Arc 1 Chapter 2

Indebted

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 My mother is the first to recover. She slaps my father hard across the face. "No!" Is all she says as she vibrates, too furious to construct a sensible response.

"We don't have a choice. He-" My father begins but my uncle injects.

"He's paying a fucking palm'30. And he'll make Topar an apprentice navigator, we couldn't ask for better terms." A bronze palm and 30 finger ingots is a lot of money, more than the farm makes in five years.

My mother is fuming, I think she's winding up a punch when my father grabs her arm.

"Our debts are due. We might lose the farm if we refuse, Sicklemouth has already bought our debt to the Hayswallows. We really don't have much of a choice," father murmurs, he's sitting across from me on the goat's fleece bench. 

Grandmother sits looking miserable on her chair by the hearth. She stares at my uncle, her son, "Your father would be ashamed of you. To sell your niece to such a vile orc. He would have thrown you off the island. And you," she looks at my father, "You say you have no choice, but is that really true? Will you really sell your only daughter? Sell my only granddaughter, to such swine? Is there really no other way to keep the farm? I won't believe it." She shakes her head, "How did my sons grow up to be so cruel? So cowardly? Your father told you to protect our family, not sell your children to goat-fucking orcs."

My father's face becomes grim. "It is for the family I must do this."

He stands from his couch, "We will lose a daughter that we were always going to lose, but with that much bronze we can pay off our debts. Our sons can come home and even pay the dowry for their own wives. I am her father, this decision is mine. We have no better options." My father glares at his mother, then at mine.

My mother looks away, she's holding back furious tears, grandmother looks older than I've ever seen her before. I guess this is just the reality of life in the Crater.

Father turns to me, and more gently explains "I won't say it will be easy or pleasant, but you will be cared for and you will live a life of luxury. I am the island headman and the head of this household, I must prioritize the good of the whole family, and our community, over one daughter—this means prioritizing your brothers and cousins who right now risk their lives at sea." He ruffles my braided hair and kisses my forehead. "I hope you will one day come to accept my decision. And Master Sicklemouth was much more pleasant than his servant. You're adaptable, you'll find happiness." 

 

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Two weeks have passed since the meeting with Lumberhaver, my parents are still hardly talking to one another and Grandmother has been so tired she's hardly left her bed. 

Uncle and his side of the family have been in a very good mood since Topar left on Lumberhaver's boat, for his apprenticeship-—a navigator in the family will go a long way in improving our family's situation.

Perrifare is beautiful in summer, its rusty red cliffs contrast the blue sea and sky. Today I procrastinate my chores by wandering the familiar goat tracks and the well-worn paths through olive groves and scruby woodlands. I've decided to take the long route towards the rocky beach so I can think, I need to find a way to persuade my father to cancel my betrothal, or any other way I can escape my wedding. 

I daydream that pirates attack and handsome young pirate princes try to steal my hand. Or that I leave the Crater and fight mainlanders for treasure from Earth. My childish fantasies help distract me from my problems, but pirates rarely ever bother with our poor archipelago and mainlanders are all too huge and brutish for goblin girls to fight.

I could run away, but where would I go? Anywhere I went in our archipelago my father or husband-to-be would eventually find me. I doubt my orc suitor would give up finding me easily—if he's willing to pay such an absurd price. I could leave the Southern Archipelago, but then what? How could I survive?

I kick a stone down the steep path, it tumbles well and knocks a few other stones loose, together they click and clack off the path and down the slope. My tiny avalanche almost makes it to the shore before losing speed in the heather.

That was really satisfying.

I've always dreamed of leaving the Southern Archipelago, even before my betrothal. Grandma is a good storyteller and I was raised hearing about all the cool shit on Mars, who wouldn't want to see the world with their own eyes? Who wouldn't want to run away and see wonders like the Mage Spires or the Giant's Steppe? Maybe all this is just the kick I need to go adventuring. 

But what about my family?

I'm poor, my family is poor, my island is poor. We have been in debt for three generations. If I marry this Sicklemouth orc my family might finally have a chance to prosper again, Topar is even becoming a navigator apprentice—that is a job with prospects. If I suffer in silence my family will prosper. 

I kick another stone. It rolls twice then gets caught in a divot.

I don't want to suffer.

