Inkblots: A Tale of Magic, Adventure, and Romance

II. The Reading

Alia rose early from habit the next morning, sitting up in her small chamber when dim light had just started to spill through the bubbly, warped glass of her tiny window. It was her free day, and she could have gone back to sleep, but the possibilities were calling her.

Instead, she rubbed her face and mussed her hair and jumped out of bed with more energy than her short sleep should have warranted. She splashed cold water from the basin onto her face, wriggling at the chill of it, and reached in the chest for her other dress. This one was far preferable to the dress she wore on work days--the overdress was soft grey wool and the matching shift was embroidered with pretty little blue flowers. With the laces pulled tightly around her slim curves, Alia reached for her tangled braid and worked it expertly into a loose bun.

An outsider might have wondered why she was rushing, but the few maids and scullery girls who were out and about were familiar with the routine. Once every fiveday, when Alia had her free day, the slim girl sprang from the dark confines of her room like she was undertaking a grand adventure. But she didn't charge off to slay wyrms or explore the limits of civilization; instead, like clockwork, the girl made her way to the Scribes' garden with a scone or hotcake, and lounged there watching the sunrise in perfect content.

Normally, she would head from there to one of the classes she was allowed to attend. This morning, it ought to have been the ancient history lecture, where they examined the old stories from the Book and other accounts to glean the details of common life, but today everything was cancelled for the Reading.

The Reading. Alia's heart swelled in excitement at the thought of a new story. Her nerves twitched at the thought of the large ceremony, but certainly she'd be just another face in the crowd. And then this evening, perhaps, maybe tomorrow, she'd make her way into the inner chamber and read the Book. She could practically feel the velvety parchment under her fingers now.

Too excited to hold still, the slender girl sprang up from the low wall she perched on and brushed crumbs quickly from her skirt. She passed through the doors of the kitchen, blinking at the sudden transition from peaceful birdsong to raucous noise, but danced through the cooks and helpers with a grace that spoke of familiarity. At last, her mother's familiar figure appeared in a quiet corner, rolling out paper thin pastry dough.

"Hi, Li," the older woman said with a joyful smile. "Don't see you down here much."

"But I miss it," said Alia mischievously.

Her mother stopped rolling for a moment. "Do you?"

"No," she said laughing, "but I do miss you. How can I help?"

"Hah, I thought so. You'd better not, dear, we don't want to get your nice dress dirty."

Alia looked down with a surprised expression, having clearly forgotten what she had on.

"What are you up to today, little dove?"

The younger girl watched her mother's fingers for a moment, as they skillfully cut and pinched the dough into little bowls at a speed almost too quick to follow. "I'm not sure. Without class, I have two hours until the reading."

The pastries tucked into a giant oven that radiated heat, her mother turned to her with a smile. "Surely you could find a few friends who are also trying to kill the time, instead of just your old, tired mother."

Alia leaned in and kissed her pertly on the cheek. "Hush, Mami."

She'd opened her mouth to say something else, but at the next station over, a mean-faced woman was loudly saying, "Of course Merle's little indiscretion thinks she's too good to be seen doing anything in here anymore." Alia's faced pinched in anger, but when her mother's sank in sadness, she lost the fierce anger, and put a hand on the older woman's arm.