The Girl Who Fell from the Polar Star - Chapter 5

October 06, 2022

Stella was so exhausted that she didn’t remember falling asleep at all, and she woke up the next day feeling positively terrible. Marie prepared her a breakfast of soup and bread. She stuffed it down her throat and dragged herself outside for a walk, taking Clever with her. He rode the morning updraft, soaring in circles high above, watching for danger. Rye wanted to tag along as well, so Stella gave her some money and commanded her to buy proper clothes. It’s about time she changed out of those dirty rags.

“Are you sure? This is a lot of money.”

“Don’t worry about it. If I want you to work for me, I’ll need you to look presentable. Go get yourself some nice clothes,” Stella said. “But why are you here? Do you have something to say?”

She can’t be trying to escape. I made sure to emphasize how foolish that is. If Rye decided to disregard her warning and escape anyway, Stella was ready to give up on her. No point in persisting with someone who refuses to think. There were Marie and Beck to consider as well, but Stella wasn’t worried about them escaping. Marie because she was older and more levelheaded, and Beck because, in fact, she almost wanted to see him try. Hunting him down would be fun.

As Stella stood bent over like a crone, struggling to breathe and grinning like an imp, Rye answered her question.

“I was just wondering . . . Why are you going outside? Like, c’mon, you look like you died and forgot to stop walking.” She toyed with a pebble.

“Because I need to get in shape.”

“Aren’t there other ways? You’re driving yourself too hard.”

“I’ve got no choice. I can’t make up for all the time I’ve lost without being a little reckless. It’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

Starting was the hardest part. Stella’s body was begging her to stop, yet the only way to make progress was to ignore the pleas and press on.

“Why are you so desperate about it, though?”

“So many questions.” Stella hesitated for a moment. “I want to live until I’m sixty. That’s how much a healthy human can live, though it may vary. You only live once, after all, so I’m going to make it count.”

Rye stared back, puzzled. She crossed her arms. “You’re younger than me, but you act like you’ve got it all figured out. That’s not normal, you know.”

“ ‘Normal’? I don’t care about ‘normal.’ And what about you? Is that how a ‘normal’ slave talks to her master?”

Not that I mind. Stella had no reason to fix Rye’s personality; it was part of what made her so interesting. Beck was different, though. If he ever talks to me like that, I’ll make him regret it.

Stella huffed. I’m so tired . . .

Rye watched her without saying a word.

Stella puffed. Is this the fatigue from yesterday?

“You weren’t kidding, huh,” Rye finally said. “You’re so out of shape it’s actually kind of worrying.”

“One”—Stella gasped for air—“One step after the other . . . Can’t stop. Then there’s my diet to consider, and my workout routine . . . I need strong bones, strong muscles . . . Ahh, I think I’m gonna throw up . . .”

“A-Are you okay?” Rye rubbed her back.

Her touch felt cool and pleasant. So this is human warmth, Stella realized. I had no idea a simple touch could be so soothing. “Thank you. Well, I’ll be heading back now. You go buy those clothes.”

“What, already?”

“I’ve walked enough. Half an hour, plus half an hour for the return trip. My muscles are already trying to kill me.” Maybe I should get myself a walking cane.

Taking a deep breath and straightening her back, Stella started on her way home, alone. The streets of the Central District were unusually crowded for this hour of the morning. This was the district she had visited before with Beck, where they had seen the arena and the slave market. The Stock Company was in the West District, and so was Glenn’s General Store, in a desolate part of it on Rolbury Street.

‘Master, what yer doing is commendable, but what’s up with yer face, eh? I’ve seen corpses more alive than you!’

“Can you get off my ear? I’m struggling enough without having to listen to your beautiful voice.”

‘Keke! Struggling, eh? Then lemme give you a push!’

He did, and Stella fell face first into the ground. She rolled until her face and clothes were full of dirt and her hair was a filthy mess. At least it wasn’t a hard fall, and none of her bones were broken; but it was still hard enough that her twiggy arms were unable to break it.

As she lay on the ground, the passersby threw her looks of pity bordering on scorn. None offered a hand—there was no such thing as altruism in this town. But that didn’t matter. She could get up on her own. He’s definitely going to pay, though.

“. . . Now you’ve done it.”

‘I, uh . . .’

“You’ve had your fun. Now stand still and take your punishment.” Without so much as blinking, Stella produced her Magic Crystal.

‘Yeek!’ Clever flew away from her into the sky.

Looking up, she saw him dutifully resume his rounds. He didn’t seem keen on coming back any time soon. He can’t stay there forever. I’ll be waiting.

“. . . You’re a real handful.”

She looked forward. There was still a long way to go.

When Stella finally got back to the store, it was with dirt and sweat all over her tunic and white undergarments. Rye had arrived before her and already changed into her new clothes, simple and unadorned yet easy to move in. She looked like some insolent young boy; that was likely her intention.

“What took you so long—Wait, what happened?! Did you get mugged or something?” she said when she saw Stella.

“It’s that damn bird’s fault. Good thing I’m still in one piece, at least. One very dirty, uncomfortable piece.”

“Oh my! I’ll prepare you a bath at once!” Marie exclaimed.

“Thank you. Say, where is that jolly winged vermin? He should have arrived before me.”

“You mean Clever? He mentioned some urgent business and left in a hurry.”

“Urgent business, huh. When he comes back, I need to show how much I missed him.”

A meal was waiting for Stella on the table. She stripped to her underwear and sat down to eat. There were only women around at the moment, as Beck was busy drawing water and delivering the first batch of Stella’s elixir to the Stock Company. Easy money. All I need to do is expend some of my energy.

