Post by Merav Malahi de Valentin on Sept 30, 2006 15:36:03 GMT -5
I awoke early to have breakfast with Mother before I left for the city. Yawning, I headed for my washbasin. Stripping down, I splashed my face and body with cold water and brushed my straw hair till it shone. Donning a brown traveling gown, I slipped into a pair of black slippers and headed down to the kitchen.
We had only one servant here, Keren, a Yeshuite girl who refused to work on Saturdays and spent all her extra time praying to Adonai for deliverance. But she did good work on all the other days, so we tolerated her. Keren was the reason I spoke passable Habiru, even though I had not known why she taught it to me before. When I speared in the doorway, Keren was stirring a pot of porridge. She looked up at me. “Boker tov, geveret.” Good morning, my lady.
“Boker or, Keren,” I responded. “Ha’im aruchat boker nigmar?” Is breakfast finished?
“Od chamesh dakot.” Another five minutes. “Ima shelach bashulchan.” Your mother is at the table.
I thanked her and went to sit down. “Good morning, Mother.”
“Good morning, dear,” she said. “Are you all packed?”
“Yes,” I said, sipping a glass of orange juice.
Keren came with two bowls of porridge. She laid them before us and we thanked her. She curtseyed, and then scurried back into the kitchen.
“Where will you begin your search?” asked Mother.
“I will find the Yeshuite quarter,” I said. “A little poking around should do the trick. What was his name, again?”
“Eliezer ben Avraham,” said Mother. “I recall he had a sister, called Root. Maybe you can find her.”
I nodded, stirring my porridge before taking a bite. “Do we have a staff in the City?”
“I’m afraid not,” said Mother, “but you could always hire an adept or two. They are very skilled at many things, including housework.”
I chuckled. “I would rather just have a housekeeper.”
“Then have a housekeeper,” said Mother. “But I don’t want to hear a word about having a cold bed.”
“It’s been cold thus far,” I laughed. “A few more weeks won’t hurt.”
“Suit yourself,” said Mother.
We finished our porridge and rose from the table. I went to the kitchen to kiss Keren goodbye, then donned my black cloak and headed outside to the carriage.
Mother kissed me on both cheeks. “Goodbye, my love,” she said. “And good luck.”
“Goodbye, Mother,” I said, weeping a little. “I will write often.”
“Of course, my child.”
I climbed into the carriage and it began to pull away. The journey passed swiftly and before I knew it I was in the City. Climbing the steps to the old house, I slid the key into the lock and turned the doorknob.
I was greeted by a wave of dust. Coughing, I made my way into the House. It was small, but pleasant. All this House needs is a good cleaning, I thought. Maybe I will hire someone after all.
We had only one servant here, Keren, a Yeshuite girl who refused to work on Saturdays and spent all her extra time praying to Adonai for deliverance. But she did good work on all the other days, so we tolerated her. Keren was the reason I spoke passable Habiru, even though I had not known why she taught it to me before. When I speared in the doorway, Keren was stirring a pot of porridge. She looked up at me. “Boker tov, geveret.” Good morning, my lady.
“Boker or, Keren,” I responded. “Ha’im aruchat boker nigmar?” Is breakfast finished?
“Od chamesh dakot.” Another five minutes. “Ima shelach bashulchan.” Your mother is at the table.
I thanked her and went to sit down. “Good morning, Mother.”
“Good morning, dear,” she said. “Are you all packed?”
“Yes,” I said, sipping a glass of orange juice.
Keren came with two bowls of porridge. She laid them before us and we thanked her. She curtseyed, and then scurried back into the kitchen.
“Where will you begin your search?” asked Mother.
“I will find the Yeshuite quarter,” I said. “A little poking around should do the trick. What was his name, again?”
“Eliezer ben Avraham,” said Mother. “I recall he had a sister, called Root. Maybe you can find her.”
I nodded, stirring my porridge before taking a bite. “Do we have a staff in the City?”
“I’m afraid not,” said Mother, “but you could always hire an adept or two. They are very skilled at many things, including housework.”
I chuckled. “I would rather just have a housekeeper.”
“Then have a housekeeper,” said Mother. “But I don’t want to hear a word about having a cold bed.”
“It’s been cold thus far,” I laughed. “A few more weeks won’t hurt.”
“Suit yourself,” said Mother.
We finished our porridge and rose from the table. I went to the kitchen to kiss Keren goodbye, then donned my black cloak and headed outside to the carriage.
Mother kissed me on both cheeks. “Goodbye, my love,” she said. “And good luck.”
“Goodbye, Mother,” I said, weeping a little. “I will write often.”
“Of course, my child.”
I climbed into the carriage and it began to pull away. The journey passed swiftly and before I knew it I was in the City. Climbing the steps to the old house, I slid the key into the lock and turned the doorknob.
I was greeted by a wave of dust. Coughing, I made my way into the House. It was small, but pleasant. All this House needs is a good cleaning, I thought. Maybe I will hire someone after all.