hair stepped forward and curtseyed graciously.
'Welcome, your grace,' she said in near flawless Glaeban. 'If you will follow me, please? The Lady Chintara is expecting you.'
Arkady inclined her head and followed the older woman, looking around with open curiosity as she walked through the palace seraglium. Although similar in its construction and decor, the royal seraglium was much larger and emptier than Arkady's quarters at the ambassador's palace and seemed much quieter as a result. It was also staffed — somewhat to her surprise — with the occasional male servant.
'There are men here,' she couldn't help remarking, after walking past one room where a tall and quite pleasant-looking young man, was holding forth to a group of young women seated on the floor around him, on a topic Arkady could only guess at, given they were speaking Torlenian.
'The men are blinded before being allowed to take up service in the seraglium,' the woman informed her, as if such a thing was an everyday occurrence. 'And castrated.'
'A man has to be a blind eunuch to work here?' Arkady smiled. 'I'm guessing you don't have too many volunteers.'
Her escort was not amused. 'On the contrary, your grace. To serve in the royal seraglium is an honour without peer. We select only the most worthy applicants.'
'Forgive me,' she said, wishing she'd kept her opinion to herself. Some diplomat's wife you'll make, Arkady. 'I did not mean to give offence.'
'I am but a slave, your grace. It is not possible to offend me.'
Arkady was quite sure that wasn't the case, but she was more interested in the woman's status as a slave. Human slavery in Glaeba was rare. 'Are there many human slaves in Torlenia?'
'Quite a number,' the woman replied, looking at Arkady curiously. 'Why?'
'In Glaeba, only the Crasii are permitted to be enslaved. We count human life to be more valuable than that of an animal and believe freedom is an inherent right of all men.'
The Torlenian woman frowned as she walked. 'As do we, your grace, but neither do we have slums where the dispossessed and homeless gather for cold comfort while they slowly starve to death on the streets of our wealthiest cities.'
The woman's hostility was astonishing, all the more surprising, given she was a slave. 'What are you implying?' Arkady asked. 'That slavery is your idea of a welfare system?'
'Only the poor, the disenfranchised, those with a debt they cannot meet or a debt to society they must repay are enslaved, your grace,' the woman said as they reached the end of a long tiled hall and stepped into another vast chamber. 'Slavery in Torlenia means these people are cared for, fed, and given an opportunity to redeem themselves through honest hard work. If you wish to call that a welfare system, then I suppose you're right. It may not suit your delicate Glaeban sensibilities, but at least we have a system, which is more than you can say for your country.'
Arkady stopped and stared at the woman, a little appalled at her outburst. Such outspokenness was completely unexpected. Obviously the Torlenian definition of slavery varied a great deal from the Glaeban idea of the practice. Why hadn't Declan warned her about that?
'You'll have to forgive Nitta's passion on the subject of slavery, your grace,' a voice said from behind Arkady. 'She fancies herself something of a champion of injustice and doesn't get nearly enough opportunities to vent her spleen.'
Arkady spun around to find a woman who could only be the Imperator's Consort standing behind her.
'My lady!' she said, bending in a deep curtsey.
As she rose, her first thought was that Lady Jorgan had been right. The Imperator's Consort was foreign. In this land of delicate women, dusky skin and dark eyes she was as tall as Arkady, blue-eyed, blonde and statuesque. She seemed to be about thirty, but her skin was so flawless, it was hard to pinpoint her exact age. Her Glaeban was perfect, her bearing effortlessly elegant, her white, sleeveless gown
'Welcome, your grace,' she said in near flawless Glaeban. 'If you will follow me, please? The Lady Chintara is expecting you.'
Arkady inclined her head and followed the older woman, looking around with open curiosity as she walked through the palace seraglium. Although similar in its construction and decor, the royal seraglium was much larger and emptier than Arkady's quarters at the ambassador's palace and seemed much quieter as a result. It was also staffed — somewhat to her surprise — with the occasional male servant.
'There are men here,' she couldn't help remarking, after walking past one room where a tall and quite pleasant-looking young man, was holding forth to a group of young women seated on the floor around him, on a topic Arkady could only guess at, given they were speaking Torlenian.
'The men are blinded before being allowed to take up service in the seraglium,' the woman informed her, as if such a thing was an everyday occurrence. 'And castrated.'
'A man has to be a blind eunuch to work here?' Arkady smiled. 'I'm guessing you don't have too many volunteers.'
Her escort was not amused. 'On the contrary, your grace. To serve in the royal seraglium is an honour without peer. We select only the most worthy applicants.'
'Forgive me,' she said, wishing she'd kept her opinion to herself. Some diplomat's wife you'll make, Arkady. 'I did not mean to give offence.'
'I am but a slave, your grace. It is not possible to offend me.'
Arkady was quite sure that wasn't the case, but she was more interested in the woman's status as a slave. Human slavery in Glaeba was rare. 'Are there many human slaves in Torlenia?'
'Quite a number,' the woman replied, looking at Arkady curiously. 'Why?'
'In Glaeba, only the Crasii are permitted to be enslaved. We count human life to be more valuable than that of an animal and believe freedom is an inherent right of all men.'
The Torlenian woman frowned as she walked. 'As do we, your grace, but neither do we have slums where the dispossessed and homeless gather for cold comfort while they slowly starve to death on the streets of our wealthiest cities.'
The woman's hostility was astonishing, all the more surprising, given she was a slave. 'What are you implying?' Arkady asked. 'That slavery is your idea of a welfare system?'
'Only the poor, the disenfranchised, those with a debt they cannot meet or a debt to society they must repay are enslaved, your grace,' the woman said as they reached the end of a long tiled hall and stepped into another vast chamber. 'Slavery in Torlenia means these people are cared for, fed, and given an opportunity to redeem themselves through honest hard work. If you wish to call that a welfare system, then I suppose you're right. It may not suit your delicate Glaeban sensibilities, but at least we have a system, which is more than you can say for your country.'
Arkady stopped and stared at the woman, a little appalled at her outburst. Such outspokenness was completely unexpected. Obviously the Torlenian definition of slavery varied a great deal from the Glaeban idea of the practice. Why hadn't Declan warned her about that?
'You'll have to forgive Nitta's passion on the subject of slavery, your grace,' a voice said from behind Arkady. 'She fancies herself something of a champion of injustice and doesn't get nearly enough opportunities to vent her spleen.'
Arkady spun around to find a woman who could only be the Imperator's Consort standing behind her.
'My lady!' she said, bending in a deep curtsey.
As she rose, her first thought was that Lady Jorgan had been right. The Imperator's Consort was foreign. In this land of delicate women, dusky skin and dark eyes she was as tall as Arkady, blue-eyed, blonde and statuesque. She seemed to be about thirty, but her skin was so flawless, it was hard to pinpoint her exact age. Her Glaeban was perfect, her bearing effortlessly elegant, her white, sleeveless gown
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