Moonday, Week 93, Month Decimus, Year of God 488

  Moondays were Kane’s favorite day of the week. For some reason, he had never liked rain, despite its omniprescence. He liked occasionally being able to see the sky above the heavy clouds. The church associated its bluish color with evil, but it had a calming effect on Kane, much like being with an old friend.

  Now, he sloshed through the ankle-deep water outside of Mossflower Hold. He pulled up his hood with his free hand. It was wide and deep, but some of the drizzling rain still managed to fall through, dripping onto his face. He sighed and bent down. He slipped his hand into the water and grabbed a clam. It espoused little resistance as he picked it up and plopped it into his basket. He had gathered over two dozen clams in the past three hours, which wasn’t particularly a high amount but not a low one either. His stomach was gurgling, and he was reminded how long it had been since breakfast. He had woken up at dawn, eaten, then spent four hours on kitchen duty before coming out to gather clams. They had used some of the red rock from the Umere or Lowenal Districts to attract more clams, and it had been a great success. Unfortunately, Kane was feeling sluggish today.

  He heard sloshing in the water behind him and turned around to see Eri striding towards him. They had become close friends over the weeks, always working together to farm clams and relaxing together afterwards. Her basket was empty, which meant she had deposited her clams recently.

  “Hey,” she said. “How many clams have you got?”

  “Oh hey, Eri,” Kane responded. “I’m not doing too well today.”

  Eri’s expression soured. “Neither did I. Maybe we picked this area too clean yesterday.”

  “Or maybe the other farmers combed this area this morning,” Kane said. “Is there anywhere there’s more clams?”

  “Yeah,” Eri said, her face brightening in memory. “Nobody went to the northeast portion of the farm the other day; maybe there’s still some there.” The entire clam farm was almost a mile to either side, extending from the beach in the north to the water becoming deeper in the south.

  “That’s nearby,” Kane said. “Let’s go.”

  The two farmers sloshed through the knee-deep water, wholly devoid of clams. Eventually, as they made their way eastward, Kane felt a clam under his feet. He bent down, pried it off its perch, and placed it in his basket.

  “Here we are,” he said.

  The two began to gather clams, and eventually other farmers showed up. They had picked the rest of the farm clean and decided to go to this area so they wouldn’t have to work as hard tomorrow.

  Something funny came into Kane’s mind. “Hey, these aren’t clams we’re farming!”

  “Why do you say that?” Eri asked. “Pretty sure everything on our farm’s clams.”

  “Clams don’t attach themselves to the ground,” Kane said. “Mussels and oysters do*. We’re technically mussel or oyster farmers.”

  “Well, we’ve always called these things clams,” Eri said. “Easier to say a monosyllabic word that’s inaccurate than a polysyllabic word that’s accurate.”

  “Mono-what?” Kane asked. “I didn’t know you knew big words like that.”

  “I read a book once,” Eri said. “Us farmers aren’t illiterate - we need to keep track of records and things. Besides, I like the way it sounds - ‘monosyllabic’ just rolls off the tongue.” She laughed. “Anyway, clams are just part of our culture.”

  *Thanks, Wikipedia, for the clarification. Hoo boy would that have been a glaring error had I not justified it with their culture.

  They continued to harvest the clams (or mussels or oysters), prying them out of their refuges and putting them in their woven baskets. Since the northeast portion of the farm was blessed with clams this fine Moonday, Eri and Kane got four full baskets apiece by the time the sky began to darken. The rain began to pour down gradually harder and harder, signifying the impending Waxday. Finally, the group of farmers filled their final baskets and began to slosh towards the village proper.

  Kane walked up to the open wooden crates waiting just inside the main building. They were each almost three feet tall and piled high with clams, and many more full crates had already been taken inside. He emptied his basket into the nearest crate, the clamshells making a clacking sound as they slid into place. When the last farmer had entered the building and deposited their clams, Kane picked up a crate and began to move downstairs. The crate was heavy, but Kane’s well-developed core muscles from months of repeatedly bending over and stretching aided him in hauling it with relative ease. He arrived in the underground village, then turned and walked down the main hallway to the kitchens. He placed his crate on top of another crate; the full crates almost completely covered one wall. Eri followed behind, placing a laden crate next to Kane’s.

