The Tale of 2369- Part Two- The Kitchen

NOTE: This story is based on the world and characters created by CameoAmalthea. Shriryah is a land ruled by nagas who keep humans as slaves. The humans are divded into three groups: The Shauhy- educated, talented, and gifted, they are kept for the pleasure of their naga; the Servae- workers and servants, and assistants to naga artisans; and the Hyshi- kept like cattle until 18, when they are sold for food.

More information, stories and art of the Nagas of Shriryah may be be found at these sites:

DeviantArt: http://yaoi.y-gallery.net/club/5806/
Y!Gallery: http://yaoi.y-gallery.net/club/5806/

My thanks to CameoAmalthea for creating this world, for her help in providing background and suggestions for this story, and her permission to use it.

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The Tale of 2369

The Kitchen


Finally the cart reached a high stone wall, decorated with carvings of nagas and elaborate designs. It turned in at a small wooden gate, into a yard beside an edifice of white stone. The stone looked wet. 2369 was awed by the sheer beauty of the polished walls, so unlike the rough, plain boards of the shelters he had inhabited. There were balconies and terraces, overlooking trees and shrubs of stunning variety, and flowers that filled the air with a sweetness he had never known. Some of the windows had a strange clear substance in them that reflected light like still water, others were open, but fine cloth swayed in them. 2369 nearly swooned.

"Come on, get down," the Servae ordered. "Follow me. Be careful- watch where you're going!" He didn't want to bring this one so far to have him damaged by his own clumsiness. The Young Master was fickle, and the Servae himself might take the Hyshi's place if he were displeased!

2369 hobbled behind toward a small door on a chimneyed outbuilding. A haze of wood smoke stung his eyes. The smoke was mixed with other aromas that made him realize how hungry he was. They entered a hot, noisy room, bustling with Servae among racks of shiny pots and strange utensils, shelves piled high with boxes and bins, crocks and sacks, piles of vegetables and bright fruit in baskets. It was a place of food, 2369 thought. I belong here because I am food. His skin prickled.

A balding, heavy-set naga wearing a soiled apron appeared. "About time," he muttered.

The Clean Servae smiled and bowed. "I deliver your main course, O Master of the Kitchen."

The naga laughed at that and said, "All right, Firenco. I'll take care of this. Come by tonight- there should be some wine left after dinner. Unshackle him before you leave."

The Cook turned and called, "Brancio! Nussum! Come here!" Two Servae hurried over from the sinks, wiping their sudsy hands on their aprons. "Take him to the big tub and wash him. Shave his face, crotch and armpits, but just wash his head good. My Lord Atayutu likes the hair on 'em."

The cook looked down at the loincloth. "Get rid of that filthy rag! Throw it in the fire. And not the yellow soap, you fool! My Good Lord would NOT like that taste on his dinner! Get the good stuff. Put some hot water in there, make a good job of it, and rinse him off. Dry him and use one of the clean linen towels for a garment."

As the two hustled him off to be washed, the Cook called to a young female Servae who was preparing fruit. "Make a fancy necklace of whatever blue flowers we have outside. It will make a nice garnish."

2369 had never known a hot water bath. At first he was frightened, thinking he was to be boiled into soup, but the two men worked conscientiously on him, despite his being a Hyshi and they Servae. Their job was food preparation after all, and in a naga household that meant Hyshi from time to time. The soap smelled like sweet morning clover. One shaved him, with surprising gentleness. (It would not do to cut His Lordship's dinner!) He was toweled off, and his hair rubbed until it was only damp. 2369 saw himself in a mirror nearby; with a shock he realized that was his image. He was a lithe teen, his hair a damp tangle. His body was tanned except for a pale band around his waist. He liked what he saw, and wished again his fellows could see him- then came again the pang.

The Cook inspected him, then asked, "Did you clean him out, too?" The men gasped, and the Cook glared at them. "How many times have you cleaned a Hyshi? 'Do a good job of it' I said, and that means make sure he's empty! And if you screw this up..." He left the threat unsaid. In a naga household, there was one supreme threat, and it was easily carried out.

2369 jerked as the enema was administered. He was unprepared for the inrush of warm water, the sickening feeling, and the explosive discharges that cleaned him out. Again and again he squatted over the wooden bucket while the sober assistants watched in the outhouse adjacent to the kitchen. After an interminable number of douchings, he felt weak and wobbly, but the two men cleaned him off again, applying a clean linen towel as a loincloth. It was softer and finer than anything 2369 had ever felt. If this is all that happened, he thought, I would like to be a naga's dinner every day!

The girl came up with a necklace of blue flowers, elaborately woven, with tiny white flowers mixed in. The Cook approved. "Orange blossoms! A good choice, Netelli." He scowled at the two men. "You are the best assistant I've ever had!" 2369 inhaled deeply of the exotic scent.

There was a commotion outside and a young naga entered. "Hello, Father! I'm back from the market." Without being told, several Servae went out and began bringing in sacks, baskets and boxes. The Cook took a sheaf of papers from his son and riffled through them.

"I'll get these to the Steward after I've checked them myself... wait! Didn't you get any bread?"

The young naga shook his head. "The baker was ill and didn't work last night. His chief Servae was there selling mostly sweets and pastries they already had. His Master should be back at work tonight." He lowered his voice. "I think he was suffering from ale fever!"

The Cook laughed and shook his head. "That floury fellow had better be careful or he'll loose his stall- and his tail!"

