Poor World by Sherwood Smith

Author:Sherwood Smith [Smith, Sherwood]
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781611380460
Publisher: Book View Cafe
Published: 2011-03-01T16:00:00+00:00

Eight

Shnit.

My first experience of evil. Real evil, not the petty, amoral indifference of Earth, or the small-minded silliness of people like Glotulae of Elchnudaeb, who had taken advantage of a kid inheriting MH in order to carve out a corner just so she could preen as queen.

Shnit liked destroying things and people because he could, and he liked causing pain — and watching it. Once he’d taken a horsewhip to me, hitting me thrice, just because I’d defied him. Probably no one had back talked him for decades — excepting maybe Kessler — but I didn’t know that at the time. All I knew was that one of those strikes had managed to slice through my winter-clothes and cut my skin, which turned infected through neglect.

Remembering that nasty episode is what made me stop by the first cell just inside the door. There I found the brothers who’d been the intended victims. The one lay on the bare ground, the other in the corner. They both looked weary and worn.

The one lying down was shivering despite the warm, still air. The guards had put water in for them. I took off my vest and tore it into strips, using it and the water to clean the mess.

The older brother watched with a kind of bleary bemusement, as if he didn’t believe I was real.

“You don’t want an infection,” I explained.

“D-does it m-matter?” the one mumbled.

“It always matters,” I said.

The older brother nodded slightly. “The wool. The dye. Won’t it hurt him?”

“Not to worry,” I said, grinning. “Made from the wool of a black sheep. I’m that kind of person.” I snarkled.

The fellow was maybe an old teen, or a young man. He gave me a weary smile. “Your name?”

“CJ.”

Having finished what I set out to do, I left my vest for them to use if they wished, and I exited before the messed-up brother could embarrass me with gratitude.

Then, remembering what I’d told Kessler, I walked back to the practice areas and ran out all my feelings on the obstacle course. Having the vest gone did help, just a little; I hoped Kessler wouldn’t question its being missing. He didn’t seem to pay much attention to stuff like clothes. Unlike Alsaes, who loved fancy uniforms and rank markers and suchlike junk.

Just before dusk I retreated up to the wall to sit and think. But as usual I couldn’t think, all I did was worry endlessly about everything that had happened, and why couldn’t I figure a way for us to escape?

Finally I slid off and took the long way back, my feet kicking the dusty barren ground, my eyes on the stars so I could at least escape that place visually. For a short while.

Just as I passed the first building, a storage facility awaiting stage two, a hand closed round my mouth and another around my arms, pinning them to my sides. I gasped, struggling wildly, but of course I hadn’t a hope — those mitts belonged to a grown man, and he was plenty strong.

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