Chapter 13:
It was well past dawn by the time Valencio woke. There was sunshine, but a weak, watery sunshine, not the merciless blast of Morocco that he’d become accustomed to. Still, it was sunshine. He pulled on numbered shorts and shirt, didn’t give a thought to shoes and socks, and stepped out of the partially furnished cottage. Tasha still slept soundly. She, too, had had far too much to drink the previous night.
Again there was a swarm of Freign, both men and women, most of them working on new units that were being noisily trucked in. There were occasional reminders to each other that ‘the medj’ were still sleeping, but it was obvious that the work could not be silent. Valencio leaned against a wall for a moment, watching, and decided that he needed something to eat before seeing what he could do to help, or climbing the mountain that beckoned, or walking the ten miles to Bogridge, that he now knew to be the nearest town. The loch looked different, the water now blue and glinting in the sunshine. He smiled broadly. What place could be more wonderful than this? He’d dreamed about this place, he thought, years ago, when he’d so much needed an escape.
In the dining room, he was amiably greeted the moment he appeared, one of the same caterers from the previous night, a woman in perfectly ordinary clothing. There was no-one else there. He looked at the servery, and she said, “You just take a plate or bowl and help yourself.”
Valencio thanked her. What a wonderful, glorious day! He was free! Toast! He hadn’t eaten ordinary toast for so long.
He looked doubtfully at a lumpy grey substance, and the woman said, “Porridge.”
Valencio wanted to ask if it was edible, but instead tried to be more polite, and only asked how it was taken.
“With hot milk and sugar, mostly,” said the woman, and she doled out a bowl of porridge.
She asked kindly, “Would you like me to take the numbers off your clothes?”
Valencio flushed, and said, “Yes, please.”
He’d forgotten the numbers, and in any case, his warm clothes, both his own and the borrowed ones, were wet and muddy. A wave of the wand, and the numbers were gone. He beamed at the woman, who said, “My name’s Sarah. I’m one of the catering team, but we’re only temporary, and we’re to be replaced by a medj catering team as soon as we no longer need to use magic.”
Valencio introduced himself, and then asked, “Do you know if there’s someplace to wash clothes?”
“I’m not sure if it’s ready yet, but there’s a drying room just near the side entrance, and with a big sign. There’s also a lot of new clothing just waiting to be claimed. Shoes, too,” and she looked disapprovingly at his bare feet, noticing dressings on the heels. “Joyce said she’d organize a First Aid room, as well.”
“Good. I’ll be able to fix my feet.”
Three giggling girls made their appearance next, and Sarah saw that they, too, wore numbered shorts and shirts, no shoes, but at least there were not the signs of recent wrist cuffs or manacles. Again she promoted the porridge, but this time, it was rejected in favor of toast, in spite of Valencio saying it tasted a lot better than it looked.
Evita asked Valencio, “Have you seen Michael yet?”
Valencio said that he hadn’t. Inge giggled, “He’s got a terrible black eye.”
The girls were all giggling now, but it was the first real day of freedom, and maybe they deserved to be a little mad. He felt a little light-headed himself. He asked, “Where are you sleeping?”
The girls glanced at each other and Brigitta said, “We’ve got bedrooms in the castle, and Hilde’s next to us, I guess to look after us.”
Evita said toughly, “We’re not children. We can look after ourselves!”
“I’m jealous. I thought Hilde only looked after me these days.”
“You and Tasha have one of the cottages, don’t you?”
The conversation turned to accommodation, and tracks up a mountain, and where one could wash clothes.
Ingrid and Treen came in and joined Valencio, who lingered over his coffee. Ingrid asked Valencio, “Have you seen Michael yet?”
This time, Valencio put down his coffee and regarded them suspiciously, before staring at the ceiling and suddenly exclaiming, “Shit! I hit him, didn’t I?”
The five young ones were all laughing as he strode out the door.
Valencio hesitated as he approached the area where the wizards were working so hard. Would he be punished? They were supposed to be free, of course. And why had he punched Michael? He’d really rather keep right away from the wizards.
Connie joined him. “You’ll have to apologize.”
“Did you see it, Connie? Did I have a reason for hitting him?”
“He tried to point you the right way to your cottage. But you apparently didn’t want to be helped.”
Valencio sighed. “Totally in the wrong then. I’ll go apologize.”
