serindrana - Scattered Coin :: C is for Carrion

25th January 2012

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Scattered Coin :: C is for Carrion →

There’s a penned-off section of the Gallows, supposedly a holding area for the dead waiting to be cremated. In reality it’s more of a midden heap, piles of bodies with no name attached, no home. But she can guess - all Fereldan. All fleeing the Blight.

She tells the small crew she’s brought to be careful. They cover their mouths and noses with fabric just shy of being too thick to breathe through, and after a small bribe to a guard who really only needs a smile and a wink to let them through, they go to work. They pick through the dead with gloved hands, tugging at clothing and searching for trinkets. Most of the pockets have been turned out already; they aren’t the first round of vultures to search for threadbare valuables. She doesn’t expect to find much.

But she does find gold teeth. She does find little copper pins. She finds bit and pieces of polished stone that she knows she can get something for. And while the work is dirty, dangerous, potentially deadly - it pays.

And she’s smart. They’ll be fine, she’s sure.

They avoid the bodies that have rotted the most and the ones with darkened veins. They work quickly and take breaks, washing themselves down with sea water if they have to. It takes three shifts. But when they’re done, bones have been picked clean and pockets have been lined. It’s a satisfying day’s work, an addendum to the threads they tug at from their little rock in the middle of the harbor, even if the stench of death probably won’t leave her hair and leathers for a fortnight.

That night, one of the boys asks if what they’re doing is right. It’s good for a short laugh. These are the same wretches she’s found clawing at the bottom of gutters, that are willing to kill and intimidate and steal for her, and they ask if something is right? But she can see it’s haunting them, along with that lingering odor.

So she sits down with them. She shared bread with them. And she dredges up the few lines of Chant she knows, and she tells them,

“All things in this world are finite; what one man loses, another has gained, “

and if she’s switched it around a little, nobody breathes a word.

___

[Masterpost, Ao3]

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