Ardalia: The Breath of Aoles

Chapter Two - STRANGE COMPANY

The first glimmers of Astar were coming through the window of the tiny bedroom and settling on Pelmen's face. He opened his eyes and got up at once. Not wanting to change his routine, he went out to perform his ablutions.

In the kitchen, where his father was already at breakfast, Pelmen wore an expression of morose resignation. In reality, he was seething inside. He forced himself to absorb his dish of veguer'en cereal mixed with water unhurriedly. He was so used to it that it was insipid. His father enthused about a new consignment of nidepoux hides; Pelmen replied with a word here or there.

Zenel looked at him. "You have to learn to love the work, son. It'll be easier if you do, much easier."

Pelmen bit his lip to keep from replying. It was too soon to tell his father exactly what was on his mind. The best thing to do was to let Zenel think he had given up, and then give him proof of good will at the tannery to get him into a good mood. In the evening, he would ask his father to go with him. If he approached him in the right way, Zenel would be unable to refuse. That was necessary, because there was so very little time left.

Pelmen was very active that morning. He prepared the tanning baths, brushed the hides, and buckled down to skinning animals with unusual zeal.

He used his hand to wipe his brow, which was streaming with sweat. As usual, Zenel did not seem to notice his renewed effort. From the day he had begun work at the tannery he had not been given any compliment, or even simple encouragement. I probably won't get one or the other today, either.

The nidepoux he was attacking was one of the toughest. Pelmen gritted his teeth. He leaned on his flint with all his weight, engraving a profound groove along the spinal column. He grimaced. A scarlet drop pearled in the palm of his hand. Followed by several others, it was about to mingle with the blood of the dead animal. Pelmen seized a rag from a bag provided for that purpose and bandaged the cut on his hand. He resumed work, cutting more carefully. The overseer, Olgen Peaudecuir, didn't like it when Pelmen hurt himself, thinking it slowed him down too much. He could not, however, fault his apprentice for wanting to put his heart into the work.

When it was time for their midday meal, the tanners went into the side room which served as a dining area. Zenel sat down to the right of Olgen Peaudecuir, who was enthroned at the head of a long rectangular table, upon which a clay soup dish was set. Pelmen's place was the one furthest away from the overseer. The meal unfolded following an unchanging ritual, Master Olgen serving himself first, then Zenel, Jenin, Meslen, Hitaro, Welen and finally Pelmen. The tanners would hang on the Master's every word, wondering how they might please him or show themselves in a good light.

While eating his soup, Pelmen started thinking about the best way to approach his father at the end of the day. He didn't want to run the risk of an immediate refusal. The best strategy would doubtless be to beat around the bush a little, by first gaining his father's interest, but how?

Betting! Zenel liked to bet on nidepoux races.

It seemed like a good idea; he would offer to make a bet with his father. If he lost, Zenel could have his next meal, but if he won, he would be allowed to leave without any more arguments. Pelmen would have to hit one of the wooden stakes in the corridor three times in a row with the thorns shot from his bow in order to win. A hundred paces would be a good distance.

Pelmen looked at his bandaged hand. His injury represented a handicap, but maybe also a trump card. Because of that, Zenel would be convinced his son's chances were slim. He would be bound to accept.

The afternoon stretched out interminably. Zenel went into the workshop to lend a hand to Olgen, and did not reappear. That annoyed Pelmen.

I hope he's still here at the end of the day. I need to find him quickly to make my demonstration before Astar sets, and also get my bow. It was in his bedroom; he would have no time to lose.