(Disclaimer: There's some uncouth language about in this. Probably some questionable implications, depending on how you take it. But this is just a thing of backstory for Niah. A snapshot into how she lived with her mother.)
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“They say she don’t really know what she’s doing. You’d best be taking Selene somewhere proper if you want to see that rash get treated up good.” The man threw back another quick swig of the barkeep’s questionable concoction, slamming the mug back down to the grimy wooden table. One hand going to perch on his hip, as if he spoke with some certain authority, Alden, as he was called, used the other to point a fat finger at the two other men with him. “The woman just rolls her wagon in here, claiming she can do healing work. Ain’t nothing to it. Charlatan, if you ask me.”
From the corner of the tavern, a young girl held her tea cup in hand with an even gaze towards them. Running a finger around its rim, she frowned when the two of his lackeys nodded in enthusiastic agreement. Poorer men, by the looks of them. She could tell they were laborers by the callouses on their hands and heinous pit stains on their tunics. Likely working at the nearby docks, if she had to guess. Her stare was trained on them, a predatory look in her brown eyes becoming more sharpened the farther their conversation went on.
“I don’t know, Alden. Might be better than nothing, going to her. Selene ain’t really been sleeping it’s been botherin’ her so bad.”
Alden would have none of that. The girl stopped running her finger around the tea cup at his response. “If you go, the bitch’ll tell you to rub your chamber pot slosh all over it, and charge you for your own shit.” He picked up the mug again, a self-satisfied look on his face.
Clink. With one final drink, the observer in the corner placed the cup upon the table. She raised a delicate hand to push away the wild curls from her face, and with a careful tweak of features, demurely snaked her way to the table.
“E-excuse me..”
All three of them stopped. At the corner of the table, opposite where she stood, the youngest of the men spoke up. Barrett, if she had heard correctly. “What is it, girl?” His tone was somewhat a mix of annoyance and mischief. Feinting a glimpse up to him, maintaining her meek expression, the girl noted the way he looked her over.
“I- I don’t m-mean to be rude, but I heard you… heard you talking about that healer.”
Alden was the first to speak up. The portly man, sleeves nearly rolled up to the stains under his arms, turned in his chair to face her. Having the misfortune of standing beside him, his aroma nearly knocked her trained mask off of her face. “What of it, girl? Speak up and stop your stuttering.”
“I kn-know the woman you’re talking about. My mother and I j-just got to town.” Taking a moment to look up and smile at all of them, but not too eagerly. Something shy and nervous. It was important she not look too keenly upon them, at least when they’re aware of her. “Heard that your charlatan woman was here, and… Well, my mother does healing work too. Thought we’d try to d-do some real good in the town. Maybe fix up what that o-other woman does wrong.”
Barrett leaned forward, elbows going wide as he propped himself up on the table to look at her. Brown eyes rising to meet his, she curled her lips upward at him. “How old are you, girl?”
“Sixteen, sir. Will be seventeen in a couple moons, I think if I did my counting right.”
“And your name?”
As he asked this, she could feel Alden glaring daggers into her skull from beside. She paid it little mind, recognizing that the younger man would be more receptive. She bobbed her head politely in his direction. “Honoria, Sir.”
“Well, Honoria, you think your mother’s better than that hag we been hearing about?”
Alden grunted at her side, returning to his mug. From her other side, Selene’s apparent husband spoke up. The girl questioned his loyalty somewhat as he swung an arm out from his seat put it around her, pulling her a stumble closer. Do not break the pleasantries. Do not break the pleasantries. “Well, Honoria- Tell me about your mother, then. She going to look at my wife and tell her to go roll in shit?”
He squeezed her a bit tighter, and then released his hold on her waist with a pat on her side. “Of course not. No self-respecting person would tell a customer to do that.”
But there was that one time…
“I’m telling you, Thomas- Don’t go trusting these women that be coming in here. This one’s probably just trying for your coin. You’re dumber than I thought if you don’t know what she’s trying to pull.” Having finished his mug, Alden scooted his chair back quickly and stood. “I’ll be back at the warehouse after you finish with your little harlot here.”
Wearing a face of hurt offense, she briefly looked up to him and called her attention to the floor. She did not look up as he brusquely shoved past her, no matter how much a venomous rage bubbled under her skin. She had half a mind to go find him later and- No. The girl sighed and looked up to Thomas again after the larger man left. “I’m not trying to pull a fast one, Sir. It’s just that it sounds like she hasn’t been sleeping, and you probably haven’t been either, in any sense of the word.”
He looked down at her hand as she reached for a concern touch of his shoulder. He blinked at her phrasing, before leaning back into his chair. “Hmph- Don’t mind Alden. He’s been in a piss poor mood ever since his woman left him for the Captain.”
She retracted her hand with a nod, still a keen sense of Barrett staring at her from across the table. For a moment she looked away from Thomas, taking note of where his eyes drifted and lingered. Do not falter. Do not falter.
