Sabine - A Native's Tale

Chapter 1

Sabine loosened the collection bag from her shoulder and lowered it to the ground. Wiping a hand across her brow, she gazed across the rows and rows of sweetfruit bushes that stretched to the horizon. It was only mid-morning, and the heat in the field was already unbearable. Thermal waves shimmered over the land, attesting to the fact this was going to be the hottest day of late summer so far.

She waved a hand at one of the water carriers two rows over. The youngster slipped between the rows, ran up, and handed her the water bag. Sabine uncorked the nozzle and took a long draw.

Sorry it’s not cold, the girl said. It heated up in a hurry out here today.

Not a problem, Sabine answered, patting the girl’s head and handing the bag back to her. Just glad you were nearby and I didn’t have to wait. By the way, you’re doing a good job, and I ought to know. I did it myself for two years. It’s not easy hauling water to pickers all day long.

You did this, really?

Uh-huh. When I was about your age. I started in the sorting rooms when I was eight, and when I turned eleven, I came to the fields as a water carrier.

But now you’re a picker.

Yep, have been for five years.

Your name is Sabine, right? the youngster asked.

Sabine cocked her head. Yes, it is. How did you know?

She pointed to a distant processing wagon. I overheard the leprechaun overseer mention to one of his enforcers that the prettiest girl in the south orchards was working this tract today. He said her name was Sabine, so I thought that must be you.

You should stay away from him, Sabine said.

Why?

Trust me, you just should. Now take your water bag and see if Tesa needs a drink. She pointed to a girl bent over a bush heavy with sweetfruit a few rows away.

Okay, the girl said.  But before she ran off, she looked at Sabine once more and smiled. He was right.

Picking up her collecting bag again, Sabine bent and snipped a fruit from the bush at her feet. She clipped another almost before the first hit the bottom of the bag. Her years of experience told her exactly which ones to pick and which to leave on the stem to ripen a day or two longer. In fact, she was one of only a handful of sweetfruit pickers whose bags were never inspected by the field enforcers. Hers could be dumped directly into the processing wagons without waiting in line to go through the conveyor inspection system. It was a big advantage for her. It meant she could pick her daily quota in a shorter period of time. And on a hot day like this one promised to be, it meant finishing earlier to get to the communal shower without waiting in line.

For many field pickers, it seemed life working the fields was mostly about waiting in lines.

It was late afternoon when Sabine finished her last bag; being the first of the pickers out of the field was normal for her.

See you two wastrels back at the center, she hollered at Tesa and Philimi, her two closest friends who were still picking fruit. They both shook their fists to indicate displeasure at getting beat by her yet again. She laughed and climbed aboard a hauler wagon headed for the storage warehouses and worker’s facilities.

Several minutes later, the hauler pulled up next to one of the warehouses and Sabine jumped off. She immediately made her way to the communal shower paddock that was located on the far side of the warehouse complex. It was enclosed by a ten-foot-high wooden fence. On the left side of a tall center divider, there were ten shower stations, each accommodating four girls. On the other side of the divider, a similar number for males. At any one time, there were over two hundred female pickers in the field, not to mention another forty or so water carriers and an equal number of sorters and weed hoers. When work was done, the lines at the shower paddock got extremely busy. Being one of the first back to the workers facilities was a huge blessing.

She walked through the L-shaped entrance to the girls dressing area, quickly peeled off her brown sackcloth dress, tossed it into a large hamper, and selected a fresh dress from those hanging on a rack. Putting it on a wall peg, she slipped off her mulsker-skin sandals and headed into the shower room. There, she turned on the water at the closest station and stepped underneath the stream. The cool water felt great, and she luxuriated under it for a few moments, letting it course over her hot, tanned skin.

After washing away the day’s accumulation of sweat and grime, she returned to the dressing room. When she looked to the peg where she’d hung her dress, she spotted a white gerrynyth flower tucked into one of the pockets. A quick search of the small room assured her there was no one around. She pulled the delicate flower from the pocket and put it to her nose. The sweet smell of vanilla still lingered within the soft folds of the petals. She felt a shiver climb up her spine.

Iwan must have done it. He must have gotten back from the orchards early today. The brazen boy. Dressing quickly, she tucked the flower behind an ear, and made for the dining hall. When she finished extra early like today, she liked to check in on her mother at the dining hall kitchen. Her mother didn’t seem well this morning, again, and Sabine was more than a bit worried.

