Modulations

I open my eyes and take a moment to recollect where I am. The ceiling has a familiar pattern of soot tracing down to the tiny fireplace; this my room at the inn. Standing, I walk to the chipped washbasin and peer into the dully polished piece of bronze that serves as a mirror. Pirra's face looks back at me, narrow and tired, wrinkles forming near the eyes, framed by dull straight brown hair that ends at the shoulders. She has the look of someone who has lived a life of physically taxing work. I don't like her; the eyes don't shine.

Turning, I walk the length of the room to the drop box by the door. It's about eight paces, this room really is entirely too small. I don't need a lot of space, I only sleep and change here, but it still irks me that the only space in this town that I can call mine is practically a small pantry. The drop box has a dense, seedy loaf of bread in it, which I pull out and break in half to retrieve the waxed envelope inside. I raise one of the halves of the loaf to my mouth and take a bite, feeling the grains and seeds split between my teeth. The loaf is still warm and aromatic, the almost beer smell of its leavening filling my nostrils, as well as the slightly sweet scent of metabolic catalyst.

I continue to eat as I open the envelope and read my template. Waist length auburn hair, grey eyes, button nose, late teens, Glenna. This is a new girl, and there are details that I will have to fill in on my own. I take my time finishing the bread, picturing Glenna with my mind's eye. She's shorter than Pirra, and her shoulders are more narrow. Laying down on my straw stuffed mattress, I try to get comfortable. A stubborn, stiff piece of straw is stabbing my side and I smash it back into submission with a balled-up fist, causing the bed's frame to protest with a creak. Closing my eyes I focus on Glenna, my body grows hot, I can feel my bones creaking and complaining as they compress and twist. Hair pushes out of my head and a ringing fills my ears. It is a decidedly uncomfortable experience.

My body stops complaining and begins to cool down. Shaking slightly, I swing my legs over the side of the bed and gently set my feet down on the rough wooden planks of the floor. They find a splinter and I let out an undignified yelp. Cradling my foot, I extract the offending piece of wood and toss it into the fireplace. I peer over the side of the bed, looking for any indications that the floor will mount another assault on my freshly re-formed nerve endings. Satisfied there are no tiny assassins where I plan to put my feet, I plant them once more and stand. A vague feeling of vertigo washes over me as I try to adjust to my new height.

With cautious steps, I make my way back over to the mirror and Glenna smiles back at me, her eyes dancing. My work dress is too big now and not really what a girl my age would find appealing to wear. I teeter over to my trunk and rummage around until I find something more suitable for my new form. I settle on a light brown dress made of a practical, sturdy material with elbow length sleeves. Discarding the frumpy dark brown dress I had been wearing, I pull the new dress over my head and fasten the buttons down the front. The dress fits quite well, and hem of the dress falls to mid-calf, just long enough to be modest. I am delighted that I won't have to play seamstress all morning.

The door to my room creaks as I open it, drawing the attention of the inkeeper, Bram. He looks me over and nods approvingly. We've been working together long enough that I know that he won't have any additional instructions. I nod back, smiling, and head out the door to the street.