"Please, Father- can you spare a poor naga a bite to eat? The market was crowded and I couldn't get anything there without being later than I already am. I left this morning without breakfast, and I couldn't even get a roll at the baker's." He eyed the flower-decked Hyshi. "I doubt he's available!"

"Yesterday's bread and cold sausage will do for you, my good lad! That is specially prepared for Master Ati, and you had better not even take a lick of that treat!"

The young Netteli seemed to shiver at the counter where she had returned to the fruit. She turned and said, "Sir! The Hyshi... if Mr. Firenco picked him up early at the farm.. well... " She let her words trail off with a plaintive look at the Cook.

2369 was shocked at the girl's boldness, not just in suggesting that a Hyshi might be hungry, but in committing the terrible crime of addressing a naga unbidden. He waited for the punishment that must come.

But the Cook merely nodded. "You are right, Netelli. I almost forgot the basic rule of my kitchen- no one leaves here hungry! Not even the food. Give him some bread and fruit. And a mug of milk."

"And don't forget me, Netelli," called the son. "I am promised old bread and cold meat!"

She laughed and turned to providing two plates. 2369 could not know the respect a hard-working naga had for an able Servae doing the same work, and the easy banter and chaffing between man and naga was distressing to him. He had never seen the like at the farm. He stood there, stunned, as the girl came back with a plate and mug for him. "Sit down here," indicating a battered chair at a table in the corner. She pushed aside a pile of books and scrolls for him.

Moving as if in a trance, he sat and looked at the plate. It was shiny, smooth, and perfectly round, a deep blue with white figures ringing the outer edge. There was a piece of white bread with a golden crust, and strange fruits, unlike any he had ever seen. He picked up the mug, made of the same material and colored like the plate. He sniffed the white liquid within. He knew the term "milk" and had heard it spoken of. He knew very young Hyshi drank it, because the overseers had discussed weaning them from it. He sipped cautiously, and his eyes went wide. "This is what little ones drink?" he thought. "Why would they not want it?" He took a gulp; it thrilled his throat. He put the cup down with a trembling hand.

Netelli saw the tremble. "I guess he's got good reason to be afraid. Even a Hyshi might not want to be..." She could not finish the thought. She looked at him. He was not handsome, even at his age, but he was far from plain, with a rounded face and full lips. Like most Hyshi she had seen, he was small, though he looked younger than most. His tanned body was lean and smoothly muscled. His dark hair, still damp, was a tousled mass of waves reaching almost to his shoulders.

He picked up a strawberry. His reaction was odd, almost agitated, as he ate. She knew little of his class, though they were not uncommon in the kitchen. She could not recall so much fuss over just one, but he was called a special treat for the youngest son. "Terribly spoiled, but pleasant enough," she thought. She had often seen Ati in the gardens with Samirama, his Shauhy, usually hugging each other or laughing at some deep secret. He had even smiled at her once, when she was gathering flowers for garnishes, and told his Samirama to get some of the spicy red blossoms from her. She wondered what they did with them, since they were more for flavoring than useful as bouquets.

2369 had nearly finished. Hungry as he was, he refrained from gobbling the food, as they did on the farm, but lingered over the amazing flavors of the bread and sweet fruit and smooth milk. He had never tasted anything like them. He almost smiled, until he realized that he would never taste anything at all again- even the coarse bread and pale gruel of the farm.

Netelli took the plate and mug, and with her free hand, stroked his damp hair away from his forehead. He looked up, startled, his mouth agape, but said nothing. "Don't they teach you to say, 'Thank you'?" she asked.

He flinched, and stammered, "Thank you," in a soft light voice. "That was very good." These people expected him to speak without prompting, he thought.

Before he could say anything else, she turned quickly and took the dishes to the sinks, handing them to Nussum, who had been watching the whole time, his jaw agape. He was about to say something about her interest in the Hyshi when the Cook returned with two of the Steward's Servae. Firenco followed, wearing an elegant red cloak over his cream-colored uniform.One of the Servae carried two small brown objects. He pointed to the still sitting Hyshi and said brusquely,"Lift your feet!" He bent over and put two soft leather shoes on 2369's feet. He tied the strings tightly, pulling them quickly as if to finish the unpleasant task as soon as he could.

The Cook turned to Firenco and said, "He's ready... Oh!" He looked at the milk and berry juice on 2369's lips."Netelli! Before he goes up, wipe his mouth and clean his teeth with a small towel. Give him some mint leaves to chew. I'll send up the best-prepared Hyshi ever to come from my kitchen!"

Reluctantly, she took the youth to a sink. She wiped his mouth and lips, then told him to open his mouth. She gently used an edge of the soft cloth to wipe down his teeth and remove traces of the fruit. She tried to avoid his eyes, which were such a dark brown they looked almost black. She gave him the mint leaves and told him to chew it a dozen times then spit it out into a nearby barrel full of food scraps. She left him and went out, not wanting to see him or touch him again.

The two Servae motioned for the Hyshi to follow, but the Cook stopped them. "Firenco- there are two more items to go with him." He picked up a small covered pot. "This is a special sauce. Ati asked for it. And this-" he opened a cupboard and took out a bottle of wine- "will compliment the sauce and meal nicely." He put them in a basket and handed them to the Steward's Assistant.

"I hope this is not the wine you mentioned earlier, " he whispered, out of earshot of the two waiting Servae. The Cook winked, then waved him off. "Ati is waiting, I'm sure."

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