Soladovia - Part 4 - Training
Herein, Setha-Vim relates a story of paranoia, despair, and the beginning of his life in the city.
ON EQUALITY
"All Named Xithuatlians were equal in our society. We each had a role to play, a purpose, and each was necessary for our society to function. We did not honor a hierarchy - a hunter was not above or below a cook, or a builder, or a storyteller. Each of us was considered the authority over our domain; a scout would not deign to tell a fisher how to set their traps any more than a bird would tell a mouse how to fly.
Even our Elders were no greater than anyone else. Their role was to lead the tribe, to observe us all, to know our needs, and to use the wisdom of their many years to benefit the tribe, but they were not considered to be above anyone else. They were given no authority beyond what their role required, and we honored their decisions not because a structure of rank dictated that we must, but because we trusted them to perform their role to the best of their ability, just as they trusted us to perform ours. It was through this mutual trust that we lived, and thrived.
We did not fight amongst ourselves, even among Xithuatlians from different tribes. The very idea of it was absurd to us; it was not a conscious decision we had to make - the thought did not even enter our minds... It was simply not done. We had disagreements, of course. Xithuatlians who disagreed with the direction of their tribe were welcome to either join another tribe, or to form their own tribe - in many of these cases, single tribes would split into two, and go separate ways. This was considered healthy for everyone - when a tribe became too large, it was difficult to keep everyone fed and housed, and we had no need for large numbers to maintain our way of life. We did not hold grudges against those who decided to leave.
This also contributed to our ability to maintain good relations with neighboring tribes. Often, our neighbors would be home to former members of our own tribe, and ours would be home to their former members as well. It was because of this that we did not view other tribes as separate groups, but as extensions of ourselves. We were all Xithuatlians."
- Setha-Vim, Tribe and Totem: A Historical Record of Xithuatlian Culture, pg. 14
TRAINING
"Following the incident at the farm, I became increasingly fearful of my collar. Paranoia drove me to fits of shaking when it was time for it to be wound. I would pay meticulous attention as my Master inserted and turned the key, counting the clicking sounds from within the collar, wanting - needing - to be sure that it was being done, and done correctly. It was always the same - one low click, followed by eight higher-pitched ones, then one more low click, and then the key was withdrawn. The next day, it would be the same. And the next, and the next. Like clockwork.
Even so, I could not have stopped counting even if I wanted to - it became a need for me to know. If I miscounted, or even thought I had miscounted, I would have trouble sleeping. I would get the shakes. I would be a mess, until the next day, when I would count again. It became part of my routine. It became an obsession. I had not given it much thought until I had seen its horrible effects first-hand, but once I had, I could not get it out of my head. I wonder sometimes if Daryi-Vel had witnessed something similar. It would have explained his reaction upon first seeing his collar.
After leaving that farm, my second Master put me to work on a much larger one. He owned many other slaves, and we worked to plant, tend and harvest acres upon acres of land. He had buildings specifically to house us, where we slept in bunk beds and ate at large, featureless tables. I tried to talk to the other slaves, and some would engage in brief conversation with me, but we were sent to work mostly in isolation or in small groups, which rotated frequently, and there was not much opportunity to get to know one another. I suspect this was by design, to keep us focused on our tasks, and to not give us the opportunity for friendship or unity. Every night, one of my Master's taskmasters would come to our bunk room. We would all kneel in a line, eyes on the floor, and he would walk the line behind us behind us. One, eight, one. Despite my anxiety, he never missed a day. He was never late. My time there passed uneventfully.
I spent many years on that farm before being sold again. My third Master owned a coal mine. While he was far from the worst Master I have had, the work was easily the most unpleasant. We can see adequately in darkness, but we are ill-suited to being deep underground. Xithuatlians are a stocky species, and we are roughly human-sized. We have horns on our heads, which are at risk of catching on overhead obstructions, like mine props. We have large nostrils, and it was difficult to keep coal dust out of them.
We were given cloth face coverings to help with the dust, and the heat, at least, was pleasant... but I heard from the other slaves there that many do not last long in those black depths. The taskmasters cared little for our safety... it was cheaper to simply replace us than to take measures to save us if we were injured. Tunnel collapses were a constant worry, but even something as simple as a deep gash could prove fatal that deep underground. We heal quickly, but infection can kill us as readily as it can a human, and there were few opportunities to clean and dress a wound.
