Of Sea and Stone (Secrets of Itlantis) (7 page)

I did not hear what Nol’s duties were to be, for the doumeu was already motioning for me to follow her. She stepped through a doorway into an impossibly long hallway, and I hurried to keep up.

The hallway ended at a round room with a slatted floor. Through the slats, I could see a long, dark emptiness.

I stopped to stare, and Crakea planted her hand between my shoulder blades and shoved. I stumbled forward.

Gilded metal doors closed behind us like a cage. When I looked up I saw light, but it was far away. The floor beneath us lurched and then lifted. I gasped as my stomach plunged, and I grabbed at the walls to steady myself.

Crakea’s mouth twisted in a mean smile. “You must be stupid if you don’t know what a lift is.”

I opened my mouth to respond, and she slapped me so hard my ears popped and tears stung my eyes.

“Don’t you dare answer back. Hold your tongue unless you are asked a direct question, girl.”

We locked eyes, and she smirked because she knew I would back down. I had to.

We faced off for a moment while the lift clicked upward and shadows lapped across her sharp-featured face, and then I dropped my head and curled my fingers into fists. I knew better than to challenge her.

“That’s better,” the doumeu said.

The lift shuddered and stopped, and the cage door swung open. A soft blue light spilled into the lift.

If the bottom floor of Merelus’s home had impressed me, this wing of the house overwhelmed me. A waterfall poured over a styled stone ledge, spilling into a crystal bathtub that faced a transparent wall showing the blue waters of the sea. Fish drifted by inches from my face. Sunlight, distorted and diluted by the sea, danced over the crystal faucets and metal supports that stretched overhead like trees, and a meditative silence blanketed the room.

It was like a mermaid’s grotto.

“The bath chamber,” Crakea said. “But this one is not for use by the likes of you. Come with me.”

She said it as if I were another species.

We passed into a smaller room with a glass ceiling and a narrower tub made of polished green stone that was still more magnificent than anything I’d ever dreamed of washing in. Crakea pressed a button by the door, and a sail-like curtain snapped across the ceiling of glass. The room felt too small without the sea looking in.

“Don’t just stand there,” Crakea said. “Undress and get in. You’re filthy.”

I hesitated a second before pulling off my clothes. I didn’t want to disrobe in front of her critical gaze, but it seemed I had no other choice. I stripped off my clothing, feeling like a crab removing its shell before a hungry gull.

Crakea sniffed dismissively at my skinny frame but said nothing. My face grew hot, but I refused to try to hide myself with my hands. I stood straight, defiant.

Once I was naked and my clothes in a heap beside me, the doumeu turned a knob, and steaming water began to fill the tub. She motioned for me to get in, and I lowered myself into the foaming water as she dumped fragrant-smelling salts into the bubbling pool around me.

“Scrub yourself all over. Wash your hair too. I’ll bring you something suitable to wear, something befitting your new station.”

With that, she left, leaving me alone.

I sank down until only the top of my head remained above the water. The salts in the water relaxed my muscles and unwound the tightness in my back. My nose tickled with the pungent, soothing scent, and my fingertips and toes tingled.

Remembering the doumeu’s admonishment, I washed my hair and body with a buttery-smooth soap that lay beside the tub’s edge. The lather smelled like milk, and it scrubbed away the grime and oil on my body. By the time Crakea returned, carrying a plain gray garment over her arm, my skin felt smooth as sea glass.

She looked me over and grunted, as if displeased that she saw nothing she could scold me for.

“Get out. We have work to do.”

I climbed from the tub and snatched the towel from her hand to cover myself. Once dried, I tugged on the garment and knotted the sash around my waist. My hair hung down my back, dripping, soaking the cloth, and splattering on the floor.

“Braid it,” Crakea ordered. “You need to keep it out of the way while you work.”

I twisted my wet mane into a four-strand braid, the way my mother had taught me. When I was finished, Crakea motioned for me to follow her through a hall of glass and into another room.

“This is the chamber of the master’s daughter.”