He took a deep breath, walked rapidly towards Michael, but stopped dead as Michael went for his wand. Stiffly, Valencio said, “I came to apologize. I should not have hit you.”
Michael did indeed, have a black eye. He quickly re-pocketed his wand, and said, “Perfectly understandable that you might be a bit jumpy. Next time you drink too much, I’ll know to keep away.”
Valencio gave a rueful smile. “I’ve never been drunk before. I thought some bloody wizard had put a Twilight Spell on me or something.”
Michael said calmly, “If you want to help, the ballroom’s still in a mess. You could start cleaning that up while we work on the units.”
Valencio nodded. The ballroom. And the wizards far too busy to wave a wand and have it instantly clean. He smiled suddenly, brilliantly, to the surprise of Michael. They’d have to get used to this, doing without magic. Washing their own clothes, doing their own housework. No bloody wizards. No bloody magic. He could get used to that, all right!
He turned back to the castle, but was grabbed by another of the helpers, this one called Therese, middle-aged and with a scar deeply etched across her face. “The boss is sending furniture by the truckload, and we need to get it distributed. Will you help?”
Valencio hesitated, “I was sent to clean the ballroom.”
“That’s done. I need you now.”
For the rest of the morning, Valencio and nearly all the other medj worked to distribute furniture that arrived, the same furniture they’d used in the enclosures. There were also sheets, mattresses, pillows, more clothing, though all prominently numbered, cutlery, crockery, Belinda’s piano, though Therese said she’d move that with magic, even Valencio’s games machine.
Halfway through, another of the freia found Valencio, told him to show her his feet, and dabbed some lotion on, then took him to another room, handed him a pair of jeans, and told him to try them on. Valencio, completely naturally, dropped his shorts, and pulled on the jeans.
Joyce laughed, “Maybe I should mention that men are not actually supposed to undress in front of women.”
Valencio said simply, “I forgot.”
“I didn’t realize. Do any of you have underpants?”
“They say it’s a ridiculous medj convention to wear clothes under clothes.”
“Well, it’s up to you, but you might find jeans, for instance, uncomfortable without underpants.”
“I borrowed some clothes yesterday from a neighbor. There’s nowhere to wash them yet. Would you mind cleaning them for me with magic and then I can take them back?”
Joyce nodded, “I’ll fix you up with more socks and some running shoes that won’t make blisters, but Dot says you’re all to have two hours off straight after lunch. You can take back the borrowed clothes then.”
Valencio smiled at her, “Thank you.” Joyce was alright.
Tasha was still not interested in going off the property, though he assured her it was only about a mile to Joe’s place. So he kissed her and strode off, again feeling that slight hesitancy as he crossed the border. He guessed it was for their own protecti
on, though no others had shown any inclination to go wandering and get lost.
Joe welcomed Valencio, but had his name slightly wrong and addressed him as ‘Vince.’ Valencio hesitated, but then laughed and decided he’d be Vince from now on. It was a strong name, that sounded so much more masculine than Valencio. No-one would think of strapping a ‘Vince’ to a Ven Restrainer.
They found him in a different mood that day. Instead of smiling around, half dazed, now he laughed at nothing, said the weather was wonderful, though it was cold and now overcast again, and that he couldn’t imagine a more wonderful place to be than this particular area of Scotland.
Anne asked hesitantly whether he’d said his name was Valencio yesterday. He beamed at her, and said he was Vince now, which was a much better name.
“They said you were refugees. Were you prisoners?” asked Joe.
Valencio asked him how many sheep he had. Joe and Anne took the hint, and asked no more questions.
After an hour, Valencio rose to leave, saying he had to get back. Joe, still curious about this unusual young man, asked if he’d like to be shown over the farm. Valencio glanced at the clock and said that he’d love to. He might have to run back, and he laughed again. Now, if he ran, it would be to go somewhere, not just around and around the inside of unclimbable fences.
“We’ll go in the truck,” announced Joe, “And I’ll take you back in the truck, as well. Your feet must be still sore.”
Valencio said, “I can run. They gave me better shoes and a bit bigger, much more comfortable.”
