The Deepcombers

Chapter Thirty Seven

Music made by flute and string and the drumming of many marching feet drifted into the Working Place.  Lon watched the entrance to see who'd appear and was surprised when two dozen red-faced school children paraded into the grotto. Each lizard child carried some element of the lunch they'd prepared and they set-up on a shorter-than-usual buffet table.

How odd, thought Lon, that even the youngest people in the settlement should deliver sustenance to this place. The old medico smiled at the rosy-faced schoolmarm. She bowed formally and the two conversed in friendly banter. Minders set-up the meal and other teachers calmed the kids; twenty four rambunctious children pestered the young masters at the table.

A gaggle of rosy-face girls swarmed around Saeya who knelt beside the gathering and addressed one child by name, "Dassebonyius Sandringa," she said and the schoolgirl issued a slithering reply. She was adorable in her innocence, but a little mischievous too.  She pointed-up at Lon and asked a question. Saeya blushed and stood up quick without responding. All the children laughed at her embarrassment.

The visitors regarded Lon with awe. It was clear they'd seen and heard of this newcomer but this was the first time they'd gotten close to him. They eyed his long curly white hair and bruised face with fear and wonder.

On the table behind the group, the picnic was ladled into bowls. The lunch was a creamy cheese soup served with great hunks of cracked wheat bread. Each diner got a tray with their soup plus cheese and pickles.

These were incredibly disciplined kids and Lon marveled at how easily they formed a line. They didn't jostle or horse-around and the first ones through sat down quietly on the grass to eat. But he did observe one sad fact. 

The students were mostly all female. This was proof that Calbian males who're born healthy and strong did not attend school. There were none of those here. The four boys he did see were all lizard-weaklings, too cowardly to compete for anyone's attention or even speak-up for themselves. They sat on the grass together and were shunned by the rest of the assembly. They seemed content to eat in silence and watch the girls rule the party.

Lon took his portions and thanked the servers who blushed and tittered. But instead of returning to sit with the other masters, he chose instead to picnic beside this outcast group. They all smiled and turned their bodies to be in a circle with him as they ate their soup.

One sickly little fellow caught his eye and communicated the only way he knew how. He raised his little red hand and made a swishing sound with his mouth to demonstrate what he imagined it must be like to make bolts of fire and ice with Varget. Lon knew exactly what he was doing because he'd done it himself when he was about same age, after one of his uncles had read some deepcombers' story to him. But now he knew it wasn't that easy, and here he was ten years later still trying to figure it out.

In the next group over, the youngest of the schoolteachers stood up and bowed at Melcart and spoke in the common tongue. "Friend." She began awkwardly, "Perhapss a... " she faltered, "...Young masterss will perform... A sspecial show?" The school marm bowed to complete the request and the children cheered. This was only the second time Lon had ever heard a red-skinned reptile use Common. He'd come to believe only Captain Owen had ever been beyond the walls. By the way the other school matrons congratulated the speaker he wondered if the Common language was her chosen field of study.  She'd asked for a special show?

Zed shook his head no and gave Melcart a sour look. "... You see what you've started? Now they'll expect a trick every lunch." The medico scowled again, and everyone came to understand the old master did not believe in anyone spending smilk for entertainment purposes. "It's because he's been doing tricks for them at these lunches," the sage complained. "Groundsmilk is not to be bandied about for school children."