Every day we would descend into the depths, and we would not be allowed to ascend again until nightfall. We ate only twice a day, and the only water we had was what we could carry with us. We were expected to meet quotas, and when we could not, we were punished. Each day when we climbed up from the mines, before being allowed to rest, we would wait while the taskmaster stopped us, one by one, to wind our collars. One, eight, one. I do not want to think about what happened to those who suffered accidents in the mines, and could not make the climb back out.
I spent a little less than a year working in the mines before I was sold once more. This time, I was put to work in a factory, on an assembly line. We made all manner of things - sometimes furniture, sometimes machinery, sometimes wagons... the factory owner, my Master, would take orders, and we would assemble whatever was required. The work was not difficult, or tiring - merely monotonous, which made it better than any other work I had done. I spent most of my time lost in thought, barely aware of what was happening around me, and the days passed quickly. For his part, my Master was unusually easy on us; as long as the work was done and we did not cause problems, we were left alone in relative peace. Each morning, as we emerged from our quarters onto the factory floor, we had to check in with the foreman, who would see to our collars. One, eight, one. It was all the incentive we needed to adhere to the schedule... We knew the consequences of being late.
Up until that point, the factory was the best place I had been sent to work, and as such I was sorry to hear that, after almost eight years, my Master had chosen to sell it, and with it all of us, to a new owner. Our new Master already had slaves which he intended to use, and so we were sold again. I was sent, for the first time, into a city - and not just any city, but the capital of the entire nation of Soladovia, where I was to be a house slave for a young merchant.
This was an important turning point in my life. Up until then, I had been relegated to being a simple laborer; this was my first view into the life of the more rich and powerful castes in Soladovia. However, before being delivered to my new Master, I was to be trained for this new, higher visibility role. To this end, I was sent to a small compound on the outskirts of the city.
The compound was the temporary home to a small number of Xithuatlian slaves, and many humans whose job it was to prepare us to work for the wealthier members of Soladovian society. Some of the Xithuatlians there were slaves in training, and still others were more permanent residents, slaves tasked with assisting in our training, and in attending to the needs of the humans living there.
When I arrived, I was wearing the iron muzzle, and the shackles on my wrists and ankles were chained together such that I could not lift my hands above my waist; I was limited to walking in short steps. I had become accustomed to this after being sold so many times before... it was how we were always transported. I did not know why they bothered... our collars were a much better deterrent than chains ever could have been... It was simply how things were done.
I was given into the custody of two other Xithuatlians, who brought me through a maze of corridors. It was a slow process, as I could not walk fast in my chains; I tried to talk to them as we walked, but they would not respond. By this point, I had become quite good at speaking while wearing the muzzle, so it was not that they could not understand me. I had become quite proficient with the humans' language, as well, but I thought perhaps they had not yet mastered it, and tried speaking in the Xithuatlian tongue; this drew their attention, but not in the manner I had expected. They stopped walking, and one of them stepped in front of me. Before I could react, she slapped the side of my muzzle hard, snapping my head to the side. I looked at her, wide-eyed... I was not sure what I had done until she spoke to me sternly. "We speak only one language here," she said. "Mind your tongue within this city, else you will lose it." She took hold of the chain between my wrists and tugged me onwards as they resumed walking; I was too shocked to respond. I might have expected such treatment from the humans, but never from a Xithuatlian.
They led me to a large, featureless washroom, and bid me stand in a corner, over a drain in the floor. They pulled a thin chain hanging from the ceiling, and water began to rain down over me from a pipe high above. I flinched when it hit me - I had not expected it; the concept of freely flowing water indoors was completely foreign to me until that point, and I tried to ask how it was possible, but the Xithuatlians ignored me. Using coarse brushes, they scrubbed my scales from head to toe. They were methodical and emotionless as they worked, as though they had done this same thing a hundred times before; they might as well have been washing a piece of meat that they intended to cook for dinner. I stood there uncomfortably as they cleaned years of accumulated grime from my body. It surprised me just how dirty the water washing down the drain at my feet actually was.
I had bathed since being taken as a slave, of course - we were allowed to do so with varying regularity under each of my previous Masters, but it had always been done with water in a barrel, or drawn from a well in a bucket... never like this, and we were never given brushes or sponges - why would we have been, when we were just going to get filthy again the following day? By the time they were satisfied, my scales shone brightly, and I felt truly clean for the first time in years. I had almost forgotten what the true color of my scales was. Even my bronze shackles and my collar shone like new... I might have appreciated their luster more had they not been the means of our oppression.
