I don’t think she cares for a response. I don’t blame her for her rudeness. Aside from having a stranger cast upon her without warning, humans and trolls have a history. No human township would treat her kindly. Indeed, they’d likely kill her. I’m merely grateful I’m not dead.
The door opens, and I’m surprised at the apartment within. I was expecting something coldly constructed, like the rest of the city, but it looks rather . . . homey. A fireplace fits snug against the far wall, and two braziers smolder on either side of a decent-sized main room. They give it light, though little warmth, and the chill of Cagmar burrows into my skin, almost making my teeth chatter. Furs and woven rugs take up much of the floor, and an enormous, overstuffed pillow—to be used as a chair?—sits near the fireplace. On the other side of the room is a tall table and a narrow kitchen with a strange-looking sink, cabinets, and shelves. Everything is a little too large, made for the use of a troll. The room curves in the back, toward the left, to somewhere I can’t see. Past the entrance to the small kitchen, there’s a door on the left and a door on the right, both closed.
“You’ll not have a room to yourself. There isn’t the space.” Unach shuts the door behind her. She sets her shoulder satchel on the table and strides to the far wall. “You’ll sleep on a pallet there.”
Trying not to feel small, I follow her and peek around the corner. A short, mortared hallway ends at a dark space with folding doors, little more than a closet. Within lies a bin of soiled laundry and a washtub.
I glance at the hard floor. I’ve slept on worse. And Unach had mentioned this was temporary. I can handle temporary.
“You’ll contribute to housework and run your own errands,” she continues, kicking a half-spent piece of coal into the fireplace. “And you’ll cook for yourself.”
I nod. I want to ask for water, but Unach is a taut band, ready to snap.
The door on the right—now my left—swings open, and a troll steps through. I guess him to be a few inches over seven feet, and the emerald shade of his skin is a little richer than Unach’s. His dark hair is longer, too, corded and held back with a thick tie. His tusks are shorter and more slender, but his torso is notably wider. He wears clothes made of hide and a woven material I can’t identify, but his arms are bare and, like the others’, notably robust. “Unach, who are you—”
And then he notices me.
He doesn’t react at first. At least, I think he doesn’t. I’m hardly practiced at reading trolls. His eyes have the same topaz sheen as Unach’s, though his take on a darker, more amber hue. They could almost pass as human. His heavy brow furrows. “Who is this?”
“Wayward human who convinced Qequan she’d do well as monster fodder.”
I frown and meet the new troll’s gaze, trying to act resilient. I’m still not used to the way they look, the way they talk, the way they regard me. “Unach is kindly showing me the ropes.”
Unach snorts and folds her arms. “Next time a summons comes to my door, I’m not answering it.” She rubs her head. “She has to stay here until they can accommodate her.”
The male troll looks at her. “Can she not stay in the enclave?”
Enclave? My earlier interaction with the council confirmed that I am not the first human to seek shelter here. How many more live within the city?
“It’s already overrun.” Then, to me, Unach repeats, “Don’t touch anything.” She disappears through the other door, which I presume to be her bedroom. Unsure what to do in her absence, I offer a shallow bow to the other troll.
“I came looking for work,” I explain. “I won’t be a bother. I’m sorry to put you out.”
He seems confused by this admission. “You’d do best to stay out of the way.”
I guess I shouldn’t expect much in the way of friendliness. But I’ll take safety over friendliness any day.
Unach emerges from her room and chucks a blanket at me. Or rather, a badly skinned hide with a few holes where the knife cut too close to the fur. I’m not sure what animal it comes from. “Make up your pallet. It’s late.”
The space allotted to me isn’t long enough for me to stretch out, but I’m in no position to complain. In truth, this is all very dreamlike, as though my mind has not come to terms with being in Cagmar, speaking to trolls. And I’m going to stay here. I notice a slit in the wall just above the short hallway. A window. It’s grown utterly dark outside, so it blends in with the rest of the stone. If I stand on my toes, I can see a few distant stars that don’t belong to any constellation. But surely they aren’t without meaning. Cosmodian belief says that the gods watch us still, but they can communicate only through the night sky. Rich, poor, male, female—it doesn’t matter. The gods made all of us. If only I had a teacher, or a book on the stars, I might be able to sort out what they are telling me now. Until then, I’m grateful for any slice of the sky, however meager.
All I can think to say is “Thank you.” Then I glance between the two rooms. “You two are . . . siblings?”
Unach gives me a disgusted look. “What else would we be?” She heads into her room, closing the door firmly behind her.
Her brother frowns at me. Before I can inquire as to his name, he retires as well, and I’m surrounded by closed doors.
Chewing on my lower lip, I hold out the fur. It’s about five feet long, a little short to cover me. I fold it in half lengthwise and set it against the hard floor in the hallway. Then I search about the fireplace coals. Surprisingly, I find a short stack of quarter logs and pull one free.
Unach’s door opens suddenly, and I wonder if she’d had her ear pressed to it. “What are you doing?” Her peevish tone slices through the room.
I stiffen. “The fire—”
She glares at me.
Trolls must be more adapted to the cold, what with their . . . thickness. I quickly replace the log. Unach scrutinizes me, as if she’s thinking about shoving me through that single, narrow window. I hurry to the fur and lie down, and she retreats once more.
I lie on the hide for some time as the braziers slowly fade. I’m used to camping on hard ground, but this floor makes my bones feel too sharp for my skin, even with the hide. The temperature drops, and the night looms. I roll up in the hide for warmth, but without its barrier, the frigid floor shocks my skin. I now understand the need for rugs.
Unach may not like it, but I grab the end of a small rug and pull it over for a mattress. It blocks out the cold, thankfully, though it does little in the way of cushioning. I could try to relight a brazier—but I fear to bring the wrath of a troll upon me. Fear of something always lurks in my thoughts or crawls beneath my skin. Fear has been my greatest companion since before I can remember. It has kept me alive, fuels me, protects me. In truth, I don’t know what I would do without it.
Fear tells me that Unach is a barely contained bonfire. I’m not yet sure of her brother’s temperament.
And so I lie here, shivering, my knees pulled to my chest, my arms folded tightly together, using my own hair as a pillow.
At least if I don’t sleep, I won’t dream of whatever monsters the council intends for me come morning.