The Silence of Numikès: Book Six of The Shattered Moon
For the first time in the history of the Known Lands, the house of Apstone presents a novel written by a slave.
Numikès belongs to the 'liberal' house of Arkenshaw; Lady Telfrid is a niece of Numi’s owner. But when Telfrid picks Numikès to carry secret messages, it precipitates a chain of events beyond anything they could have imagined. Forced to navigate the expectations of others, they discover new truths about the world and about themselves, and venture to places they’d never thought they’d see.
For the first time in the history of the Known Lands, the house of Apstone presents a novel written by a slave.
Numikès belongs to the 'liberal' house of Arkenshaw; Lady Telfrid is a niece of Numi’s owner. But when Telfrid picks Numikès to carry secret messages, it precipitates a chain of events beyond anything they could have imagined. Forced to navigate the expectations of others, they discover new truths about the world and about themselves, and venture to places they’d never thought they’d see.
A Brief Sample
“She’s awake, m’lady, but she hasn’t said a word.”
“Is she cut, then?”
“Not so far’s I can see, m’lady.”
Numikès simply felt too tired for speech. And then she wondered if speaking had ever gained her anything.
"I suppose, then, you’ve no idea where she’s from?"
"She were wearing this when she were found, m’lady." The slave held up what had to be her dress… The shreds of my dress, Numi corrected herself.
"That looks like Arkenshaw colours." The lady addressed herself to Numikès. "Is that where you’re from, girl?"
She should have spoken, she knew, but her lips, her tongue, her throat, all seemed frozen; as numb as her limbs had been when they found her half-dead on the shingle, when her fingers had had to be prised from the branch she had clung to all through that dreadful night. A single nod was all she could manage. She was so tired… Tired, and chilled bone-deep though she lay under plump soft coverings, and sore; she thought that the marks of Lordship’s hands on her arms would be lost now amid all the other cuts and scrapes and bruises.
“Well, I doubt she’ll be fit to be moved for a few days yet. I’ll write to Arkenshaw and let them know we have her.” The lady moved round so Numi could see her; hard to tell, lying down as she was, if she was tall or short but she had a round dark face, hair plainly scraped back, a dress without ornamentation beyond a bit of lace on the bodice, light pleating at the shoulders. She sounded like one of the Quality, but hardly looked the part. “I have to ask you, girl, did you run away?”
Numi shook her head. I’d taken drink, more’n I was used to, and I was standing by the river, just standing there, and I’spose the bank just collapsed. The words would not come out; she was so tired.
"Hm. She seems to be mute, poor thing."
Mute, she thought.
“She’s awake, m’lady, but she hasn’t said a word.”
“Is she cut, then?”
“Not so far’s I can see, m’lady.”
Numikès simply felt too tired for speech. And then she wondered if speaking had ever gained her anything.
"I suppose, then, you’ve no idea where she’s from?"
"She were wearing this when she were found, m’lady." The slave held up what had to be her dress… The shreds of my dress, Numi corrected herself.
"That looks like Arkenshaw colours." The lady addressed herself to Numikès. "Is that where you’re from, girl?"
She should have spoken, she knew, but her lips, her tongue, her throat, all seemed frozen; as numb as her limbs had been when they found her half-dead on the shingle, when her fingers had had to be prised from the branch she had clung to all through that dreadful night. A single nod was all she could manage. She was so tired… Tired, and chilled bone-deep though she lay under plump soft coverings, and sore; she thought that the marks of Lordship’s hands on her arms would be lost now amid all the other cuts and scrapes and bruises.
“Well, I doubt she’ll be fit to be moved for a few days yet. I’ll write to Arkenshaw and let them know we have her.” The lady moved round so Numi could see her; hard to tell, lying down as she was, if she was tall or short but she had a round dark face, hair plainly scraped back, a dress without ornamentation beyond a bit of lace on the bodice, light pleating at the shoulders. She sounded like one of the Quality, but hardly looked the part. “I have to ask you, girl, did you run away?”
Numi shook her head. I’d taken drink, more’n I was used to, and I was standing by the river, just standing there, and I’spose the bank just collapsed. The words would not come out; she was so tired.
"Hm. She seems to be mute, poor thing."
Mute, she thought.
