs for a very long time; that was obvious. Curiously, I watched Paraf as he bargained with a High Demon for two rugs, eventually accepting six gold pieces for both. At least somebody was getting paid for their labor.
Orliff and I made our way back to the palace, returning in time to get dinner in the kitchen. I was served a plate of food and it wasn't the scrapings, this time. Dinner was chicken stew, and it made me want to bake biscuits to go with it—to make a chicken pot pie. I held back though, eating my dinner gratefully.
That was my life for the next six weeks; seven days in the kitchen, followed by a day off. I wanted to go back to the arboretum, but was too afraid I'd run into other High Demons so I didn't risk it. I also wanted to turn to mist at times and sit on one of the palace domes. That would probably scare Orliff and Noff to death; they kept a close eye on me whenever I wasn't working in the kitchen. I didn't want to frighten them; they were doing their best to take care of me, even if I did appear to be a disabled casualty of war.
I was adding to my vocabulary, too, but I hadn't attempted speech. I wasn’t sure I could pronounce the words. I understood everything better, at least—Cheedas didn't have to mime so much. I understood cut up carrots or stir the soup or any number of other cooking-related sentences. I got a few other words out of kitchen gossip; the comesuli did love to gossip. None of it had to do with somebody's daughter or girlfriend getting pregnant or fooling around with anybody. The comesuli didn't have sex and their children were produced autonomously.
A pregnant comesula worked in the kitchen and wore a type of sling over his shoulder to hold up his pouch—it was growing on his lower left side. I found that fascinating. I also heard the word Baetrah mentioned and discovered that the pregnant comesula was missing a traditional trip to the volcano because it erupted and the Southern Continent wasn't a safe place to visit at the moment. I didn't know that soon I would be headed in that direction myself.
* * *
"You're taking a comesula injured during the attacks?" Glinda had hands on her hips as she glared at Jayd's brother.
"He cooks very well and since he can't speak, he can't scold me," Garde smiled. He was irritating Glinda, which suited him very well. Long ago, more than twelve hundred years, in fact, he'd taught Glinda. She'd learned how to fight from him. He'd also taught her how to skip and write and many other things High Demons were expected to know. He'd angered her, too, when he told her what her life would be as a High Demon female. She'd skipped right off the planet and had gone missing for a very long time, until his brother found her by accident. She had absolutely no respect for Gardevik or his position as Jayd's Prime Minister, and Garde didn't mind in the least.
"You said I could choose my guards and commons; therefore Niff is coming with me. Good luck on getting those mashed potatoes you like so well," Garde grinned.
"I can still throw things at you and I won't miss," Glinda snapped, her blue eyes flashing a warning at Gardevik Rath.
"Then I will leave you now before the projectiles fly," Garde was still grinning. "I will inform Cheedas that Niff is coming with me. That ought to anger him enough that you'll not get a decent meal for a week." Gardevik left Glinda's quarters, laughing when he heard her shouting, "Jaydevik, come and kill your brother for me!"
* * *
Orliff was upset; I could tell immediately, as he gestured for me to fold and pack my clothing into a shapeless bag. I offered him a puzzled glance as he did his best to explain something to me, but my limited vocabulary prevented me from understanding much of it. He said Niff several times, the word go and somewhere in all that he said Baetrah. Were they sending me to the Southern Continent? To the volcano? I thought it was dangerous there. There was probably ash to be dealt with, and none of my borrowed clothing went well with blackish-gray. A strange comesula came in, dressed in a palace guard's uniform. He seemed to be asking if I were ready. He also had more clothing and a pair of boots in his hands, which he handed off to Orliff. Orliff gestured for me to wear one of the new uniforms, so I went to the bathroom to change.
* * *
"He'll lose that modesty quickly when we travel through the deserted areas," Veris, captain of the common guard grumbled as Niff walked out of the bathroom, dressed in the uniform and boots Veris supplied.
"He is not whole," Orliff snapped. "If an entire shop had fallen on your head, I would hope others might be sympathetic to your plight. Neither I nor my instructor thinks this is a good idea and your taking of Niff goes against Darvul's better judgment."
"I would not take him," Veris snapped back, "but Gardevik is demanding it. He wants Niff to cook for him and be his valet while we are on this mission for the Queen." Orliff was still grumbling when Niff was instructed to follow Veris out of the suite.