When they were satisfied, they dried my scales with a towel from a shelf near the door - another luxury I had not had the privilege of enjoying before - and led me once again from the room. As we walked through corridor after corridor, I wondered silently how they could possibly have memorized the twists and turns in this building... The factory was the largest structure I had seen until now, and it was mostly a single large room inside. This was something else entirely. The room they brought me to this time was not what I would have expected. They ushered me inside and closed the door behind me, and I was faced with what was actually three adjoining rooms, all of which were very domestic in nature.
The largest of the three rooms appeared to be a well-furnished living area. It had a number of cushioned chairs, some tables, cabinets and well-stocked shelves. The second room was a small but apparently functional kitchen, complete with nicer looking equipment than I had seen in any of my prior Masters' homes. The third room was a bedchamber, far more simply furnished than the others; from where I stood at the doorway, I could see a small cot complete with blankets and a wash basin. It may sound basic and droll, but as I would come to discover, it was a room for me - my own room, all to myself. This was a luxury unlike anything I had had since being taken from the jungle.
One of the Xithuatlians - a male with lightly-colored red-tinted scales - approached me and, to my surprise, produced a key which he used to remove the chains from my wrists and ankles. I had never seen a slave be given a key to anything before, and especially not to another slave's shackles. He hung the chains from hooks on the wall, beside the door, and then moved behind me, where he also opened the lock securing the muzzle to my face. He pulled it off and hung it beside the chains, leaving me mercifully unencumbered.
Meanwhile, the second Xithuatlian - a female with dark red scales - addressed me. "You will spend the next four weeks here," she said, her voice lacking emotion, as if she were reciting something she had said many times, and was simply bored with. "We will teach you how to behave in the city. Life here is not like what you have become accustomed to; you will obey us as you would your Master, and you will pay attention to what we have to tell you. In four weeks' time, you will demonstrate your mastery of the things we will teach, and you will be sent to your new Master, here in the city. Do you understand?" Her words left no room for objection, no room for failure.
I was taken off-guard by her bluntness. I had spoken to many different slaves while working under my various Masters, but this felt different. These two were not like the others... not merely Xithuatlians who had been uprooted from their homes and their way of life and thrust into a foreign world, trying to get by. These two seemed more like slave-takers, or taskmasters. I had felt a certain kinship with the other Xithuatlians I had met... there had been a mutual, unspoken understanding between us, a sense that we were all simply doing what we had to do to survive. We may not have known one another, but we knew of one another's struggles, and that knowledge bonded us in some small way. I felt no such kinship here.
I nodded my head, but she continued standing there looking at me, clearly expecting a vocal response, so after a short pause, I answered. "Yes... I understand." She seemed satisfied and turned away from me, looking around the room. "You will treat these rooms as you would your Master's House." She gave the word 'House' a special emphasis that I had not heard before; at the time, I did not understand its meaning. I wanted to ask her what it meant, but she did not give me a chance to respond. "The most important thing you will learn here," she continued, "is protocol. It is not enough that you simply do what is expected of you; it is important how you do it. How you stand, how you walk, how you act, how you speak. We will teach you, and you will learn quickly. While you are here, you will treat us as you would treat your Master, and you will be treated in kind. Do you understand?"
Being talked to in this manner by another Xithuatlian made me uncomfortable. It was simply not something we did. It was not something we should do. It shook me, made me uneasy. I had difficulty formulating a response. "Yes...", I said, then hesitated, and asked, "What is your Name?"
She closed the distance between us again, and for the second time that day, she slapped me, hard; this time, her hand struck my snout directly, and it hurt. I flinched back, and lifted my hand to rub at my stinging face, but she slapped me again, this time from the other side, just as hard as the previous one. I reeled, stumbling backwards, and she followed after me, keeping her face only inches from mine. "You will not ask questions," she snapped angrily, "and you will not speak unless you are spoken to. You may call me 'Ma'am', and you may call him 'Sir'," She gestured to the male Xithuatlian, who was standing beside the door, arms folded over his chest. "You will use no other names or titles," she continued. "You will forget what you have been taught, you will forget what you think you know. While you are here, you are ours. Do you understand?"
I stared at her, mouth agape, my face stinging. I had suffered worse pain, of course, and worse treatment... if she had been human, I would have considered this almost gentle. The fact that this was coming from a fellow Xithuatlian, that she apparently looked down on me to such a degree stung worse than the physical pain. Had she forgotten what it was to be a Xithuatlian, or was I simply failing to adapt to changing times, trying to adhere to the customs of a past that would never again be reality? I did not know.
