Dough Boy by Becky James EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Author: Becky James
- Language: English
- Genre: Epic Fantasy
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2.3 MB
- Price: Free
DAWN COMES EARLY TO OBERROT CITY. TRICKLING OVER THE ROOFS
and spires, touching the castle first before sweeping down the city clinging
to the mountainside, the light flowed down the main thoroughfare. The only
people awake enough to properly appreciate it were nightsoil workers and
bakers, Gavain reflected. Dawn felt like a special secret, just for him.
Gavain had been up for several turns of the glass. Working the dough
was a mindless activity, once his body settled into the rhythms of kneading
and shaping, and his mind was free to wander. Today he imagined the
particularly recalcitrant batch of wholemeal dough was a giant, with legs as
thick as the stone walls around the castle. Yesterday it had been a dragon;
the day before that, an ifrit. Gavain loved the old stories and tales, all about
when magic was unshaped and unharnessed, and people from the legendary
lost realm of Earth walked the land, so beautiful that you would fall in love
with them with just one look.
Gavain worked on a long table in the back room, four out of the five
other boys arrayed behind him. They called each other dough boys, and
liked to tease each other with the term. Gavain wished they would try to
tease him, to talk to him, anything, but that never happened.
The door opened; Gavain looked up. Another dough boy, in late. Gavain
bit his lip and looked away from him.
The head baker wasted no time in rushing around the counter and
squaring up to the lad. “Late again! What do you think I run here?” Gomore
demanded.
“A business, sir,” the boy said, turning his cap in his hand.
The baker slapped his hat out of his fist. “A business! A business that
needs workers, workers that are on time every time.”
“I would have, only, my mum was sleep walking again, and—”
Gavain felt a sick sense of repetition, of seeing this play out before. He
had been in the boy’s shoes, of course, at the receiving end of the baker’s
ire. Many times.
Gomore bristled. “Get out. I never want to see you ‘round here again.”
“But, sir! What will my ma do?”
The only difference being, of course, that I cannot be fired, Gavain
reflected mournfully.
Having dealt with the latecomer, Gavain’s father Gomore the baker
rounded on the remaining dough boys. “What are you all looking at?”
“Nothing, sir,” they chorused. Out of the corner of his eye, Gavain
watched two nudge each other and share a private smile. He refocused on
his work. They would never do that with him, never tease or talk or share
anything . He might be the son of the baker but he was no tattle tale; he
would not run to his father with their not-so-secret misgivings.
Trying to
prove that was difficult, of course, as hard as getting a loaf to rise with no
yeast, so Gavain pretended not to mind instead.
The door rattled open. Gavain craned his neck over to see. Had the
dough boy come back for more?
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