Section 2: A Proper Job

A new day dawned.

What woke Annan was no longer a damp, chilly shed, but bright sunlight spilling across his bed.

He slipped out from under the old but warm quilt, and the cool morning air chased away his drowsiness.

The young man in the next bed had slept soundly since coming home the night before. Sunlight through the window warmed one side of his backside until he shifted a little, only for the rising sun to catch him again.

For the next few minutes, he dodged the sunlight in his sleep. Then he rolled off the edge of the bed with a dull thud.

The young man got up as if this were his usual alarm clock, making Annan's surprise seem like an overreaction.

He looked at Annan, who was now awake, and said something brief. When Annan didn't respond, he patted his chest and repeated the word. "Martin."

Guessing that the young man was giving his name, Annan pointed to himself. "Annan."

"Anna?" Martin muttered. "Sounds like a girl's name."

Annan understood only the first part and corrected his pronunciation. "It's Annan."

"Shianna?"

After spending several dozen seconds teaching Martin his name and how to pronounce it, Annan followed him out of the bedroom as Martin finished dressing.

In the yard, Aunt Susan had just hung some washed pajamas on the clothesline. She stroked the fabric's soft nap while murmuring something. Annan guessed she was admiring the workmanship.

Martin, who had discovered that teaching Annan words was fun, pointed at the woman. "This is Aunt Susan."

"This is Aunt Susan."

Annan greeted the woman as she turned to him in delighted surprise. Then she pulled him into her broad arms and corrected how he addressed her.

Aunt Susan gently told Annan that he could stay there as long as he liked. He didn't understand the words, but he could feel the kindness in them.

Over the next few days, Annan had little else to do but stay with Aunt Susan's family, learn the language of this world, and help with whatever chores he could manage.

Aunt Susan handled the household finances and all the housework. Uncle Holin was a woodcutter who left for the forest before sunrise and returned in the afternoon. Martin spent his mornings chopping previously felled wood into firewood to sell, then went to work at a tavern in the evening and came home late at night.

Learning a language meant interacting often, so Aunt Susan's family made the perfect teachers.

Martin wasn't an adult yet, though he looked like a young man in his twenties. He was healthy and strong, having inherited Aunt Susan's sturdy build, but he wasn't very bright... It was as if the Creator had used too much strength while making him and skimped on intelligence to compensate.

Uncle Holin wasn't as quiet and withdrawn as he looked, and his bond with Aunt Susan was far better than Annan had imagined. The difference in their builds hadn't stopped them from bringing Martin, the fruit of their love, into the world.

Aunt Susan liked Annan. She liked him so much that she sometimes treated him better than Martin. Worried he might be kidnapped, she told him, "Bad people like pretty boys like you best," and had him rub ashes on his skin to make it look rough and dull.

Survival was the best teacher.

A week had passed since Annan joined the household, and he could already manage simple conversations. That day, he and Martin were chopping wood outside the woodshed, each at his own pile. But the rough axe handle had scraped his palm raw over the past two days, so he worked slowly. When Aunt Susan came to check on them, his stack of split logs was still small.

"It's all right, dear. You need more rest..." Aunt Susan blew gently on Annan's palm, then turned and shouted at Martin, "You damned jackass! How are you still not done?"

"Why are you only yelling at me..."

"Annan's never done this before. You've been chopping wood for almost ten years!"

Fortunately, they had some older firewood ready. Annan accompanied Martin to the market to sell what they had chopped.

"Sometimes I think you're Aunt Susan's child, not me," Martin muttered gloomily.

"Why do you call her Aunt Susan too?"

"She thinks I'm too stupid. She'd be embarrassed to call me her son."

"What about Uncle Holin?"

"He doesn't want people thinking Aunt Susan isn't his wife."

It was a touching story of steadfast love, though a sad one for Martin.

"Are you laughing?" Martin turned around, the bundle of firewood on his back.

Annan quickly hid his smile. "No. I don't understand."

At the market, Martin stood by the street selling firewood, while Annan took in the bustling stalls and the customs of this world.

A regular customer bought their firewood: about fifty pounds of split oak heartwood for twenty copper coins. On the way back, Annan told Martin, "I want to find some work."

"Then you can come work with me at the tavern."

Annan pieced together what Martin meant. When they told Aunt Susan back home, she worried that Annan wouldn't understand what people said.

"He just needs to carry drinks and clear tables." Martin thumped his chest and promised to look after Annan.

"All right..."

Having another person in the house had indeed made money a little tight.

That evening, Martin came home with good news. "Mr. Faster said I should bring you over tomorrow morning."

Warm morning sunlight filled the street, and the scent of wheat drifted from a bakery nearby.

Annan followed Martin to the Dawn Tavern.

Few people in town liked visiting taverns during the day, so few taverns opened before evening.

Inside the dim tavern, chairs sat upside down on the tables, and the smell of alcohol had soaked into every piece of wood.

"Mr. Faster, we're here!"

Mr. Faster was a middle-aged man with long, messy brown hair. He looked unkempt, wore a pair of tall boots, and carried a rapier at his waist.

He studied Annan, pausing at his black hair and dark eyes. "I don't remember anyone in Pinglin Town having black hair."

"He's my distant cousin!" Martin blurted out.

"...Hmph."

Faster narrowed his amber eyes but didn't expose Martin's clumsy lie. "Six in the evening until midnight. One silver coin a week. Any tips customers give you are yours to keep. Evelyn will tell you what else to do when you come in tonight, or you can ask Martin."

"Why do I only get seventy copper coins?" Martin asked, realizing his own wages were lower.

"You're too ugly."

Annan had passed the interview without a hitch. To celebrate, Aunt Susan bought some meat and made him a hearty lunch.

After lunch, as they relaxed through the pleasant afternoon, Aunt Susan worried about Annan's new job and patiently gave him instructions.

"He might make mistakes at the tavern..."

"I'll look after him."

"If you see him sneaking food or arguing with a customer... tell him that's wrong."

"Leave it to me."

"That's wonderful! Thank you, dear Annan."

Annan, now entrusted with this important task, said shyly, "You're too kind."

"Oh... I'm still worried..." Aunt Susan sighed, picked up a broom, and headed toward Martin, who was still clearing the table. "Martin!"

At dusk, Annan and Martin arrived at the Dawn Tavern.

They went in through the back door. Annan tied on an apron in the kitchen and began his first job in this world.