Waiting; Darwin; Quota

originally posted March 13, 2007

"If you would take the blonde one and Nirah out one of the eastern gates, that would free up a good part of my day," I asked of Darwin this morning.
"I will find them there, then?" he asked.
"That is usually where I fetch them, yes," I answered him.
There are brak bushes out that way. I do not know if it is the shadow of the red Voltai or the ferrous soil that let's that nasty shrubbery thrive there, but thrive it does. It is not until the end of this hand that I will need the branches, but I will need them for two domiciles. It seems like only a few hands since the doors and eaves were repainted, Samsara in vibrant green and the Boarding House in scandalous red, but they both will be pitched and washed white again.
"I don't know that I will be around much the next few days," I mentioned to the former Cloth Worker of Tabor.
"Between the sleen and the Warrior, I think your business is in good hands," he mentioned.
"You are hardly the wretch that you once were in the dungeons of Thentis," I noted.
"I suppose that is true. My thanks," he said with a smile.
An easy sort of smile that comes only from confidence, from rightness with nature, from oneness with self.
"You stood well in the Valley of Saleria," I told him. "I have not forgotten that."
When the Caravan of the Merchant Vesutto of Venna was attacked, bandit tarnsmen from Treve bringing bolt and flame onto the wagons and tents under the modest glow of the Prison Moon, the wretch from the sub-levels of the House of Clark, a slave that was freed by my request, comported himself with pride. With dignity. Under the tutelage of Mathor of Ar, he was no longer the craftsman who had his family home sacked and pillaged by pirates on some Genesian Coast island. He was not the thrall too weak to draw the oar of a galley, nor the miserable simp in the dank and moldy underworld, penned in a Thentian cell. He did his part to secure my property, defend the perimeter of our camp and, in general, fulfill the duties prescribed to him. He does so to this day. He seems happy now, or as happy as a fellow might be when one is as far from home as he is, but he has made it work. I know, for example, from friends of mine, that he frequents the taverns in the Garment District, sharing cups with fellows of his caste. I do not regret impressing the favor of the good will I'd earned in Thentis to loosen the shackles on his wrists. Every man stumbles. Some stumble harder and fall farther than others. They all deserve an opportunity to reconcile themselves, to recall what they once were and aspire to be once again. Darwin is no exception.
"Have them wear the rep-cloth camisks," I said as an aside.
There was no sense ruining the silk.
"Of course," he nodded.
"Starting tonight," I added, "I am going to keep them on the street an extra two ahn. Up their quotas by five tarsks."
He seemed surprised by the decision, but merely nodded. He is a nice fellow. I am a bit more pragmatic than he might be, but that pragmatism, after all, pays his salary.
"They won't be earning at the beginning of next hand," I reminded him.
He smiled, understanding, then, the need for them to ramp up their productivity in the short term.
"I will let them know," he said.