Broken

Goro sat staring at his potter's wheel. A tiny misshapen lump of clay sat there, unmoving. He needed to start spinning the wheel before the clay dried too much, but his heart just wasn't in it. Not after last night. He shouldn't let his feelings interfere with his work. His wife really needed the money they would earn today, and no one would come into his potter's shop if they couldn't hear the wheel turning. He could already hear a few people moving around the street. Nolan, his nephew and apprentice would be here soon. Nolan, the boy with the unfortunate name. Nolan, born right before the lailani became a bad word. Nolan who was just a little too old to have his name changed when the schism came. But, the kid wasn't really the problem, just a reminder.

The door creaked, signalling Goro to kick the wheel into motion just as Nolan walked in. "Good morning, Uncle," the boy was cheerful this morning. All the more annoying. Goro nodded to him as the boy headed out the back door to the kiln. Hands moving quickly, Goro rapidly formed the clay into a bowl. Popping the bowl off the wheel, he grabbed another tiny lump of clay. Normally he had 5 bowls done by this time. It didn't really matter though, Nolan could make up the difference later. Goro was starting the second bowl when Nolan came back in with an armful of yesterdays bowls and pots. Goro watched offhandedly as the boy arranges the items on the shelves. It's getting harder and harder to tell which items were made by Nolan. He was going to need a new apprentice soon, Nolan was going to be with him much longer.

Ril had wanted to be his apprentice. No, his name was Rilan now, if he was even still alive. Rilan was a good kid. He'd had an abundance of the qualities the apprentice needed. And, he even had steady hands and an eye for detail. Nolan was good, but Rilan could have been great. Could have.

Splat.

Both Goro and Nolan gave the wheel a startled look. It was empty of course, the walls nearby were holding the wet-clay pieces of what should have been a bowl. It had been over 20 years since Goro had splattered anything. Nearly 30 years since he'd failed at making something so simple as a bowl.

"Uh, I'll clean it up," Nolan volunteered hesitantly, "Why don't you... uh..."

"You do that," Goro replied, "it's about time for me to start up the kiln anyway."

"Um... Master Uncle, I uh... usually uh..." Nolan stuttered uncertainly.

"I'll do it," Goro said, once again using force than he intended. Trying to calm down a bit, he continued, "Just get the place cleaned up, Mrs. Wilma will be in here soon. I heard her son break another jar last night."

"Sadrew is too clumsy, I don't know why Mrs. Wilma even lets him touch anything." Nolan tried to lighten the mood, Goro narrowed his eyes, and the boy quickly realised today wasn't a good idea to point out clumsiness. "But at least it means she's always buying new jars and stuff," Nolan tried to change the subject.

"Hummph," Goro replied, as he headed out the back door. Wiping his clay-stained hands on his apron, he grabbed a bucket of manure and headed to the kiln. Hardwood was expensive and rare, so most of the heat was generated from burning manure and straw. It was cheap, but it stunk, and the fire had to be feed nearly constantly. Nolan had devised a chute system that allowed the fire to feed it self for a while. But is wasn't good enough to keep the kiln going all night. So, a new fire had to be started every morning.

The sun was just coming up as Goro mechanically dumped buckets of manure in the chute. It filled way too quickly, but Goro didn't notice. Putting the bucket down, he turned the crank once to dispense some manure into the kiln and knelt down to light it. But, there wasn't any manure in the kiln. Instead, there was a small misshapen clay bowl. Taking it out, Goro looked at it in wonder. It looked familiar, but Goro couldn't remember who had made it. Turning it upside down, he noticed a name written in tiny letters R-I-L.

It was the bowl Rilan had made when he Goro was testing to see if he could be a good apprentice. Rilan must have put it there last night before the... unpleasantness.

Goro thought back to that night. He had stayed at the shop late to finish up a large jug order, when a knock had sounded on the back door. It was Rilan and his mother, seeking asylum from the city guards who had somehow discovered they were lailani. He had refused, even knowing they had nowhere else to go, even knowing the guards would probably kill them. He had refused because he valued his precious shop more highly than their lives. He had refused because he didn't want to risk his business or reputation. He signed their death sentence because the guards that came later would have wrecked his wares if he had hidden them. But now, his shop was just an empty reminder of what he had done.

"Um uncle," Goro startled at the sudden noise. Nolan and Goro watched together as Rilan's bowl slipped out of his hands and fell to the ground. Crash. It shattered.

"Someone's here to see you," Nolan continued, "I'll clean that mess up too. Where did you get the dumb looking bowl? Oh well, it will probably be more useful in pieces anyway."

"And I'm sure that's how the scientists see Rilan," Goro mumbled under his breath.

The End.