any. But Lady help you if you ever answer to one when the nobles call.”
Darin turned to look at Kerren. Lady? he mouthed.
Kerren shrugged.
“We’ll lose a few of you,” Korven continued, her voice matter-of-fact, and more chilling because of it. “It always happens.
But the number we lose depends entirely on how you adjust to your new life here.” She glanced at Peggy. “You, dear, will have light duties for the time. You’re well along?”
Peggy nodded miserably. She rarely spoke now.
“Good.” Korven shrugged. “Pregnancy is one of the few occasions when a doctor’s summoned for slaves.”
From there she had proceeded to assign the slaves to “partners,” people who knew the duties their lives depended on learning. Darin drew Stev.
Stev was surprising. He was tall, almost two feet taller than Darin. But he was also thin; his arms and legs looked like sticks with gnarled knobs at the joints. His hair was a thatch of barely kempt red, and his pale face was dotted with brown freckles. His coloring was not what surprised Darin, although in itself it was unusual.
It was his demeanor. He always had a grin to spare, and words of cheer and support came freely from his laughing mouth. He picked up a bucket and a damp rag, and motioned for Darin to follow. Bemused, Darin did as he asked, occasionally glancing over his shoulder to see if the masters were watching. They weren’t, but Stev also had an uncanny sense for their presence.
“You’ll learn it.” He chuckled. “They’ve a chill about them when they come.” He looked down at his young charge. “You’ve done this before?”
Darin looked down at his feet.
“Well, never mind it; you’ll learn soon enough, and with me as a teacher, I’m sure you’ll do yourself proud.” He picked up the rag and walked down toward the doors. “Outer brass is most important; it’s got to shine like the sun, or somebody pays. Don’t forget it; what other people see of the house had better be all spit and polish.” He began to whistle a light tune as he brought the rag to the door fixtures. “Hmmm. Can you reach this? No? Well, you might have to carry a stool with you, at least for the first few years; you’re small, but they won’t take it into account.”
Darin watched in silence.
“Darin,” Stev said, lowering the rag for a moment, “they didn’t cut out your tongue, did they?”
“No.”
“Then don’t be so gloomy.”
Gloomy? Darin wanted to shout. His face paled, then took on a rosy color that had nothing to do with the warmth of the rising sun. “Gloomy?” He rolled up his sleeve, exposing the
pale mark of Damion to the light. “Bright Heart, how can you be so-”
Stev shoved the damp rag into Darin’s trembling mouth. His green eyes were wide, and he wheeled around, his gaze searching the empty courtyard.
“Never say that,” he whispered. “Never say that here. They’ll kill you for it without a second thought—even if slaves are expensive. Understand?” He gripped Darin’s shoulders and kneeled down until their eyes were on a level.
Darin spat out the rag, choking slightly on the soapy water that trickled down his suddenly tight throat. Tears welled up in the corners of his eyes.
Stev sighed, his lanky frame relaxing. He still held the shoulders of his young charge as he began to speak more softly. “Darin, this is the Empire of Veriloth. We’d heard rumors of your arrival and we knew what it meant.” A rare shadow darkened his eyes. “But it’s happened. You’re still alive. This Heart that you evoked—it didn’t help you. Don’t call it here. Never think it here. You’re too young to die for something as trivial as that.” He began to whistle again as he released Darin and bent to retrieve the rag.
Darin tried to watch what he did, but the tears blurred everything.
“See how it gleams?” Stev asked.
Darin shook his head.
Stev sighed for the second time. “Darin, if you’ve got to pray to someone, pray
Darin turned to look at Kerren. Lady? he mouthed.
Kerren shrugged.
“We’ll lose a few of you,” Korven continued, her voice matter-of-fact, and more chilling because of it. “It always happens.
But the number we lose depends entirely on how you adjust to your new life here.” She glanced at Peggy. “You, dear, will have light duties for the time. You’re well along?”
Peggy nodded miserably. She rarely spoke now.
“Good.” Korven shrugged. “Pregnancy is one of the few occasions when a doctor’s summoned for slaves.”
From there she had proceeded to assign the slaves to “partners,” people who knew the duties their lives depended on learning. Darin drew Stev.
Stev was surprising. He was tall, almost two feet taller than Darin. But he was also thin; his arms and legs looked like sticks with gnarled knobs at the joints. His hair was a thatch of barely kempt red, and his pale face was dotted with brown freckles. His coloring was not what surprised Darin, although in itself it was unusual.
It was his demeanor. He always had a grin to spare, and words of cheer and support came freely from his laughing mouth. He picked up a bucket and a damp rag, and motioned for Darin to follow. Bemused, Darin did as he asked, occasionally glancing over his shoulder to see if the masters were watching. They weren’t, but Stev also had an uncanny sense for their presence.
“You’ll learn it.” He chuckled. “They’ve a chill about them when they come.” He looked down at his young charge. “You’ve done this before?”
Darin looked down at his feet.
“Well, never mind it; you’ll learn soon enough, and with me as a teacher, I’m sure you’ll do yourself proud.” He picked up the rag and walked down toward the doors. “Outer brass is most important; it’s got to shine like the sun, or somebody pays. Don’t forget it; what other people see of the house had better be all spit and polish.” He began to whistle a light tune as he brought the rag to the door fixtures. “Hmmm. Can you reach this? No? Well, you might have to carry a stool with you, at least for the first few years; you’re small, but they won’t take it into account.”
Darin watched in silence.
“Darin,” Stev said, lowering the rag for a moment, “they didn’t cut out your tongue, did they?”
“No.”
“Then don’t be so gloomy.”
Gloomy? Darin wanted to shout. His face paled, then took on a rosy color that had nothing to do with the warmth of the rising sun. “Gloomy?” He rolled up his sleeve, exposing the
pale mark of Damion to the light. “Bright Heart, how can you be so-”
Stev shoved the damp rag into Darin’s trembling mouth. His green eyes were wide, and he wheeled around, his gaze searching the empty courtyard.
“Never say that,” he whispered. “Never say that here. They’ll kill you for it without a second thought—even if slaves are expensive. Understand?” He gripped Darin’s shoulders and kneeled down until their eyes were on a level.
Darin spat out the rag, choking slightly on the soapy water that trickled down his suddenly tight throat. Tears welled up in the corners of his eyes.
Stev sighed, his lanky frame relaxing. He still held the shoulders of his young charge as he began to speak more softly. “Darin, this is the Empire of Veriloth. We’d heard rumors of your arrival and we knew what it meant.” A rare shadow darkened his eyes. “But it’s happened. You’re still alive. This Heart that you evoked—it didn’t help you. Don’t call it here. Never think it here. You’re too young to die for something as trivial as that.” He began to whistle again as he released Darin and bent to retrieve the rag.
Darin tried to watch what he did, but the tears blurred everything.
“See how it gleams?” Stev asked.
Darin shook his head.
Stev sighed for the second time. “Darin, if you’ve got to pray to someone, pray
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