The table was hard and grainy under her elbow. Her head, propped up by her arm, was unreasonably heavy. The herbs in her vegetable soup drifted around on the surface as if they were dancing bugs, or maybe miniature boats. Swirling around her spoon they looked like they were racing or trying to catch one another.
“…coming tomorrow. You will be ready to greet him for brunch, yes?”
Maril jerked, splashing a little soup out onto the table. She looked up at her father sitting on the other side of the small family table nestled in the corner of the kitchen under a window. “Sorry, what?”
Her father sighed, frowning at her as if she was intentionally ignoring him instead of practically falling asleep in her soup. Of course, Owen had been right, she was not able to go out and finish renewing the runes on the aqueduct today, she wasn’t even sure she would be recovered enough to go tomorrow. She had come down to the kitchen for some food after sleeping until well past noon. After only half a bowl of Vicki’s delicious veggie soup, she was already thinking of going back to bed.
“… canceled the last two meetings. He will be here tomorrow for brunch, Vicki is going to make something special. You will greet him at the door and will entertain him while he is here. Try to…” her father trailed off, trying to think of the right wording. He gestured his hand around trying to encompass what he was thinking, “you know… be presentable? Ladylike?”
Maril blinked at him realizing that she had again missed the part of the conversation that told her which of the noble gnomes was coming to meet her tomorrow. Her parents had been systematically ‘introducing’ her to all the noble male gnomes in the city that were approximately her age. Fortunately, or maybe unfortunately, there were not that many of them. But she was not interested in meeting another one, especially tomorrow when she would prefer to sleep well past brunch time.
“Does it have to be tomorrow? I’ll probably still be sleeping.”
“You will not still be sleeping. I will ensure that someone gets you up with plenty of time to become presentable before Mister Hinkleton’s son arrives.” He scowled at her, probably because she was slouching, still leaning on her arm braced on the table. Or maybe because she hadn’t bothered to change her clothes and was still wearing the wrinkled tan overalls and plaid shirt that she had worn yesterday to the farming district and then ended up sleeping in. Or maybe… There were many possibilities, her father seemed to disapprove of virtually every aspect of her.
“…waste your magic energy on your hobbies you would have more magic left over to actually properly perform your job. There really isn’t any excuse, you just…”
Maril sagged farther over the table. They had had this discussion, many times. She really wasn’t interested in having it again. It wasn’t her fault that her magic wasn’t exactly like her father’s, and it wasn’t her fault that she, as a working mage in his household, had been required to have her first permitted work area also be infrastructure, like his. She wasn’t good at it, the large magic networks just drained her. Leaving her empty and needing to recover by sleeping for too many days.
She slouched deeper on her braced arm and let her spoon fall beside her soup bowl. And since she looked so incompetent, rarely able to finish the assignments she was given on time, she was unlikely to be approved to get an ‘intricate item’ work area stamp on her magic permit which would allow her to legally work on smaller, more elaborate projects. Projects that she was actually good at and didn’t send her to bed for days. She was really good at them, she could make the tiniest runes and put extremely detailed magic in small devices. But no, she was stuck throwing vast amounts of magic into huge networks to prevent rocks from falling. A single tear began to well in her eye.
“Are you listening to me?” Her father demanded, thumping his hand on the table.
Maril shook her head slowly, awkwardly since it was still supported by the heel of her hand, “No,” she mumbled, “I don’t think I am listening very well. I think I am going back to bed.” Slowly she pushed herself away from the gnome sized table. She then waited for her vision to return to normal before letting go of the table and heading across the large flagstones to the door out of the kitchen that would take her to the stairs. Her father was still talking, but it took too much concentration to stay upright, there was none left over to follow what he was saying.
The kitchen door, sized for humans and built from solid slabs of wood, was big and heavy. It always seemed so large to her, especially when she was exhausted. But she was able to push it open and stepped through. When she let go of the door it swung shut and muffled her father, she liked that. But she didn’t like that she, suddenly without the door to push on, was tipping forward, falling.
Right onto Owen’s shoulder, who was squatting down in the hall. Had he been waiting there the whole time?
“Back to bed, miss?”
Maril nodded limply against his shoulder and relaxed as he easily stood up with her held securely against his chest. She convinced herself that only a few tears escaped onto his grey vest, not enough for him to notice.
He walked up the two flights of stairs, also annoyingly human-sized, with ease. And then down the hall to her room. Her room was radiant with the afternoon sun shining through the third-story window. The patch of sunlight fell on her bed which was covered in blankets and pillows in a kaleidoscope of vibrant patterns and colors. The sunbeam made the whole room glow with warm light. Owen placed her limp body on the large bed and pulled one of the many blankets over her.
He showed her a little basket that he had apparently also carried up the stairs, “Miss Vicki made you some raspberry tarts. I will leave them here for when you wake up,” Owen gestured as he placed the basket on her nightstand beside the gnome sized cup and pitcher of water.
“Thanks, Owen,” Maril said weakly, “Thanks for…” she trailed off, not exactly sure what specifically she was thanking him for.
He smiled, “No problem miss. Sleep well,” he turned and closed the dark curtains before leaving the room and softly closing the door behind him.