Of course, if she had been human, I would have treated her differently - I would never have tried to be so familiar with her, I would have simply kept silent and done as I was told. This, I realized, was the problem I was facing: I had preconceptions of what Xithuatlians were like, and these two were not living up to them. If I was to get through this, I would have to think of these two like humans, like Masters. "Yes... I understand... Ma'am," I said. It felt very strange to say.
She nodded in approval, though, and turned away from me once more. "You are to be a city slave," she said to me. "Your masters here will be merchants, nobles... important people, with high standards. You will serve in their Houses. You are not merely a slave, but an object in their House, a symbol of their status. How you behave will reflect upon them. Their guests, their business associates, their petitioners will see you; they will judge you. They will judge your Master's control of their House by your actions. If you disappoint them - or worse, embarrass them, you will pay dearly. Do you understand?"
I hesitated. I was not sure I did understand. I had become accustomed to life as a slave... but this was different.
"I... do not understand, Ma'am," I said, and she spun to face me again... I was sure I was about to receive another slap, but instead she simply looked at me and waited. I continued hesitantly after a few moments. "Why me? I am... a laborer. I have worked in fields, in factories... I have never set foot in a city until now."
It was the male Xithuatlian who answered. "How long have you been a slave?" he asked me. I turned to face him, and answered, "Fourteen years, Sir."
He nodded. "Think back to your first Master. No, before that... think back to your training, when you were first taken as a slave. Think how clueless you were. Think about how many times you had to be told how to do something before you understood. How many times you were punished for not moving quickly enough, or not doing something correctly. How long did it take you to learn their language? A month? A year?" He paused, but before I could answer, he continued. "Do you think a noble... someone rich, someone important... do you think they want a slave as headstrong and ignorant as you were then? No. They do not. It is easier to take a slave like you, a slave with experience, and teach you to be a House slave. If you have lived this long, you must have some sense in you."
"Yes. But just as you were clueless back then, you are clueless now - it is just a different kind of clueless." The female Xithuatlian again. "And in just four weeks, we will make a House slave of you. We begin today."
We did begin that day, and I came to understand rather quickly that being a House slave was a lot more complicated than I had imagined. We began with simple etiquette - slaves were to stand out of the way when not needed, but were expected to be present at all times - ready to act when called upon to do so. There were certain places in rooms - in corners, beside doorways, behind chairs - that were out of the way of normal foot traffic. The places where someone would not step when going about their business. I learned to identify these places... these were where House slaves were expected to be. Visible, but ignorable. Forgettable. Like a living piece of furniture.
I learned how to stand - still, upright, with my hands folded behind me. I learned how to kneel... beside my Master's chair, or before him if bidden to. Knees together. Back straight. Head down. I learned where to look... Always downward. Eyes on the floor. Never - never - into my Master's eyes.
I learned how to speak. This came the most naturally to me. Inflection was as important as the words themselves. Always deferential. Always respectful. I would speak only when spoken to. I was always to be listening... if I was called for, I was expected to be at the ready, but otherwise, I was not to react to what I heard, and I was never to repeat it. I may be privy to my Master's business, I was taught; I was never to interfere.
True to her word, the female Xithuatlian treated me like she was my Master, and I slowly learned to accept this. She was stern and harsh. She did not tolerate mistakes. Every day, she would leave my jaw stinging or nose bleeding from a sharp slap across the face when I committed some minor infraction or other. Once, I dropped a goblet of water she had had me carry, balanced atop a platter held aloft on my hand... she had threatened to take me to a whipping post if I made such an error, and I believe she meant to do so until the male Xithuatlian calmed her. He, I came to learn, was far more lenient and understanding of my failings than she was. She, it seemed, took every one of my sleights as a personal affront, as if I had done it on purpose purely to vex her, and vex her it did.
I spent each night in the small room, alone, sleeping on the cot. It was small, and it was chilly. Xithuatlians are not well adapted to the cold; we cannot regulate our body temperature, and when we are cold, we find it difficult to focus, difficult to think... we become lethargic. Slow. The blankets helped a little, but without another source of heat to warm them, they were of limited use. I was thankful for them all the same. Despite its shortcomings, the room felt like a luxury to me. I had not had a room truly to myself since I had been captured. This, I would learn, was one of the few perks of being a city slave. And every night, before I was allowed to retire to my room, the male Xithuatlian would produce a small key. He would insert it into my collar, and turn it. One, eight, one. I asked him once, when we were alone, what those clicks meant. He had not answered immediately, but I begged him, and he relented. Alas, he did not know... he knew how to wind the collars, but beyond that simple function, he was as ignorant as I about its inner workings.
