Calia Thellele slips through my mind like overused oil. But I have not uttered that name for seven years. “Lark, Master Qequan.” Lark is the nickname my nursemaid gave me when I was small, claiming I sounded like the bird when I wailed. I have never heard one myself. Larks live by large bodies of water, and none of those exist around here.
His lip quirks. “I do not think I’ve ever been called Master.”
At his side, Ichlad murmurs, “Do not let yourself be charmed by one of them.”
The others seem to echo the displeasure, and I wonder what sort of stories have been told about my people at their bedsides. Are we painted as terrible and vicious, or weak and unseemly?
“Your skills?” Ichlad asks me.
I straighten but remain on my knees. “I can read.”
The troll rolls his eyes, which stuns me. In every human township I’ve been to, I have been admired for my ability to read. It declares my usefulness more than anything else.
Are so many trolls literate as to demean the skill?
“I-I can read missives, books, maps, anything.” I see my father’s study around me and blink it away. “I’m familiar with political strategy. I can clean and cook—”
“Everyone can clean and cook,” the woman snaps. “If you cannot prove yourself useful, you will be taken above.”
I hear what she doesn’t say. Your oath will not work on us twice.
The cool touch of panic crawls over me like lice. “I can also read music. Play the harp”—though I haven’t touched one since before my womanhood—“and I can sing.” A little.
Qequan glances to the others. “We have no need for musicians and librarians, little bird. Do not visit us again. And if you’ve any respect for sacred things, you will never utter that oath to another creature, do you understand me?”
They are casting me out.
They are casting me out.
A hand touches my shoulder, ready to drag me away. I start and turn, noticing four armored trolls behind me, by the large door I must have come through. One still holds the head sack.
No, no, no. If I leave Cagmar . . . there is nowhere else to go. Nowhere else to hide.
Your path will not be straight, but broken and looping, the Cosmodian’s voice whispers in my ear. The prediction I’ve clung to since childhood.
“Please. I’ll do even your filthiest jobs.”
The troll grasps my arm and hauls me to my feet. Qequan’s countenance is hard as stone. He looks away from me. The woman shakes her head. The troll drags me toward the door.
“I’m a fast learner!” I shout. “And I’ve good eyesight! I could scout for you!”
The troll on the far right chuckles. Another troll takes my other arm.
I don’t know how to read this, Calia, her voice whispers.
My father will find me. He will punish me. And then he will use me, as he always did.
Use me.
Use me.
“Wait!” My voice echoes between stone walls. Ichlad startles. Even the guards hesitate.
Qequan’s gaze slides back to me.
“I have one other skill. One you’ve never seen.” My words rush and slide together until they’re almost nonsensical. I can hardly believe I’m uttering them. Never in my life, never, have I willingly shared my secret. Never have I told a soul about my darkness. A few have seen it, felt it for themselves, but fear can always be explained away.
“You try my patience.” Qequan’s voice is a threat.
The guards release me. Rubbing my arm, I say, “It’s a talent unique among my people.” Stars bless that it’s also unique among the trolls. “But it’s a guarded one.”
Qequan raises an eyebrow.
I step away from the guards. “I . . . I ask for as few witnesses as possible.”
The trolls frown at me.
After a breath, Qequan says, “I will not deplete the council.”
I glance to the guards.
“Nor my men.”
I stand tall. Or try to. How would my father turn this to his benefit? He would play on the troll’s pride. “Do you fear a human will harm you, Master Qequan?”
He smirks again. At least he has a sense of humor. Several seconds pass before he dips his head, and the four troll guards move away from me and out the door. It shuts heavily in their wake.
“If you’re wasting our time . . . ,” Ichlad begins.
I hold up my hands in surrender. “I am not. But I do have to demonstrate on someone.”
The second troll from the right, who has been quiet, says, “And what is it you plan to demonstrate?” His tone is mocking, his accent thick.