Free Little Girl Lost by Tristan J. Tarwater Page A

pieces,” said the albino, looking over at her placard to make sure this was the case. “Though I must say, you seem to go through servants rather quickly.” He left the statement at that, not bothering to elaborate or question, much to Tavera’s hidden terror.
    “Well, I run a successful business and I can’t tolerate insolence or incompetence. They run away, the lazy beasts! She seems sure enough.” The old woman counted out five coins. Tavera’s dark eyes grew wide at the sight of the money and the idea she was worth that much. She had gone for four fullies last time and that had been for two whole seasons. The albino pulled the placard off from around Tavera’s neck. His fingers were cold on her neck and he tossed the piece of wood into a pile with a few others, not bothering to help the girl down from the box.
    “She’s all yours,” he said, not bothering to say goodbye to either the girl or the woman, instead turning his attention to another potential customer. This one a large, armored fellow with a booming voice. Tavera stepped off the box as daintily as she could, curtsying before the old woman named Madame Greswin.
    “Ah well, this is well and good, at least you’ve picked up manners somewhere.” The woman hooked her bony arm through Tavera’s, pulling her through the loosely packed crowd of people and onto the chilly city street. “I’m Madame,” the old woman squawked. Madame Greswin walked as if her legs were not the same length and Tavera was having a difficult time keeping her feet. “But you may call me Auntie Greswin if you like. I don’t have many rules. Do as you’re told and work hard and you’ll do well under my roof. I cannot tolerate lying, laziness, insolence or stealing. I am a well-respected member of this city and I won’t have you sullying my good name or business.”
    Tavera wasn’t sure if asking a question fell under the category of “insolence,” but her curiosity got the best of her and she managed to force her mouth to form a few words. “But Ma’am, I mean, Auntie Greswin, if you don’t mind me asking…what exactly is your business?”
    “You don’t know me?” the woman asked, astonishment bringing her voice to a high shriek that made a few people turn. She cackled again, pulling Tavera closer to her. The reek of old sweat and spices tingled in the little girls nose as she cringed.
    “You’re in luck, little girl. I am Madame Greswin, the maker of the finest sausages in the city of Fenwick.”
 
    All winter, Tavera worked for Madame Greswin. She was expected to wake up before first light and open the back door to let the butcher’s apprentice in with the delivery of meat for the day. The packages were to be opened and sorted through: fat, meat, organs, bones. The meat and organs had to be separated by freshness, the best parts put in one wooden tub while the greener, nastier bits were stored in another. The bones were boiled down and the tripe rinsed in flat ale delivered by the brewer. Then Tavera cleaned the store front, work area and the small room where the old woman slept, a room whose only furniture was a bed, a table and a brazier. Tavera slept in the work area by the fireplace. She had to stoke the fire in the morning and tend to it in the evening.
    Madame Greswin treated the half-elf girl fairly well. She gave her clear instructions and Tavera learned to ask for clarification if she didn’t understand what was being asked of her or risk being called lazy or insolent. The punishment was a lash with a long, thin cane the old woman always seemed to have within arm’s reach. The spices and combination of salts, vegetable juices and meats were a closely guarded secret, which was fine with the little girl. She was more interested in the end result than the making. The fire had to be hot enough but the water not too hot and there was a room where the woman cured long links of fat, greasy sausages.
    The days alternated between making sausages and