Two weeks passed, and I emerged from my room to see the two Xithuatlians standing stiffly beside the door we had arrived through. They were standing in the resting position - their hands folded behind them, their backs straight, eyes on the floor. I recognized the stance immediately; I had spent much of the last weeks in that position, but I had never seen them assume it. I stopped in the doorway to my room; something felt amiss. I looked around the room and saw a human man whom I was not familiar with, sitting casually on one of the chairs, sipping from an ornate goblet. He was watching me; his face was blank, and I looked from him to the Xithuatlians, unsure what was happening. They did not move, nor did they look at me.
I heard a snap, and turned my head towards the sound to see the human pointing at the floor beside his chair. I was pulled from my confusion; this had been part of my training. I walked to him, moving quickly but not running - House slaves never run - and knelt beside his chair where he had indicated. I knelt facing the same direction he was sitting, laid my hands on my legs, kept my eyes on the floor. He said nothing, just continued sipping his drink. I fought the urge to look up at the female Xithuatlian. I had been following her orders for the past two weeks; I felt I should look to her for confirmation, for a signal, for anything, but her training had been clear: My eyes belonged on the floor, and on the floor they remained.
I stayed on my knees for what felt like a very long time, then heard the man stand up beside me. I stole a glance upwards, and saw him standing in front of his chair, holding his goblet out beside him, an impatient look on his face. I scrambled to my feet, and took the goblet from him. Only then did he turn his head towards me, and looked me up and down. "What is your name, slave?" he asked me, mild annoyance apparent in his voice.
"Setha-Vim, Sir," I replied quickly, without thinking.
"You will address me as 'Master', slave," he snapped at me, and I almost dropped the goblet in my surprise. "Setha-Vim, Master," I quickly corrected, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw the man glare at the two Xithuatlians standing by the door. They did not move nor look up.
"Well?" the man said, and turned to look at me. I looked at him, my eyes remaining lowered, and I could feel my hands trembling. "Master?" I asked; I did not know what was expected of me.
I could tell he was angry; I felt my heart sink. I did not even know who this man was, but I could tell that he was someone I did not want to make mad. He snapped his fingers again and pointed towards the kitchen. I followed his pointing finger with my eyes, then looked down at the goblet in my hands... I felt angry at myself as I scrambled to take it to the wash basin; I had thought I had been learning well for the past two weeks, but now that my lessons were being put to the test, I was forgetting everything I had been taught.
I hurriedly washed the goblet, dried it, and carefully put it back into the cupboard where they were stored. When I was finished, I came out of the kitchen, and moved to the corner beside the door, assuming the resting position, just as I had been taught. The man walked over to me, stood in front of me. He looked me over. "I will be receiving visitors shortly," he said to me, and waved a hand towards the middle of the room. "Prepare the table."
"Yes, Master," I answered, and quickly hurried to the small kitchen. I opened the cupboard to get goblets, and hesitated... How many should I bring? Should I ask? Should I have asked already? Probably. I settled on four. There were four chairs in the room, and it seemed as good a guess as any. I set them on a serving tray along with a pitcher of water. I arranged some dry wafers on a plate, and picked up the plate in one hand, while balancing the tray on the other. Normally, I had been told, I would be serving a much more lavish spread, but in the training compound, this was what there was, so this was what we served.
I walked out of the kitchen towards the sitting room and table, walking slowly, focusing entirely on the balance of the tray. I had not placed the goblets properly; it was slightly heavier on one side, and it was taking a lot of effort to keep it stable. I was so focused on this that I did not see the man walking across my path until it was too late.
To my credit I did not bump into him, but I stopped very abruptly, and the tray began to slip. I knew I would not be able to correct in time. Instinctively, I dropped the plate and the wafers and reached up with my other hand to steady the load; I managed to keep the pitcher upright, but two of the goblets fell from the tray. The sound they made as they struck the floor rang out loudly in the otherwise quiet room. looked up when I had stabilized the remaining items on the tray to see the man watching me, livid. He looked down at the mess on the floor, then up at me again, and folded his arms across his chest, waiting. I panicked, and started sputtering an apology, but he cut me off immediately.
"Clean this mess up," he ordered me, his voice level. I quickly carried the tray back into the kitchen and set it on the counter, then went back for the two fallen goblets; I felt his eyes boring into me as I bent down to pick them up, and returned them to the tray. I returned once more to pick up the wafers and the plate, and brought them, too, back into the kitchen, then went out once more to sweep up the crumbs. It felt like it took me a very long time. When I was finished, I looked to the man for instruction, and he simply snapped his fingers and pointed towards the wall. I quickly moved to where he had indicated and assumed the rest position, my heart pounding in my chest.