I drifted after her, staring open-mouthed at the wonders that surrounded me. Pillars of twisted metal held up a ceiling painted with murals of whales and fish. Walls of glass showed more vistas of blue ocean and rippling sunlight. In the center of the room was a bed draped with gauzy curtains and piled with pillows. Next to the bed was a gilded box with half a dozen drawers, probably for clothing. At the far wall, a table of metal embedded with knobs stood against the glass.

Gradually, I noticed the crumpled garments on the shimmering floor, the dirty plates piled on the magnificent silken bed, the clutter of bottles on the gilded box.

“Don’t just stand there,” the doumeu snapped. “We don’t have much time to clean between the time when the young mistress leaves for her dance lessons and when she returns. The room must be spotless.”

Under her critical eye, I snatched up a few discarded bits of clothing and laid them on the bed. Crakea scowled at my attempts to fold them, taking them from me and demonstrating. Then she watched again as I tried to mimic her attempts.

“You must have lived in a mud hole before now to be so inept,” she said.

I flushed, but I kept my tongue between my teeth and didn’t respond. The doumeu observed me for a few seconds, gauging my reaction before pointing at the garments on the bed.

“Do it again. You’re no use to me if you can’t do your chores.”

After six more attempts, I got the clothing smoothed to her liking. She directed me to put it in the gilded box beside the wall. I tugged on the handles, and smaller boxes slid forward, revealing other garments that were also neatly folded. I remembered seeing such a piece of furniture before, in the house of a wealthy village elder. I’d never had such a luxury. My clothing had always hung on hooks on the wall.

“Now that you’ve mastered a task a child of three could do,” said Crakea, “let me show you some of your other duties.”

We gathered the dirty plates from beside the bed and then rode the lift in another stomach-twisting descent, this time to the kitchen. Here, in a gleaming room of metal and steam, cooks prepared bubbling pots of fish and crab. The aromas made my head spin with hunger.

But after we’d unloaded the plates into a steaming vat of water, the doumeu pushed me through the doors again. “Come,” she barked. “There is still more to show you.”

I swallowed a sigh and followed her.

The chores dragged on in an endless blur. Crakea showed me how to use a bucket and a brush to scrub the gleaming floors of the beautiful bedroom so that they shone even brighter. She explained how to wipe down the glittery transparent walls so the fish swirling around outside were visible, and how to work the knobs of the metal table so that curtains covered the glass and filled the room with shifting shadows. She showed me how to turn another knob so that lights set in the ceiling glowed softly, bathing everything in violet light. She made me stoop and kneel and lift and stretch until my back and shoulders were aching.

As arduous as the work was, it let me explore the house, which appeared to be round, with hallways on every level leading away from the lift like spokes of a wheel. All kinds of wonderful rooms opened off these hallways—bathing chambers, bedrooms, living spaces, and other wonders that I had no name for. When the doumeu finally dismissed me to eat my meal in the servants’ room, my muscles were stiff and my back throbbed. I’d grown soft from captivity in a metal ship’s hold.

I wandered in the gilded hallways as I looked for the servants’ room. I passed a large door, from under which light and sound emanated. I put my ear to the crack, and heard laughter and the tinkle of dishes.

“Girl!”

I turned my head. A dark-haired man stood at the far end of the hallway, hands on his hips and a frown on his face. “What are you doing up here?”

My heart pounded and my face flushed. “I’m looking for the servants’ room.”

“That’s downstairs by the utility lift.” He had brown hair, brown eyes, and brown skin. He wore a one piece garment underneath his open robe, just like the men who had captured us.

I realized he was waiting for me to respond. “Thank you.”

His eyes traced my face. “Be sure you don’t get lost again. You might be punished for being in this part of the house.”

He seemed concerned for me, and I didn’t understand it. I took a step back, glancing toward the lift at the end of the hall. He let me go without protest, but I held my breath until I’d made it into the cage of metal and pushed the button that made it go down.

I RAN INTO Nol leaving the lift. His head was down, and his shoulder collided with mine. He lifted his head to look at me, turning away again when he realized it was me.

I didn’t care if he hated me. We needed to compare information if we ever wanted to figure anything out about this place.

“What are your duties?” I asked.

The muscle in his jaw twitched. He looked at the wall. “Keeping the master’s records, cleaning his study, attending to his needs.”

