The Schoolhouse

 

Fallon wanted to carry Erthen to the schoolhouse, but the Fae teacher would have none of it. All students were to be treated the same. “It’s only his second day,” Fallon protested to Alithea.

“Do you want to argue or find out what they are feeding Erthen?” Alithea used the same brusque tone she used with warriors who took their bandages off after the pain went away. “I just want to get there and sit down.” Fallon held her hand, noticing that the palm was cool and clammy.

They arrived at a low building nestled behind trees a short walk from the beach. On the far side of the building several large animals stood in a corral. Alithea and Fallon followed the group of children into the building, but the Fae teacher motioned them to stay back along the rear wall of the large room. Alithea slid down the wall and sat on the floor next to Fallon.

The teacher repeated the word “sit” as she gently pressed each child into a sitting position on a raised bench. “What did she say?” Alithea whispered.

Fallon squatted down. “Sit,” Fallon told her.

“What language is that?”

“Fae.”

“If that bitch sticks her finger tendrils in Erthen’s ears –,” Alithea’s whisper was cut off by the teacher, who stood up and wagged her finger at the two of them. Her terse impatience only made Fallon worry more about her condition. A Cawthingi guard – a male – came into the room from an entry on the far side and handed a tray to the Fae teacher. Alithea put her hand on Fallon’s arm to get his attention.

He stood up and spoke in Fae, using the sentence construction of the Listener and the Fae warriors who fought with the Glade. “The queen wants a baseline test so that she can see the effects of the –“, Fallon paused, not knowing what they were giving the kids, “medicine.”

“I was not told,” the Fae teacher said. “Some of the children have been in the program for a few days.”

“We will do the best we can,” Fallon said.

“You speak a mountain dialect. Where did you learn our language?”

Fallon went with his instincts. “Concordat. Bargain before butchery. Far north.”

She was unfamiliar with the name he had made up but bid him to come forward. “What do you propose?”

“What words do you teach?” Fallon asked her, motioning with his hand for Alithea to stay still.

“A hundred common words so they can work together.”

Fallon reached into the tray for one of the white squares. “This helps join their minds?”

“Yes, the queen knows.”

“Not what they give the mining prisoners?” He appeared to set the square back in the tray but deftly palmed it.

She shook her head. “My, no! Those poor souls.”

Fallon had never heard a Fae express sympathy. “You are a teacher, not a warrior.”

She held up her two hands, pointing the fingers to show the stunted tendrils on her forefingers. “I got sick as a child. They had to cut them to save me.”

It improved your character, Fallon thought. “I will test them, note their language and level. Then we will have some firm results at the end of your program.” Not knowing how to write, he said to Alithea in the Fae language, “Doctor?” When she stayed seated on the floor, he repeated the word in their own Jade language. She stood, steadying herself against the wall and he continued, “You can write some?”

“A little,” Alithea replied in a weak voice. “Enough to make it look good.”

Fallon turned to the Fae. He wasn’t sure what the words were, but the teacher had reached behind her and held out a stylus and wooden board with a lump of soft clay on it. Fallon turned to Alithea, who took the board. Seeing the slight tremor in her hands, Fallon motioned to the container of water that the guard had set down. “May I get the doctor some water? She ate something that did not agree with her.”

The teacher poured some water into a clay bowl and handed it to Fallon. Alithea had taken the opportunity to rest, sitting on the far end of the bench, the board with the clay on her lap. She set it next to her and took the bowl, drinking greedily. With her lips she voiced a thank you to Fallon, then picked up the board. “I’ve seen Bebe do this,” she said, flattening the clay into a rectangular flat shape. Picking up the stylus, she looked up at Fallon. “Test away, Mr. language expert.” The touch of humor was an encouraging sign.

Fallon spoke to each of the 14 children, telling Alithea their language. When one little girl spoke the tongue of the Dallesa tribe, he asked, “Sisseku?”

The girl’s eyes lit up with recognition. “Sisseku sail away.”

Fallon glanced at Alithea. “Mellen?” he asked the child.

She shook her head. “Death hole.”

Fallon stole a glance at the Fae teacher, not wanting to extend the conversation with the child and make her suspicious. “When?”

“A moon time.”

“Thank you.”

There was another Dallesa child, but she did not know Sisseku.

“All children of the tribes?” Fallon asked the Fae. “No Fae, other species?”

“Your species is the fastest growing. Ideal labor. Are you done with your tests?”