"I was told you two were skilled," the man said, and I glanced upwards in confusion; he was looking at my trainers - the two Xithuatlians standing by the door. They did not move, did not look up. He continued speaking a moment later. "I expected better. I will be relaying my disappointment to your Master." He turned his attention to me once more. "Do not move from that spot until they return," he said, and walked for the door. One of the Xithuatlians opened it for him, and they both followed him out, closing and locking the door behind them.
I waited, and waited, and waited. For hours, I stood in that spot, afraid to move. I was sure that as soon as I did, the door would open, and they would come back... that they were waiting in the hallway for me to disobey, so that they could highlight yet another of my failings today. So I did not move, and they did not come back.
It is difficult to stand still, alone, for an entire day. I would not have guessed how difficult it was, until I was forced to do it. It was not just my feet growing tired, but also my mind. I retreated into it with my thoughts, and told myself stories to pass the time. I composed poetry in my head to take my mind off of how hungry I had grown, and my growing need to relieve myself. I treated myself to imagined scenes of my tribe, my brothers and sisters, my home. I had become accustomed to using such tactics while working in the fields and the factory, to make a long day feel artificially shorter. It failed me this time. By the time the door opened again, I was very close to falling asleep where I stood. I do not know how long I had waited. It was difficult to track the passage of time in that room... There were no windows, there were no clocks, the light was artificial. All I had to rely on was my routine, and it had been shattered.
The male Xithuatlian walked into the room, alone, and closed the door behind him. He looked somehow as tired as I felt. He saw me standing there, struggling to stay upright, and he snorted out a forced chuckle, the implied mirth not reaching his face.
"Of all the orders he gave you, all the expectations we had, this is the one you decided to meet?" he asked me as he walked across the room.
I could tell that something was wrong, but I was too tired to puzzle anything out. I asked him bluntly, "Was that my real Master, Sir?" He nodded.
"It was. Lord Vaughn Ocroth, of House Ocroth. He came unannounced to see how your training was progressing. You gave him quite the demonstration, did you not?" My heart sank in my chest; I was certain that being left standing here would not be the only punishment I would feel for this.
"I am sorry," I said, my eyes on the floor. "I was taken by surprise... I did not know who he was, I just... my mind went blank, Sir." He stared at me for a long few moments, then brought out the key to my collar.
"Turn around," he told me, and I did so; he inserted the key into my collar, and I counted the familiar clicks. One, eight, one. When he had retracted the key once more, I turned to face him, and he pointed towards my room. "Go. Sleep. Your training resumes tomorrow. I hope you take it more seriously this time." He turned and walked towards the door to the hall; I watched him, confused.
"Is that it, Sir?" I asked. The words left my mouth before I had properly considered them. I blame my fatigue. "I am not to be punished?"
He stopped and turned to look at me again. "You do not actually know anything, do you?" he asked. I was taken aback by the question; I said nothing. "We are slaves, too, you know... or had you forgotten? Our Master expects us to teach you how to be a city slave. Your Master paid him for the service. Do you remember what we told you, on your first day here? When you are a House slave, and you fail to meet your Master's expectations, your actions reflect poorly on him. Well, here, when you fail to meet your Master's expectations, it reflects poorly on us." I stared back at him; in my beleaguered state, I was not thinking as clearly as I usually was. He turned to leave again, but stopped when his hand was on the door, and turned to address me once more.
"You should know... she defended you. She spoke up on your behalf... told them your training was progressing well, and that this test may have been a poor demonstration. For her indiscretion, she spent today against a post." He paused, then said to me, "She treats you the way she does because she believes it is the best way to prepare you for your Master. I want you to know... your actions affect more than just yourself. She will return tomorrow, to continue your training. I hope - for her sake - that you will not disappoint again." He sounded... angry is not the right word. He was upset, but it was pain in his voice, not anger. He walked out the door and locked it behind him. Once again, I was alone.
Despite my fatigue, I did not sleep well that night. I laid awake for some time, thinking about what the Xithuatlian had said to me. Thinking about my first introduction to my new Master. Reflecting on what I had done wrong. I had been nervous... I was not expecting my training to be put to the test so soon, but that is no excuse. He had not expected anything overly difficult. Had I been quicker to realize what was happening, quicker to interpret his expectations, I might have fared better. The platter... He had walked in front of me, it is true, but had I been paying better attention, I would have seen him coming. House slaves are never to be in their Masters' way. If we were walking on a collision course, it was I who was expected to correct my path, not him. He had done it on purpose, I do not doubt, to see how I would respond. I responded poorly. In my defense, I had only had two weeks of training, but in the end, it did not matter - I had been tested, and I had failed.