“If you like, Sirs-“ she piped up, deciding it time to let the stutter drop. “I can take you to our wagon. I’m sure my mother has a sort of cream or paste, maybe. For your wife.”
Folding hands in front of her, she carefully watched them as the men share a look. She could tell they would. Thomas would follow, she could tell, because he was desperate for his wife’s touch again. Best she could figure for him to be so handsy. The girl almost felt bad, knowing that anything mixed up and ready at the wagon wouldn’t do a bit of good for the happy couple. Maybe some talc powder mixed up with some oil and pig urine, as was her mother’s favorite. Though as for Barrett, the one probably about ten years her senior, he would come as well. Doubtful he’d buy any tinctures, but- Probably other benefits of him coming if she smiled pretty enough.
For what seemed like hours, the men silently conferred. It was as if the entire bar had stopped humming, only the silence of their consideration echoing in her ears. It wasn’t until the void was broken by the sound of chairs scrapping against uneven floors that she realized they were both standing. She smiled to them, ear to ear to show some modicum of naive excitement for them. As the two paid for their owed afternoon of drinking, she eased her way out of the tavern with both of them in tow.
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“What nice men, Niah? Didn’t you think. They were just the nicest pair.”
The wagon rocked and swayed, the two heavy horses pulling their home far, far away from that city. Thomas was told that the mixture would start working in three days, and she was eager to be gone by the time he wised up to Deeja Dacar’s ignorant charlatanism. Niah sat in the front beside her mother, knees pulled up to her chest as she watched the trees go by at a painfully slow pace. “Yes. Very nice.”
“Mn. I think that one fancied you, you know. You should smile more. Might attract a good fella, if you’re lucky.”
“Maybe.” In the distance, she could see the hint of a manor house rising above the trees. She lifted her head off her knees and let it rest against the back of the wagon, staring at its distant stone spires. She only half listened to her mother’s prattle as she wondered if more ignorantly stupid men lived in it. She wondered if anything more interesting lay beyond that far off treeline.
“Well, in any case, it was good that you found them when you did. I am sure that mixture will fix up that man’s wife just fine. Nothing a little guano won’t cure. By the way, what did you say to him? I normally charge half of what he paid me. You must have told him the wrong price again.”
“I guess I did. I’ll be more mindful next time...”
She closed her eyes, letting the sun dapple her eyelids on the journey, Deeja’s words blending into a dull lullaby of obliviousness. Next time..
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“They say she don’t really know what she’s doing. You’d best be taking Selene somewhere proper if you want to see that rash get treated up good.” The man threw back another quick swig of the barkeep’s questionable concoction, slamming the mug back down to the grimy wooden table. One hand going to perch on his hip, as if he spoke with some certain authority, Alden, as he was called, used the other to point a fat finger at the two other men with him. “The woman just rolls her wagon in here, claiming she can do healing work. Ain’t nothing to it. Charlatan, if you ask me.”
From the corner of the tavern, a young girl held her tea cup in hand with an even gaze towards them. Running a finger around its rim, she frowned when the two of his lackeys nodded in enthusiastic agreement. Poorer men, by the looks of them. She could tell they were laborers by the callouses on their hands and heinous pit stains on their tunics. Likely working at the nearby docks, if she had to guess. Her stare was trained on them, a predatory look in her brown eyes becoming more sharpened the farther their conversation went on.
“I don’t know, Alden. Might be better than nothing, going to her. Selene ain’t really been sleeping it’s been botherin’ her so bad.”
Alden would have none of that. The girl stopped running her finger around the tea cup at his response. “If you go, the bitch’ll tell you to rub your chamber pot slosh all over it, and charge you for your own shit.” He picked up the mug again, a self-satisfied look on his face.
Clink. With one final drink, the observer in the corner placed the cup upon the table. She raised a delicate hand to push away the wild curls from her face, and with a careful tweak of features, demurely snaked her way to the table.
“E-excuse me..”
All three of them stopped. At the corner of the table, opposite where she stood, the youngest of the men spoke up. Barrett, if she had heard correctly. “What is it, girl?” His tone was somewhat a mix of annoyance and mischief. Feinting a glimpse up to him, maintaining her meek expression, the girl noted the way he looked her over.
“I- I don’t m-mean to be rude, but I heard you… heard you talking about that healer.”
Alden was the first to speak up. The portly man, sleeves nearly rolled up to the stains under his arms, turned in his chair to face her. Having the misfortune of standing beside him, his aroma nearly knocked her trained mask off of her face. “What of it, girl? Speak up and stop your stuttering.”