As she walked out of the paddock, Philimi came walking toward her, leading several other pickers. Almost beat you today, the gangly girl said with a smile and then cocked her head. Flower in your ear? Who’s got a boyfriend?

Jealous? Sabine shot back.

In truth, most all the girls had boyfriends, but the system frowned on the practice. Faeries thought having too many humans around was not a good thing, and so, native society was constructed to make liaisons between the sexes difficult. Marriage was possible—her parents did it—but it was a long and laborious process to get approval. She laughed to herself. Making the system so hard only promoted clandestine affairs and the likelihood of unwanted human children even higher. Dumb faeries. Don’t realize that? She and Iwan were careful, but anything could happen. If it did, it would be bad news. The leprechauns would take her out of the fields where she earned the most credits, which would put more pressure on her mother to provide for them. Not a good thing. 

Those foreboding possibilities aside, her thoughts drifted once again to Iwan. She felt her heart race. Maybe he was already at the dining hall. As she rounded a corner of the building, she almost ran into a mounted rider. It was Pasale, the leprechaun field overseer. Whoa there, missy. Where are you going in such a hurry?

She attempted to walk around him, but he maneuvered the horse into her path. Please, let me by, she said, glaring up at him.

You needn’t be in such a hurry. They won’t start serving for another half an hour. She put her hands on her hips and gave him the evil eye. Have you ever ridden a horse? he asked out of the blue.

Yes. Now may I pass, please?

Why don’t you give me your hand, and I’ll pull you up. We can take a nice little jaunt around the campgrounds.

I don’t think so, she replied.

You know, you should be nicer to me. His voice had taken on an edge. My uncle manages the assignments roster for the entire district, and it would only take a word from me to see you put to work in the refuse pits, or better yet, to see your mother put there.

Working the pits was the foulest duty on the farms. All refuse (animal, human, and plant) was collected and recycled through the pit facilities. It was hot, hard work, and the stench never seemed to leave the nose or the body. Pit workers were outcasts in many respects. They even had their own dormitory. If Pasale put her or her mother in the pits, they’d never get to see each other again.

She didn’t know what to say, but fortune smiled on her, so she didn’t have to. Pasale, there you are. It was the voice of Erith, the warehousing overseer. He had just ridden up behind them. Your field wagons are queueing up and need supervision for unloading. I need you over there right away.

Pasale grimaced. On my way. As he turned his horse to ride off, he winked at Sabine. Another time. Perhaps soon. Hope you enjoy the flower.

Sabine’s mouth dropped open. Was he the one who put the flower in my pocket? The idea he’d come into the shower made her skin crawl. Had he done more than just stick the flower in her dress? Had he peeked around the corner while she bathed? The thought almost made her gag. She pulled the flower from behind her ear and tossed it on the ground. He was getting bolder. It wouldn’t be long before he’d find a way to get her alone, and then what would she do? She couldn’t report him; there was no one to report him to. The leprechauns had full control of the work and the workers in the field. True, they were hired by merrows to do the overseeing, but the merrows didn’t really seem to care how the work got done as long as it did. And the leprechauns were good at getting others to do work for them. Real good.

She felt trapped, just like her mother who had worked in the kitchens for years. Sabine couldn’t remember her being anywhere else. If you were a native working in the farm belt, you had no way out. Humans, born of humans in this world of faeries, occupied the lowest strata of indigenous peoples in all of Tir fo Thuinn. They had no higher power to submit grievances to. None.

Sabine suddenly felt very vulnerable...and very angry.

Chapter 2

W hat’s wrong, Sabine ? The question came from Tesa. The three friends were waiting in line by the dining room long tables.

Nothing, Sabine said dourly as she watched her mother struggle with another huge bowl of boiled potatoes she was hauling in from the kitchen. Sabine wanted to help but knew she couldn’t. If the kitchen overseer didn’t think her mother could perform all the chores required of kitchen workers, she’d transfer her to some other position. Sabine knew what that other position would likely be: the refuse pits.

Is it your mother? Tesa asked, not taking nothing for an answer.

Sabine nodded. She can’t keep doing this, and she knows it. She barely sleeps at night anymore, worrying what will happen to me if she gets sent away. I—I don’t know what to do.

She needs to get away from farm work, Philimi said. You both do.

Great idea, Sabine replied with more than a bit of sarcasm. And exactly how do you propose I make that happen?

You know how.

I’m not going to do that.

"You say it like you have a choice. And I guess if you don’t care what happens to your mother, it’s