I awoke later than usual, but when I emerged from my room, the two Xithuatlians were not yet present, and did not enter the rooms for another hour. When they arrived, I was standing against the wall, head down, hands behind my back, waiting for them. I caught a glimpse of the female Xithuatlian's back as she closed the door; it was in ruins. Long gashes crossed her back at irregular angles. Scales were broken and missing. Her wounds had been cleaned, but fresh blood dripped from spots of exposed flesh. It was clear from the way she moved that she was in great pain.
I have no love for any human. Any service I render for them, any deference I show... they are acts of self-preservation. My loyalty to my Masters extends only so far as they hold the key to my collar. Other Xithuatlians, though... we all share a common bond, forged by our ordeals. We used to call our tribemates 'brother' and 'sister' - it was not to imply that we were related by blood, but that we were all one family. Now, I consider all Xithuatlians my brothers and sisters... If I have any true loyalty left to give, it is for them and them alone.
"I am sorry, Sister," I said quietly. My voice shook. I did not know how she would respond, but I felt that I had to say it. "I did not know... any of it. I am sorry that my actions caused you suffering."
She looked at me, and I saw her nostrils flare; she was angry. She walked over to me. I kept my eyes on the floor, maintained my position. She slapped me, hard, across the jaw with her left hand, then again, with the right hand, and then yet again with the left. My jaw stung, but I had seen her back... whatever she did, I felt that I deserved it. She drew back her hand to slap me a fourth time, and I flinched, but the blow did not come.
I opened my eyes to find that she had turned away from me; she clearly did not want me to know, but I saw her shoulders twitch, saw her head lower, and I could tell she was crying. It was not a response I had expected. The male Xithuatlian walked to her and put his arms around her, careful to avoid the raw flesh on her back. He comforted her, and she held him while she cried.
After a few minutes, he looked up at me. "We are mated," he told me. "She has an egg; our Master took it from her. He said that he will give it back only if your Master is satisfied with your training. If not, he will break it." He explained it matter-of-factly, without much emotion in his voice. It might have been mistaken for a lack of caring, but I recognized it for what it was: resignation. I almost could not believe what I was hearing. Almost.
"He took your egg? How can he do that?" I asked. It was a pointless question. If there is something they can use to manipulate us, to control us, they will use it. In this instance, her egg was being held hostage not only to control her, but now, to control me, as well. Whether it was a calculated move for him to tell me this, or whether it was simply a choice in the moment mattered not - now that I knew what the stakes were, how could I not try my hardest to save it?
In a few minutes, she had recovered her composure, and my training continued in earnest. Now, though, the Xithuatlians focused on my deficiencies, as they had been demonstrated during my Master's visit. Their brief break from character did not last, and they returned to form as my stand-in masters as the day progressed, but I at least understood why, now - they wanted me to learn to respond correctly under pressure... a skill I had demonstrated that I lacked.
In the days that followed, I made every effort to absorb the instructions they gave me. In addition to learning protocol and how to anticipate my Master's needs, I learned some practical skills - how to mix some of the common drinks many humans in the city preferred, some rudimentary cooking, how to operate some of the more common tools and apparatus often found in nobles' homes here... The more I came to know, the more I realized how much I did not know, and as the fourth week drew to a close, I grew increasingly nervous. I felt immense pressure to perform.
On what would be my last day in the compound, I emerged from my room to find myself alone for the second time during my stay. I grew increasingly nervous as I waited, unsure what was expected of me; it was hours before the doors opened, and the two familiar Xithuatlians walked in.
They held the door open while looking at me, snapped their fingers, and pointed out into the hallway. I acknowledged the command, and walked quickly out the door; they closed it behind me and joined me outside. They led me through the maze of hallways just as they had when I first arrived, although this time without the chains and muzzle. They said nothing as we walked, and I did not try to ask questions. I had learned that much, at least.
They took me to another room similar to the ones I had occupied for the past weeks, and I entered to find a group of four humans sitting in the chairs. My two Xithuatlian trainers did not enter with me; they remained in the hallway outside the room. Another Xithuatlian was already present, standing in the rest position along the wall. I was not told what to do, so I remained silent, moved to stand beside him, and waited.