“Here, you can clean yourself with this.” Marie handed her a warm towel.

“Thank you.”

Marie was doing great for her second day. I’ve made a good purchase. Instructing slaves from scratch was a lot of time and effort. It could bear fruit, and make her feel accomplished—but it could just as well not, and fill her with despair. It was a scary possibility to consider. She imagined wasting all that effort on someone like Beck. I’d probably want to smash his head like a melon, she thought. No, I’m not some unruly child. I need to control myself.

Stella took her time wiping her face and body. Reaching for her back was tough; her arm creaked with the effort.

After a while, Rye sighed and said, “Sit down. I’ll do it.”

She came over behind Stella. Taking the towel and producing a comb of her own, she started working with deft and experienced hands. Maybe I’ve misjudged her, Stella thought, glad that she’d found a competent slave. “That’s very nice of you.”

“If you’d seen yourself, you’d have wanted to help too.”

“Is that so?” Marie and Rye were two excellent finds, even if I picked them on a whim. This is a good feeling. “You’re very good at this, you know that?” she added as a sincere compliment.

Rye didn’t answer but only muttered to herself in annoyance. Stella caught the words “elitist snob” and felt mildly disappointed. Rye should know better than to say these things within earshot of her master.

“. . . You’re the one who’s bad at it. Tch. You’re a girl, dammit. At least keep yourself presentable.”

“That’s rich, coming from you. Did you not have access to any mirrors in that cage?”

“That was on purpose. I needed some way to keep the perverts at bay.” She paused before continuing. “I’m not saying you’re better than them, though!”

“So rude.”

Stella reached for the salad. She had no appetite, yet she must eat to build her strength. Fried eggs, bread, grilled fish—it was a veritable feast, and just the sight of it made her stomach roil. But Marie had worked hard for this. As her master, Stella couldn’t let her effort go to waste.

With a deep breath, she started working her fork. It was torture. But eat she must. This is pain. She ate faster.

“If you eat so fast—” said Marie.

“It’s fine, I’m chewing properly.”

“I’ve never seen someone eat breakfast like they’re afraid it’s gonna eat them instead,” said Rye.

“Less staring, more eating. I’m not some rare animal. I have an idea for a new product, and you two are going to help me.”

“A new product? Uh . . . Look, not to sound rude, but there’s nothing worth buying in here. Maybe you should take your money and stock up.” Rye looked at her with sympathy.

Stella was fully aware. That was why she’d come up with a new product in the first place—something highly profitable, yet requiring minimal effort. The basics of running a business. I’ve done my homework.

After breakfast, she slipped into some fresh clothes. Her belly wasn’t full, yet it felt nigh on bursting. One more bite and I might actually blow up.

Stella lifted her blunt bangs. When she let them go, they fell right back into place. She liked her hair short; it was easy to maintain. Fiddling with it served no purpose, but these subconscious human tics, as they were called, were fascinating to her.

“Where is Beck, by the way? Why is he taking so long to make a simple delivery?” She picked up her Magic Crystal from where she’d left it.

“We were running out of milk and oil, so I asked him to get more on the way. He should be back soon,” Marie said.

“I see. Well, you’re free to use him as you see fit. That’s what he’s for anyway. I’ve told him to watch the store whenever he’s not doing anything else.”

Oil was a precious commodity, both for cooking and as lantern fuel to keep the darkness at bay. Stella would like to keep the place lit all night long; it would help discourage any prospective burglars. Stock Company territory or not, it meant little to lowly thieves.

“. . . Hey,” called Rye.

“Yes?”

“I have a lot of questions. And I think Marie wants to know the answers too.”

Stella sighed. It would happen eventually. Let’s get this over with. “Sure, but keep them simple. I’m not in the mood to tell you my whole life. It’s a worthless use of my precious time. I only have fifty years left to—”

“I know, I know! So, uh, my biggest question is, why can that bird talk? And why is it so strong? It’s not a common bird, is it?”

“He’s one of the last Sacred Beasts. He’s decided to stick with me, so I’m trying to make good use of him. I don’t remember the silly accent, though. He may have started talking like that recently.”

“Sacred Beast? What’s that?”

“They’re creatures born to protect.”

“Protect who? You?”

“In Clever’s case, at least. He’s a talking bird. What of it? It’s nothing worth thinking about. He listens to most of my orders, he protects me, and sometimes he’s a bit of a goon. I’m not going to be too harsh on him this time either. Just throttle him a little and call us even.”

“Really? Uh, I don’t get it, but if you say so. Let’s see, what else—”

“More questions?” Stella made no effort to hide her annoyance.

“You’re ten years old, right?”

“I am. Ten whole years, wasted. It’s depressing to think about.”

“Ah, sure. I’m twelve, by the way.”

“Hmm.” Stella already knew that. The slaver had told her, and she’d memorized it just in case. She also knew Marie’s and Beck’s ages—forty and twenty, respectively.

“Yeah. So, what I’m saying is, ten-year-olds aren’t supposed to be that, uhm . . .” She trailed off and didn’t finish.

“Are you done?”

Stella started to rise from her seat when Rye stopped her by pressing down on her shoulders. “No, no! I’m not done at all!”

“I’m busy, you know.”

“But there’s still so much I want to know! Like, what’s that crystal you always carry with you?”

“Maybe I’ll tell you some other time. Now, like I said, I’m going to need your help. Yours too, Marie.”

Marie stopped clearing the table and said, “O-Of course. What do you want me to do?”

“What the heck do you want us to do?”

“I’ve told you what. You’re going to help me make my new product.” Fighting back sleep, Stella poked Rye in the forehead and got up, ready to work.