Drone

9 The Esthetic Operator.

Niklas spent several days with the Sommerfeldts. He slept most of the time on the cot as his fever died down. As the heat finally dissipated, his body ached horribly. While awake, he spent his time in the small apartment. He tried his best to learn anything he could from inside, where he was safe from the Relrin Mothers, who seemed to always be outside in the compound courtyard.

He asked fewer questions, deciding to learn by observation. Anything he said to the Sommerfeldts either offended them or left them confused. He wasn't trying to be rude. They just seemed to have different expectations when it came to conversation.

He quickly learned that he couldn't live under the same roof as Lill and her family without at least a little interaction with her. So he kept his dealings with her to a minimum, answering questions with as few words as possible and never looking at her directly if he could avoid it. That ended up being more daunting than he thought it would be. He always felt an unwelcome tension when he knew she was around.

Niklas tried his best to help around the house but could tell he weighed heavily on the generosity of a rankless slave unit. He suspected they weren't getting extra rations for him but were dividing their portions to accommodate him. He finally decided he needed to get away and find out what he could about getting his mark removed.

Niklas found Ivar sitting on a broken stool in the kitchen, chewing a chewing stick idly, probably lost in some mischievous thought. "Ivar," he asked the wiry, slouched man.

Ivar raised a sharp eyebrow at Niklas in response.

"Where can I find an esthetic operator?"

Ivar laughed a strange snort-laugh. "I only know of one in all Soutfel. That would be Dr. Geoffrey. What, you realized you're too ugly?"

Niklas rolled his eyes as such comments were common from Ivar. He seemed to be trying to compete with Niklas' frankness. "Where do I find him?"

"Town," he said simply, as though that clarified anything whatsoever.

"Do you think you can take me?"

Ivar laughed – a real laugh this time. "No, I can't, devil boy. I'm leaving with the herdsmen this morning, and besides, there's no way you could afford Dr. Geoffrey."

Niklas suppressed a growl and rubbed his temple as his present headache reminded him that it was there. Maybe he could ask Tord. Ivar explained that Tord was Lill's husband. Husband wasn't a word that Niklas was familiar with. If Tord wouldn't help Niklas find an Esthetic Artificer, maybe Frode would.

Ivar, seemingly sensing Niklas' thoughts, cut in. "The other guys are also busy. Why don't you get over yourself and ask Lill to take you? She's going into town soon."

Niklas paled at the idea, and Ivar saw it.

"I don't get you, devil boy. It's not like she's going to bite. Why are you so scared of her?"

"I'm not scared!" Niklas snapped.

Ivar raised his sharp eyebrow again as though to say Niklas' response confirmed his suspicion.

"I just...want to be respectful," Niklas explained, but inwardly, he knew he shied away from her as if she was glowing iron.

"Right..." Ivar said doubtfully. "I don't know about your demon woods, but here, avoiding people is weird and rude. It's not respectful."

Niklas restrained a retort, Ivar had a point. Lill seemed increasingly irritated at Niklas' behavior. Whenever he scampered to the other room as she entered, she looked angry, not flattered.