Joe’s passion was his Merino stud, and he finished his tour by showing Valencio a group of his stud rams. Valencio peered and laughed. Joe looked at him quizzically, but Valencio didn’t explain. He’d remembered Kaede and Clarence trying to explain castration to him in terms of stallions and geldings, and rams and wethers. He was glad that he’d never been turned into a wether, but he was also glad he hadn’t developed like a ram!
He insisted he’d run home that day, and Joe allowed him his way, telling him to come again. Joe and Anne looked at each other afterwards, and Anne said, “He kept looking at me and smiling, as if he’d never seen a woman before.”
“He said some of them were women, so I don’t know why.”
Joe smiled at his wife. “Maybe you reminded him of someone, or maybe it’s just that you’re beautiful.”
Anne snorted and said, “Anyway, he told us he was married to a woman called Tasha.”
“I might go to the pub this evening, see if anyone else knows anything.”
“I heard a rumor that they were escapees from a harem, but they would have been all women if that was true.”
Joe frowned and then shook his head. Surely not, but there was no denying that Vince was a very good-looking young man.
Tasha, meanwhile, fussed over their own small home, hanging pictures and remaking beds with sheets and blankets that didn’t show a large ‘C’ in the middle. The conjured ones were dumped higgledy piggledy in an unused room where they were expected to vanish of their own accord, unless somebody vanished them.
There was a brief, informal meeting of the Freign that evening before they dispersed, discussing what was yet to be done, deciding on priorities.
“It’s an immense satisfaction,” Dot said. “They’re so happy, and I know they’d like more time to explore, but they’re not begrudging and are working very hard.”
One of the men asked, “Are they polite?”
“Of course, very polite, very grateful.”
“Well, I can’t say they haven’t been polite to me - they just don’t come near me at all.”
Another of the wizards said, “Nor me, now I come to think of it. We’ve been so busy, of course.”
Joyce said calmly, “Remember what they’ve been used for. It’s natural that they avoid wizards.”
Michael put up his hand to his eye, though no bruising remained, and said, “As long as none of them attack.”
Dot said carefully, “Valencio. Carol told me a very little. Just that he’s suffered very severe punishment at times and can be apt to lash out. She says he’ll be fine with us, but that wizards should be careful of him.”
“So how exactly did she mean by careful of him?”
“She didn’t really say, only that no constraints should be put on him. She mentioned that up until yesterday morning, he still wore wrist and ankle cuffs, though he hadn’t actually given them any trouble for years.”
Joyce asked, “Michael, were you wearing your cape when he hit you?”
“Yes, and he was drunk besides. He apologized first thing this morning.”
“I wonder just what they did to him when he punched a Kobi wizard.”
“He stopped dead when I drew my wand, like maybe he expected to be punished.”
Dot said, “We’ll have him working just with women in that case, and make sure that at least one of the older women are with him.”
The talk went on to a mention of the girls, just fifteen. That they should not be treated like children, even so.
“They don’t come near us, either.”
Joyce said, “You’re wizards, I guess, and wizards have abused them. Try to look ordinary if you can, non-threatening. And don’t wear wizard robes or capes!”
Michael said, “Maybe I should have a medj-type haircut, like the boss does.”
“Good idea, if you’re willing. It’s what marks you as a wizard.”
The other wizards glanced at each other, and Barry said, “The spell to make hair grow fast always misfires, I hear.”
Young Tristan said, “I’ve only just managed to grow mine to a proper length. I think Bahiti would object if I cut it.”
“The boss doesn’t seem to mind looking like a medj.”
“Maybe if I were the great wizard, I wouldn’t mind either. Anyway, we’re not staying permanently.”
These men and women were Freign as much as the Kobis of Morocco. The men wore their hair long unless there was a particular reason not to, and their normal wear included a cape, and often, full robes. Wizard culture went back millennia, and while European Freign might consider themselves civilized, yet their culture was less peaceful that that of ordinary people. Wizard dueling for instance, was illegal in most European countries, but wizards were still crippled in duels, occasionally killed. On the other hand, large-scale wars were unknown.
There were no obvious differences in physiology between Medjkind and Freign , but there were some differences, especially within the brain. Yet they were not truly different species. There had been a lot of interbreeding in the past, though it had become rare in the past few hundred years. Freign were a very small minority within the larger culture, and took enormous care that their existence was viewed as myth. And nearly every one of them thought of medj as a vastly inferior species, even if one should be kind to them.