Summer 48, 514 AV
Estrellir didn’t mind the mess that tended to clatter her desk at any time of the season. Sometimes, however, chaos threatened to triumph over order. When her personal system started to fail, it was time to clean up. Such days of organization happened once or twice a season, mainly because that particular Konrath detested cleaning up.
Mell helped her as it was really work for slaves, but Estrellir needed to judge which notes were important and which would be destroyed later. She was standing at the desk working through the parchment piles that had formed, labeling them as important or trash before handing them to the slave girl at her side. Mell collected them in two stacks, one in the nearest armchair and one in the kitchen next to the stove as burning material. The one in the kitchen was growing faster.
Estrellir sighed and paused for a moment to tie her white locks into a high ponytail. Already a thin layer of sweat was forming on her forehead, although the sun was still rising! Cleaning up took almost as much effort as field investigation, but it lacked the thrill that made her forget the exhaustion.
“Should I brew some coffee, mistress?” Mell’s voice, although timid, broke the silence like a scream. To Estrellir, it sounded like a call to discipline. The girl could be implicating a lot of things… that the stack in the kitchen took up too much space, that she needed a break or that her mistress looked exhausted.
“No. We’ll finish this, then have coffee and snacks before organizing the important stack.” Mell nodded as the Konti continued browsing through the loose sheets. Most were scribbled notes to herself, thoughts and ideas with question marks, reminders to investigate this detail, interrogate that person, look up things in certain books. Near the bottom she found a sheet covered in illegible letters, neither Common nor Kontinese. Squinting, she suddenly remembered.
At the beginning of the season Estrellir had tried to devise a system of codes in order to encrypt her notes and reports. They included sensitive information, after all. Should the Rujaro or really anyone else get ideas to search her little bureau, they’d find a hidden treasure. Her case reports would do too much damage in enemy hands. After several bells of trying, visitors had distracted her though.
Lips curled in amusement, Estrellir tossed the sheet at Mell. “Trash.” She’d have to get a better grasp on the theory of encryption before putting it into practice anyway. Even so, devising a new system would probably take a good deal of trial and error. She’d have to rely on other systems for a start. It all came down to time she didn’t have.
The slave girl wandered off to prepare coffee and a sandwich while her pale webbed fingers sorted through the last sheets. Nothing of interest. Yawning, Estrellir dumped them on the stack in the kitchen. Back in the office, she stretched and fell into her chair. Whimsy was curled up in the shelf between a book on the history of Kenashian Dynasties and an empty metal bowl. The tiger-striped cat opened an eye to look at her. Her gaze seemed to express her disdain for the big people’s activities.
Estrellir shrugged at her. “Can’t help it. It’s a necessary evil, you see.” Just as the echo of her voice died and she listened to Mell handling dishes in the kitchen, a knock on the door disturbed her earned break. With another sigh, Estrellir straightened in her chair and waited for the visitor to enter.
Estrellir didn’t mind the mess that tended to clatter her desk at any time of the season. Sometimes, however, chaos threatened to triumph over order. When her personal system started to fail, it was time to clean up. Such days of organization happened once or twice a season, mainly because that particular Konrath detested cleaning up.
Mell helped her as it was really work for slaves, but Estrellir needed to judge which notes were important and which would be destroyed later. She was standing at the desk working through the parchment piles that had formed, labeling them as important or trash before handing them to the slave girl at her side. Mell collected them in two stacks, one in the nearest armchair and one in the kitchen next to the stove as burning material. The one in the kitchen was growing faster.
Estrellir sighed and paused for a moment to tie her white locks into a high ponytail. Already a thin layer of sweat was forming on her forehead, although the sun was still rising! Cleaning up took almost as much effort as field investigation, but it lacked the thrill that made her forget the exhaustion.
“Should I brew some coffee, mistress?” Mell’s voice, although timid, broke the silence like a scream. To Estrellir, it sounded like a call to discipline. The girl could be implicating a lot of things… that the stack in the kitchen took up too much space, that she needed a break or that her mistress looked exhausted.
“No. We’ll finish this, then have coffee and snacks before organizing the important stack.” Mell nodded as the Konti continued browsing through the loose sheets. Most were scribbled notes to herself, thoughts and ideas with question marks, reminders to investigate this detail, interrogate that person, look up things in certain books. Near the bottom she found a sheet covered in illegible letters, neither Common nor Kontinese. Squinting, she suddenly remembered.
At the beginning of the season Estrellir had tried to devise a system of codes in order to encrypt her notes and reports. They included sensitive information, after all. Should the Rujaro or really anyone else get ideas to search her little bureau, they’d find a hidden treasure. Her case reports would do too much damage in enemy hands. After several bells of trying, visitors had distracted her though.
Lips curled in amusement, Estrellir tossed the sheet at Mell. “Trash.” She’d have to get a better grasp on the theory of encryption before putting it into practice anyway. Even so, devising a new system would probably take a good deal of trial and error. She’d have to rely on other systems for a start. It all came down to time she didn’t have.
The slave girl wandered off to prepare coffee and a sandwich while her pale webbed fingers sorted through the last sheets. Nothing of interest. Yawning, Estrellir dumped them on the stack in the kitchen. Back in the office, she stretched and fell into her chair. Whimsy was curled up in the shelf between a book on the history of Kenashian Dynasties and an empty metal bowl. The tiger-striped cat opened an eye to look at her. Her gaze seemed to express her disdain for the big people’s activities.
Estrellir shrugged at her. “Can’t help it. It’s a necessary evil, you see.” Just as the echo of her voice died and she listened to Mell handling dishes in the kitchen, a knock on the door disturbed her earned break. With another sigh, Estrellir straightened in her chair and waited for the visitor to enter.
Boxcode by Lenz