  The delectable scent of soup was overpowering. Kane had ignored his hunger for the entire afternoon, but now his lack of midday sustenance was catching up to him. He walked up to the nearest cook and asked for a bowl of soup. The cook picked up his ladle, dipped it into his pot, and slopped the beige clamshell soup into a wooden bowl. Kane greedily slurped the scalding liquid down, then asked for another bowl. After finishing his second bowl, he walked to a nearby bench and sat down.

  He was suddenly aware of his aching muscles from a hard day of work. He slumped forward and buried his face in his hands, running his fingertips through his hair. He had probably gathered more clams in this single day than he normally would get in an entire week.

  He sighed, then laid back on the hard stone bench as if it was a bed. The nearest cook looked at him funny but didn’t say anything. He put his hands beneath his head, then turned towards the wall.

  He must have fallen asleep, because the next thing he knew, someone was shaking him and saying, “Hey, Kane, get up!”

  “Wha’ is it?” slurred Kane, clearing the tiredness from his eyes with his hands. He sat up and found the person waking him was Eri.

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  “Time to go to bed,” she said. “If you’re gonna sleep, you should sleep on an actual mat.”

  “Thanks,” Kane said. “Is it nighttime?”

  “Yeah,” Eri said. “I already ate, by the way.”

  “Did I miss anything?” Kane asked. “I should’ve helped with the cleaning or something.”

  “No need to apologise,” Eri said. “We worked our asses off today. I think we deserve a rest.”

  The two of them walked down the hall. It was mostly deserted at this hour, with light and conversation coming from the sleeping chambers. Kane had been assigned living space with a family consisting of a wife named Kalevena, a husband named Mardinios, and an infant boy named Rubiconos. They were friendly, but the baby screamed often and the couple “went to the bathroom” frequently together. Their chamber was right next to Eri’s family one.

  “Good night,” Eri said, opening the thick stone door to her room.

  “Night,” said Kane, tired. He hadn’t dreamed during his couple hours of sleep. He opened his door and entered. As usual, the young married couple was off doing something or other. Mercifully, the baby was with them, so Kane had peace and quiet for at least a short time.

  He walked to his mat, then removed his cloak. He took a swig from a jug of water on the floor, then removed his boots. Due to them not having laces, this took more time and effort than was wholly necessary. When he finally got them off after much cursing and scrabbling, he flopped onto his mat. He pulled the blanket up over his head and sighed in contentment.

  Alas, sleep did not come easily to Kane. He tossed and turned endlessly. He was just beginning to drift off when the door burst open and the married couple entered, chatting loudly and laughing. They carried a lantern, and the light blinded Kane. He groaned and hid his face deeper.

  “Could you two morons be louder?” he groaned. “I totally don’t need to sleep at night.”

  “Shaddup,” Mardinios drawled. He was clearly drunk. “I wanna shleep.”

  “Yeah,” Kalevena slurred. “No need t’be an ash ‘bout it.” She giggled. “C’mere, Mar.”

  Kane groaned as the pair began kissing. Suddenly, he was reminded that the baby wasn’t with them.

  “Where’s Rubiconos?” Kane asked.

  “Ru… Rubi… Wha’ now?” slurred Mardinios. He started. “Oh. Oh yeah. Th’ baby.”

  “Where is he?” Kane asked. “If you left him somewhere, you’ll be in big trouble.”

  “Uhh…” Kalevena said. “Think I left ‘im at th’ rec hall. We were drinkin’, y’see. Don’t wanna drink a baby.” She giggled and slapped her knee.

  At this point, Kane stood up. The pair stopped giggling. They sobered up - but only slightly.

