Chapter 3a: Breakfast with Martha

"It will begin as a single seed and grow among you, hidden from your very eyes. There it will nourish itself and flourish as the flowers in the spring until you realize it is among you, a great harvest. The harvest to end all harvests!"
~Secret Holy Scriptures of the Waken Book

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"Are you using some new type of tea?" Malach said, a frown twisting his mouth as he questioned his wife.

She set a plate of scrambled eggs and buttered bread in front of him, wiped her hands on her apron, and answered, "No, it's the same tea I used yesterday. Why, does it taste bad?"

He set his cup down and scooped eggs onto his fork. "Well... it's just got a funny taste to it is all. A little bitter." He stuffed the eggs into his mouth and chewed.

Martha walked to the cupboard and lifted a canister, grape leaves and squiggly vines painted on the front. All her canisters were decorated with leaves of one sort or another; it was the latest style in kitchenware. She twisted open the canister and sniffed, drawing in a crisp herbal scent. The tea leaves didn't smell odd. She pulled a leaf out and stuck it to her nose, giving it a little pinch to draw out some of the scent, then sniffed again. It smelled fresh to her.

Malach frowned around a mouth full of eggs. "I didn't mean for you to start all that business. I just said the tea tasted odd is all." He pointed at her plate with a fork full of eggs. "Now forget about it and sit down and eat your breakfast. The market is gonna be busy today, and you're gonna need to eat something before we go."

Sighing, she put the canister back, making sure the leaf design faced toward the front. All her containers lined up to form a chain of leaves across the top shelf of the cupboard. She sat down across from Malach but didn't touch her food; instead she lifted her teacup and took a sip. She pursed her lips. "I see what you're talking about. It isn't bad, but it does have a bit of an aftertaste doesn't it? Sort of bitter."

Malach nodded and pointed at her plate with the fork again as he wolfed down a piece of bread. He was always in such a hurry, not listening to a word she said.

"Okay, okay. I'm eating." She stabbed a piece of egg with her fork and brought the pale, yellowed lump to her mouth.

They both ate in silence. Malach was right about a busy day at the market. In two days the festival of Gods Day would occur and people were preparing for a day of feasting, visiting, and giving thanks to whatever diety they happened to pray to. The holiday was created to keep businesses running in the face of well over a dozen temples to different deities within the city. If it weren't for Gods Day creating a common holy time, then every religion would have their own holiday throughout the year and things around the city would be sporadic at best. They would need to be at their little bakery before the sun came up, and they probably wouldn't leave until the sun went down. That was the way it had been their whole twenty-seven years of marriage, and Martha remained sure it would continue on like that for the next twenty-seven years.

Only a few morsels of egg remained and a corner piece of toast when she put her fork down and looked at Malach as he carried his plate and fork to the washing tub, "Maybe it was the water?"

He set his dirty dishes in a large sudsy bowl before turning to her. "What was the water?"

"The tea. Maybe the waters got some sulfur or something in it this morning."

Without much interest he replied, "Yep, I suppose it could be the water. It very well could be."

Following Malach’s example, Martha carried her plate to the wash tub, scraped the uneaten food into a wooden bowl for the neighbor’s chickens, and put her own bowl in the cloudy water. She frowned at the mess, but she would just have to take care of the dishes when they returned at dusk.

She didn’t realize she would never see the inside of her kitchen again.