“I kn-know the woman you’re talking about. My mother and I j-just got to town.” Taking a moment to look up and smile at all of them, but not too eagerly. Something shy and nervous. It was important she not look too keenly upon them, at least when they’re aware of her. “Heard that your charlatan woman was here, and… Well, my mother does healing work too. Thought we’d try to d-do some real good in the town. Maybe fix up what that o-other woman does wrong.”
Barrett leaned forward, elbows going wide as he propped himself up on the table to look at her. Brown eyes rising to meet his, she curled her lips upward at him. “How old are you, girl?”
“Sixteen, sir. Will be seventeen in a couple moons, I think if I did my counting right.”
“And your name?”
As he asked this, she could feel Alden glaring daggers into her skull from beside. She paid it little mind, recognizing that the younger man would be more receptive. She bobbed her head politely in his direction. “Honoria, Sir.”
“Well, Honoria, you think your mother’s better than that hag we been hearing about?”
Alden grunted at her side, returning to his mug. From her other side, Selene’s apparent husband spoke up. The girl questioned his loyalty somewhat as he swung an arm out from his seat put it around her, pulling her a stumble closer. Do not break the pleasantries. Do not break the pleasantries. “Well, Honoria- Tell me about your mother, then. She going to look at my wife and tell her to go roll in shit?”
He squeezed her a bit tighter, and then released his hold on her waist with a pat on her side. “Of course not. No self-respecting person would tell a customer to do that.”
But there was that one time…
“I’m telling you, Thomas- Don’t go trusting these women that be coming in here. This one’s probably just trying for your coin. You’re dumber than I thought if you don’t know what she’s trying to pull.” Having finished his mug, Alden scooted his chair back quickly and stood. “I’ll be back at the warehouse after you finish with your little harlot here.”
Wearing a face of hurt offense, she briefly looked up to him and called her attention to the floor. She did not look up as he brusquely shoved past her, no matter how much a venomous rage bubbled under her skin. She had half a mind to go find him later and- No. The girl sighed and looked up to Thomas again after the larger man left. “I’m not trying to pull a fast one, Sir. It’s just that it sounds like she hasn’t been sleeping, and you probably haven’t been either, in any sense of the word.”
He looked down at her hand as she reached for a concern touch of his shoulder. He blinked at her phrasing, before leaning back into his chair. “Hmph- Don’t mind Alden. He’s been in a piss poor mood ever since his woman left him for the Captain.”
She retracted her hand with a nod, still a keen sense of Barrett staring at her from across the table. For a moment she looked away from Thomas, taking note of where his eyes drifted and lingered. Do not falter. Do not falter.
“If you like, Sirs-“ she piped up, deciding it time to let the stutter drop. “I can take you to our wagon. I’m sure my mother has a sort of cream or paste, maybe. For your wife.”
Folding hands in front of her, she carefully watched them as the men share a look. She could tell they would. Thomas would follow, she could tell, because he was desperate for his wife’s touch again. Best she could figure for him to be so handsy. The girl almost felt bad, knowing that anything mixed up and ready at the wagon wouldn’t do a bit of good for the happy couple. Maybe some talc powder mixed up with some oil and pig urine, as was her mother’s favorite. Though as for Barrett, the one probably about ten years her senior, he would come as well. Doubtful he’d buy any tinctures, but- Probably other benefits of him coming if she smiled pretty enough.
For what seemed like hours, the men silently conferred. It was as if the entire bar had stopped humming, only the silence of their consideration echoing in her ears. It wasn’t until the void was broken by the sound of chairs scrapping against uneven floors that she realized they were both standing. She smiled to them, ear to ear to show some modicum of naive excitement for them. As the two paid for their owed afternoon of drinking, she eased her way out of the tavern with both of them in tow.
===================================
“What nice men, Niah? Didn’t you think. They were just the nicest pair.”
The wagon rocked and swayed, the two heavy horses pulling their home far, far away from that city. Thomas was told that the mixture would start working in three days, and she was eager to be gone by the time he wised up to Deeja Dacar’s ignorant charlatanism. Niah sat in the front beside her mother, knees pulled up to her chest as she watched the trees go by at a painfully slow pace. “Yes. Very nice.”
“Mn. I think that one fancied you, you know. You should smile more. Might attract a good fella, if you’re lucky.”
“Maybe.” In the distance, she could see the hint of a manor house rising above the trees. She lifted her head off her knees and let it rest against the back of the wagon, staring at its distant stone spires. She only half listened to her mother’s prattle as she wondered if more ignorantly stupid men lived in it. She wondered if anything more interesting lay beyond that far off treeline.
“Well, in any case, it was good that you found them when you did. I am sure that mixture will fix up that man’s wife just fine. Nothing a little guano won’t cure. By the way, what did you say to him? I normally charge half of what he paid me. You must have told him the wrong price again.”
“I guess I did. I’ll be more mindful next time...”
She closed her eyes, letting the sun dapple her eyelids on the journey, Deeja’s words blending into a dull lullaby of obliviousness. Next time..
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