* * *
“Oi! Oi, you!”
Sensing that the words were being directed at him, Faris looked up from the heavy leather wallet he had been working on. It was the first time he had moved in a while and his neck cricked sharply as he did so.
As his eyes adjusted from his work, Faris saw Mrs Ladle, the Foundation’s housekeeper and cook, trundling her expansive figure across the workroom towards him. He swallowed nervously.
She came to rest in front of him, her large belly wobbling for a few moments after her feet had stopped moving, giving her a squishy, jelly-like appearance. But, there was nothing remotely soft or sweet about Mrs Ladle: she was as mean as Mister Grimbaldi and crueller than Gamage, if that were possible.
“I’ve got a job for you,” she grunted, “pigs need feeding and mucking out. You’re a big lad, you need the exercise.”
Faris didn’t even think about arguing.
The pig raised its snuffling nose in his direction and gave a disinterested snort.
“Yeah, I know. Why would you understand? You’re just a pig.” Faris shook his head.
I must be crazy talking to animals.
Mrs Ladle’s screech split the air of the silent courtyard. His head snapped up as a shiver of fear went sliding down his backbone. Faris dumped the rest of the food into the trough as quickly as he could and ran back towards the Foundation kitchen. No one wanted to be accused of being lazy at Grimbaldi’s – bad things seemed to happen soon after boys stopped being useful any more.