  “You left the sundamn baby in the rec hall!?” Kane ranted incredulously. “What do you think it is, a daycare?! No! It’s a place for adults! He’s probably hungry and very pissed off, and what do you moronic pieces of trash do? Sun all! If you think debauchery is more important than seeing to the safety of your kid, then you probably don’t sundamn deserve him! I’m gonna find him, then I’m gonna have words with the marquess’s representative.” He walked out into the hall with only his shirt, pants and socks on, fuming. The couple stuttered and tried to stop him, but he continued to walk.

  As he stormed down the hallway, he was struck by a familiar, relevant and extremely painful memory. He had been around ten or so, and he had been walking around the Holy Square with his father. It had been a dreary Moonday, but the area was packed with moving people of all Castes.

  He had turned his head and saw an infant just lying on the cobblestones, off to the side of the main crowd. The baby had no parents, and was squalling and squirming.

  “Father, look!” Kane had said. “It’s a baby without parents!”

  His father sniffed. “Common trash.”

  “What do you mean, Father?” Kane asked. “It’s just a baby.”

  “You see, son, the lower Castes have some… problems with their connection to God. They were made to be less happy than us nobles, and they sometimes mate with each other to bring fleeting happiness,” lectured Father. “And as you know, mating’s only purpose is to produce heirs. For a variety of reasons, commoners don’t want heirs. So sometimes they abandon their babies.”

  “Why don’t we help him?” Kane asked, tears in his eyes. “We could give him a life, make him a servant at our mansion!”

  “It was born in destitution,” Father said coldly. “That will affect it for the rest of its pitiful life. We shouldn’t help those below us - they exist to serve the God’s high-ranked officials like us. Come on, son.” He grabbed Kane’s arm tightly and pulled him away.

  As Kane watched, he saw a young Fire Castewoman walk up to the abandoned baby. She emitted a cry of sorrow, then picked up the baby and called out. Several other Fire Castemen and women walked up. They picked up the baby together, then began to slowly move away. I hope they raise it, Kane had thought. I hope Father isn’t right.

  Now, as Kane stormed down the hallway towards the recreation area, he fumed at that blatant disregard for safety and security both his father and the couple had espoused. His own family had treated him like garbage, but they hadn’t abandoned him.

  After a couple of minutes of walking, he arrived at the entrance rec hall. The sound of a baby crying emanated from it. He opened the door and entered the room.

  The cavernous room was covered with tables, chairs and benches made of stone or wood. At the far end of the room was a bar and many barrels of various sorts of drink. Sitting on a chair near the bar was a tired-looking middle-aged man holding the baby. He probably was the bartender, due to him being sober.

  “Are you here to pick up your baby?” the man asked.

  “It’s my roommates’ baby,” Kane growled. “What happened?”

  “They literally put him on the ground outside the rec hall, then ordered drinks,” the bartender said. “I had one of my workers pick him up and bring him in. Mardinios and Kalevena have always been irresponsible, but this just takes the rat steak as the crowning achievement of their idiocy.”

  “I think we should speak to the marquess about this,” Kane said. “Rubiconos should have a family who actually cares about him.”

  “Agreed,” the bartender said. He got up and left the room, handing the infant to Kane. He inexpertedly held Rubiconos, gently rocking him. He eventually stopped crying and fell asleep.

  A few hours later, the issue was resolved. The marquess had been notified, and he called an emergency meeting of the entire village. They almost unanimously voted to give the baby to Randalina, who had lost her young child to the plague a few months back. She had a large family of adults who would be willing to pitch in with raising Rubiconos. By the time it was over, Kalevena and Mardinios were fuming and crying. Serves them right, thought Kane. These people have a strong community, and they couldn’t take care of their own sundamn child. The Marquess Royce was a kind man who paid attention to his village’s issues. He saw the Fire Castemen as actual humans and not disposable beasts of burden.

  This reminded Kane of the fact that his newfound community might be slaugtered, sacrificed to God by that very same Rain Caste he had been a part of. This chilled him. He had lost too much and too many to accept losing more. If the rumors were true, than Kane would fight tooth and nail to make sure Rubiconos and his comrades could live a happy, safe life. As he finally went to bed, he slept well that night.