I don't know anything about the world really. Other than how cruel it is to goblin girls. If I left, I would probably be enslaved by ogres or murdered by humans, or by any other terror that comes from beyond the Crater Rim. 

With money I could protect myself... I don't have any money though. I need a way to become independent if I'm going to escape. I could join the Cult of the Infinite maybe? Their preachers come to Perrifare sometimes, they make a big deal about helping people escape unfortunate circumstances. 

I grimace. Their preachers always had an odd air around them. A last resort maybe.

I could become a prostitute? No, that defeats the point of escaping. I'll talk with mother and grandmother, they both married onto Perrifare from elsewhere, they might know something else I could do on my own.

...But what about family? Perrifare? I like Topar, he's always been sweet to me. What happens to him and his apprenticeship if I leave?

 

I reach the shore and stand where the heather stops and the dark red shingles begin. I look out across the horizon, feeling overwhelmed, and try to think of what to do.

I decide to kick a shingle. 

It flies through the air and lands with a clatter amongst its peers. I didn't have a reason to come here today, I just don't want to be near my family right now.

I pick up a pebble, it's a small one. I throw it as far as I can. When it lands it breaks a wide flat shingle in two with a pleasant tink. 

I kick a shingle that's bigger than my foot and swear loudly when my foot is hurt more than the stupid rock.

I pick my adversary up in both arms, then throw. It doesn't go far, but I feel a bit better as a hail of smaller shingles get flung as it meets them. The clicker-clack of stones bouncing and breaking off each other makes me feel a little bit better. 

I do a running kick on a nice round number and it hurts, but the pain and the clink-clink-clatter are relieving. 

I pick up a nice wide flat shingle and drop it straight down, the flat stone breaks into four pieces by my boot. I kick the pieces away. Then I kick another shingle. I throw, kick, scream and even punch the stones until it no longer makes me feel better. 

Suddenly I'm sitting on my ass crying.

Fuck.

I wait a while then go back home.

 

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I must look perfectly wretched when I come inside the living room. My hands and back of my dress are sandy, my eyes feel puffy and my fingers and knuckles are scratched and a little bloody.

On spotting me mother abandons what she's doing on the hearth and rushes to me, "Pimple, what happened?"

"Lost a fight with the beach."

She reaches me and holds me at her arm's length and inspects me. Her eyes become gentle and she hugs me. "Let's get you washed up."

 

She leads me to the barrel by the backdoor where we store water. She starts softly wiping my hands and face while stroking my hair, she's spending a lot longer doing it than necessary. Her touch is warm were the water is cold. "I suppose this'll be the last time I can fuss over you." She whispers.

Tears begin to shed again from my recently dried eyes. "I don't want to go," I whimper. I had hoped I was done crying today. Kind of ruins my image. "I don't want to marry some old man on Grabosh."

My mother stops cleaning my hands and pulls me into a hug, "Then I'm not going to let them give you to the fucking orcs." 

I pull away to look at her large orange eyes.

She stares, "I don't know how, but we'll think of something, your father and his traditions be damned." She's earnestly looking at me.

"I want to escape, but I can't think of how, or what I could do off Perrifare. I wanted to ask you and grandma if you knew a job I could get."

She lets out a long sigh, "The world isn't kind to goblins. But we'll think of something. Maybe find a way for you onto the next trading ship? I'll speak with your grandmother about it tonight. Now," her face becomes strict, "Did you muck the goats like I asked?"

Only my mother would bring up abandoned chores right now.

 

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I don't actually dislike chores that much. Cleaning the goats' hut isn't my favourite but it doesn't take that long and it's satisfying to replace the soiled straw with fresh-smelling stuff. I'm finished shortly after and begin looking around the garden for the next thing that needs doing.

My family mostly makes wine, but we also grow our own vegetables, tend a small olive grove, a fruit orchard and keep goats for their milk, wool and occasionally their meat. Every few months we also help our neighbours with their grain fields in exchange for a share. Currently, our grapes are green on the vine and none of the grain crops are due, so most of my work is odd jobs around the garden. I decide to start pruning suckers off tomato bushes. 

My work is interrupted by a distant rhythm rolling up our valley. The thump thump thump of a ship-drum marks that a galley is nearing our shore.

Shit.

I'm out of time, fucking Sicklemouth is due. Is he on that boat?