The Obligator's Daughter

The Hall of Hearing

'Pet my ensorcelled ape!'

The scraggly woman thrust an equally scraggly monkey under Bem's chin, making her recoil. A rank smell –whether that of woman, animal, or a mixture of the two was unclear - reached Bem's nose.

'Touch,' hissed the woman, standing uncomfortably close to Bem. 'He has magic in him. One touch and you are guaranteed to find love. Only two divvies...touch!'

Bem studied the woman's sallow cheeks and the deep rings about her eyes. The woman was ancient and half-starved; the monkey, clinging desperately to her arm with blackened, chipped claws, closer to three-quarters. Bem looked past the woman, desperately wishing to already be at the Hall of Hearing.

Her destination was a squat, featureless slab of a building. A discouraging wall of smooth-hewn stone blocks framed tall, rectangular bronze doors.

As Bem had expected, the doors were ringed with hopefuls, like the old crone, shuffling inelegantly around the square in front of the hall. Their tattered robes, with the ever-present motifs - swirls of dancing green against a red background - dragged in the dust. Or were they red dancing on green? Bem had never been sure. Right then, she didn't much care. There were too many such sets of robes between her and the hall for her liking, their occupants grabbing and ranting at each passer-by.

'That's quite a promise, but no, thank you. And that's a monkey, not an ape. It has a tail, see?' Bem pointed. The woman turned to study her monkey's hindquarters and she shouldered past holding her breath.

Once she was a few steps away, Bem paused. It was her first time approaching the Hall, and only now thanks to her father insisting she attend to observe a session. Anyone with good sense or lack of purpose would stay away. Of course, she had seen hopefuls before – you could not avoid them in some parts of Berriellum – but she had never before been the object of their interest as they only accosted people entering the Hall. They were not permitted inside, and the practice appeared to be a form of protest against their exclusion.

Pulling her leather satchel higher on her shoulder and affixing what she hoped was a 'no-nonsense' look to her face, Bem set her shoulders back, raised her chin, and moved forward again.

Immediately, another sickly-looking aspirant, lips quivering with palsy, eyes ablaze with zealotry, grabbed Bem's arm. 'Are you ready to meet Jong'el?' he shrieked in her face. Ribbons of spit fluttered in the ragged breath wheezing in and out of his chest. Like most hopefuls, he was red-haired, and barely older than a child.

'Not if I can help it,' Bem shrank back in disgust. Though it filled her with revulsion to touch him, she grabbed his greasy, bony wrist and yanked the claw-like hand from her sleeve. She wiped her own hand on her shift, and strode past.

There was a mass of green and red in front of her. Other would-be attendees: clerks, scribes, jurors, shoved and bustled their way through. It was routine for some, Bem could tell by the practiced way they negotiated the crowd, but not for her. She felt her resolve weaken and uncertainty run through her.

Bem had asked if she might accompany her father to the hall and enjoy the protection that his station offered – a separate, guarded entrance. But, true to form, he had insisted she use the main entrance, muttering something about tribulation and transformation. She watched the other citizens pushing, dodging and scurrying their way through. Keep moving. That seemed to be the way. She would be as a shark, Bem told herself - always swimming or she would drown.

Nearer the Hall, it grew more crowded still. Trying to avoid each hopeful's eye, and grasp, Bem desperately sought an opening, but there were none. She would have to squeeze through. Her skin felt itchy at the thought. Bem pushed a hopeful in the back and slipped in behind him. Another citizen was being mobbed in front of her and she used the distraction to slide past. The stink of unwashed bodies and musty cloth assaulted her nose as she elbowed her way in. Perhaps she would not be noticed if she kept herself small.