“An assistant,” I said, startled. That was much higher than my lowly position of maid. How had he scored such a good place in the household already?

“Slave,” he spat. “No matter what name you try to give it.”

“Perhaps it’s because—”

“Listen to me,” Nol said, cutting me off. “I do not want to discuss this wretched business with you.”

“Fine,” I said, turning away. If that was what he wanted, so be it.

I fell into step beside him as we headed down the long hall toward a door marked with the words INDENTUREDS’ DINING ROOM. Some of the letters were strange, but I could still read it. The written language was not too different from what I was familiar with.

Nearly a dozen servants sat at tables around the room, some eating stew from metal bowls, some talking, some half-dozing with their heads propped on one hand. The hum of voices died down as soon as we stepped into the room. All eyes fastened on us, and I felt the heat of their curiosity in their stares.

We stopped.

After a few seconds of silent staring, everyone returned to his or her tasks, and we were forgotten. I followed Nol to the stew pot. He dumped the watery meat soup into a bowl, his eyes fixed on the food. We didn’t speak, but I noticed the way his hand shook on the ladle. When he’d gotten his food, he went and sat alone at the far end of one of the tables. I went to the opposite side of the room and sank down into the first empty chair I found.

“You and the other new one don’t seem to like each other too much,” someone commented.

I looked up to see a thin-faced, brown-skinned young man with thick black hair and a scar down one cheek watching me over his bowl of food. He spooned some stew into his mouth and chewed, waiting for my response. A honey-complexioned girl with large, dark eyes and full lips sat beside him. She offered me a small smile.

“No,” I said, looking down at my bowl.

“I heard you arrived together. Do you know each other?”

“Don’t ask so many questions, Tob,” the girl beside him said. “It’s rude.”

Tob grinned. “Sorry. I had a bad fall a year ago and damaged my head, and now I can be a bit rash with my words. I don’t mean any harm. Mella here usually tells me when I’m being a offensive.”

The girl, Mella, nodded at me in greeting. Her gaze flicked over me, and I had the feeling that she missed no details.

“Didn’t you arrive today?” Tob asked. He took another bite of his stew.

“Tob,” Mella said again. “Rude.”

“It’s all right. Yes, I arrived today.” I struggled to keep my voice stoic, but the words wobbled on my tongue.

“You sound sad. But don’t worry,” Tob said. “You’ll get the hang of things quickly.”

I sighed and tasted the stew. It was plain but filling, much tastier than the cubes from the ship, and I ate quickly.

“Don’t mind that mess,” Tob said as he watched me eat. “The cooks here have no finesse. They burn everything, and they’ve no imagination at all when it comes to ingredients.”

“Tob fancies himself to be a cook,” Mella said.

“Fancies? I could make a lobster pastry that would make you weep with joy,” he said. “If only they would let me touch the food.”

“I’ve heard some of your ideas,” Mella said. “Perhaps the cooks are wise to keep you away from it?”

“It’s called a shock cook,” he said. “They are popular in Primus. They make the strangest things delicious. It’s an art.”

Mella made a face. “I don’t want the word shocking used to describe my dinner, thank you very much.”

“You’d be shocked at how much you loved it,” Tob promised.

“Is Merelus a good master?” I needed to learn my place, my lines. I needed to know the lay of this land if I wanted to escape. If I wanted to find Perilous.

Tob shrugged. “He has his quirks, but he’s one of the better ones. We don’t see him much. He spends most of his time with his books.”

“He’s a scholar,” Mella said.

I wondered if Merelus was considered rich in this society, or if houses like this one were the usual fair in Celestrus. I wondered how the people of this place had come to live this way. How had they built such cities? Why did they live below the sea? But I dared not ask. I was supposed to be from this world.

“I heard you were from far away,” Tob said. “And you have an accent I’ve never heard before. Are you from one of the new colonies?”

“Something like that,” I said. “It was very remote.”

His expression sagged with disappointment as he realized I wasn’t going to chatter about the details. “Not even a hint?”

Mella poked him. “Every Indentured has the right to keep quiet about his or her past. You know that.”