He nodded. The teacher reached into the tray, then paused to count. She turned to the children and repeated her count. Fallon’s held his breath, fearful that she had noticed him take the medicine square.

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The teacher spoke in crude Cawth to the guard, motioning to the tray and mimicking a count of the children with her finger. The guard took the tray to separate room, then returned. After counting the squares, she was satisfied and began to give them to the children. Fallon interrupted, took the stylus from Alithea, and used it to measure the size of a square. Turning to the teacher, he asked, “Precise dosage is important for the study. Do all the children get the same size medicine?”

“Yes,” the teacher answered, a note of annoyance in her voice.

Fallon turned to Alithea. “Say something, anything that sounds doctory.”

“I don’t know. I’m tired. I don’t want them giving a warrior drug to Erthen. He’s too young.”

Fallon replied, “Yes, thank you doctor. I will ask the teacher.” Turning to the teacher, he said, “The doctor has noted different weights of the children in this age group. She is concerned that the drug might have more effect on smaller children. Could we vary the dosage?”

“No, this is the way we do it. The queen put you up to this?  Do you challenge my methods?” Her eyes narrowed and Fallon worried that she would become suspicious. 

He held up his hand in a gesture of pacification. “I meant only to do what is best for the program. The queen needs workers – compliant workers.” He urged her to continue.

She handed out the medicine squares to the children, then the Cawthingi guard went along the row, offering a bowl of water to each child, then peering in each mouth to make sure they had swallowed the medicine. Fallon turned to the window opening and swallowed the square he had palmed. He knew only one way to see what they were giving the children. Take some himself.

When they were finished, Fallon handed the rest of the water to Alithea. The first bowl of water had improved her color. More water couldn’t hurt.

The teacher began her language lesson, holding up one finger. “One.” She had the children copy her gesture and the word. She did this several times with each count, up until five.

Fallon could feel the effects of the drug, though they were at the bare threshold of his attention. There was a slight tingle in his toes and fingertips. He wanted to curl his claws in soft dirt or grass. Fallon suspected that it might be a small dose of energy. Alithea studied Erthen intently for any alarming reaction, but he followed the counting prompts with the other children.

The teacher turned to the window opening, then swung the wooden gate shut. “Close the window.” She opened the window. “Open the window.” She repeated this several times, urging the students to copy her words. Fallon wished Bebe were here. Perhaps the Jade should introduce this method of instruction. If they ever escaped, he reminded himself.

The teacher walked to a box along the wall and opened the cover. “Open the box.” The children repeated the words. She closed the cover and said, “Close the box.” She repeated this with her eyes and her fist. “Now children, let us go outside. We have lots of toys.”

In single file behind the guard, the children filed out of the schoolroom, then behind the building. In a pile were small shovels and a pile of dirt as high as Fallon. Each child was taught the word for shovel, then the word for dig. In a circle around the dirt pile, the children dug, lifting a shovel of dirt, and releasing the dirt back into the pile. After several times, the children became more coordinated until they acted in unison.

Fallon could sense their unison. He didn’t know if energy enhanced a warrior’s peripheral vision, but it widened the scope of perception. A warrior became more aware of his surroundings after consuming energy. Although the effects of this dose were slight on an adult warrior, Fallon felt sure that the medicine was energy.

“Two piles,” the teacher said, holding up two fingers. “One here,” she pointed to the ground several feet away from the edge of the dirt pile. Walking around the pile, she pointed to a spot opposite the first spot. “One here.”

The guard handed the teacher a larger shovel. The teacher dug into the dirt pile, saying the word “dig” as she did so. Then she turned, using that word and released the dirt onto one of the spots she had pointed out, saying “down” as she did so. One more time. “Dig…turn…down.”

The children again circled the dirt pile and started to dig but ran into each other as they turned to transfer the dirt on their small shovels. Alithea had been leaning against the wall of the but building but Fallon noticed that she was gone. He hoped she was not sick. When the children spoke to each other to sort out their difficulties, Fallon realized that the children had been carefully arranged so that those who knew the same native language were not on the same side of the dirt pile. Quite clever, he thought.

By gestures and that peculiar sense of group awareness that energy gave, the children soon sorted out the sequence of their digging. They giggled when they met in the center and there were just a few shovelfuls of dirt left. The teacher clapped and said, “Good!” She urged the children to copy her. Clap and good, clap and good.

The bellow of an animal and Alithea’s shriek of alarm interrupted the celebration.