It quickly became apparent what was taking place: the other Xithuatlian and I were expected to attend to the humans for some duration; I, and I presume the other Xithuatlian as well, were being tested. We were given no explicit instructions, but we observed and reacted to what was happening: we refilled cups and replaced empty plates, cleaned a spill, and performed a number of similar small, trivial tasks, while the humans' meeting progressed in front of us. We did not interrupt them, did not disrupt them; we were simply there. Like statues, until we saw the need to act. The humans in the room, it seemed, were the administrators of this compound; they were discussing their business, each reporting in turn on their own activities. I mostly ignored their conversations, until I heard one of them - a large, gruff-sounding man - mention an egg.
"I still have it," he said, his tone emotionless, uncaring. "I told her we would see once this one is delivered to his master." He waved a hand in my direction.
"I suggest we sell it," said another man. "It has become a distraction she does not need."
"It gives her motivation," the first man said. "As long as she is allowed to keep it, or thinks she will be allowed to keep it, she is more emotionally invested in her work."
"She has to know that she cannot keep it once it hatches," said a third human, a woman. "It would be easier to sell the egg now."
"You are probably right," the first man answered. "I will try to arrange a buyer. In the meantime, we will let her think we still might give it back to her."
The conversation moved on to other topics, as if this had been nothing out of the ordinary; it may well not have been. I felt ill. The very idea of using even our eggs to manipulate us sickened me to my core. I knew that humans could be cruel, but this went beyond what I had thought even they were capable of.
I was so lost in my emotions that I nearly missed a cue to refill a goblet; I performed the task mechanically. It felt so pointless, so petty. Here we were, bringing them food and drinks, fetching napkins, cleaning their messes, while they treated us like tools, like animals. Worse than animals. I wanted to scream at them, to condemn their actions, to demand our freedom. I wanted to do something, anything but continue serving them like an obedient pet, but I did not. I could not. I did nothing.
The rest of the meeting passed uneventfully. I do not even recall the things we did for them; I only remember how upset I felt at the injustice of it all. Was this what my life was to be, now? A simple servant, my entire existence dedicated only to making some rich human's life more comfortable? To acting as a living symbol of their wealth and station? I almost could not bear it.
The humans left once their business was concluded, and shortly after, the familiar Xithuatlians returned to collect me. They led me back to the familiar room where I had spent the last weeks, then, unexpectedly, the female spoke to me.
"How did it go?" she asked.
"It... I performed adequately, I believe, Ma'am," I replied, but she shook her head.
"Do not call me that," she told me. "Not anymore. I am Rivi-Zen. He is Padiki-va-Jin." She indicated the male Xithuatlian beside her. "We are your trainers no longer... We are House slaves, just as you are, now."
I nodded slowly, and repeated their names, committing them to memory. "Rivi-Zen... Padiki-va-Jin. It is nice to meet you," I said.
"And you, Setha-Vim," she said to me. For the first time, I saw the barest hint of a smile cross her face, but it was gone again a moment later. "Our Master was in the meeting you were attending," she continued. "Did he... did he say anything, about us?" She looked hopeful.
I hesitated, then answered quietly, "No... he did not. Not that I heard. I do not recall much of what was said." She nodded slowly, but all traces of the smile were gone. I wondered if my brief hesitation had betrayed my lie. Even now, I do not know.
"I see," she said. I heard the sound of metal on metal, and looked up to see the male Xithuatlian - Padiki-va-Jin - removing the iron muzzle and the chains from the wall, where they had hung since I was first brought to these rooms. I tensed, but he raised a hand to calm me.
"We are to deliver you to your new Master," he said to me. "You will have to wear these."
I remained still as he attached the chains to my shackles, and slid the muzzle over my face. They led me through the corridors of the compound one final time; they were gentler with me now than they had been when I had first arrived. They did not speak to me as we left the building and walked through the city streets, and I remained quiet, as well. I felt the weight of guilt on my shoulders.
Looking back on that day, I wonder whether the words I overheard during that meeting were simply part of my test. Perhaps they had been carefully planned, to see if I would tell Rivi-Zen what they had said, or whether I would keep the humans' words in confidence. Rivi-Zen had told me that this was part of a House slave's duties - to not repeat what was heard, to not interfere with their Masters' business. Perhaps she knew what had been discussed, and had I told her, she would have reported my actions to her Master. Perhaps. If it was part of the test, it was ineffective. I told her what I did not out of a desire to protect her Master's interests, but out of weakness... I simply could not bear to deliver such news. I could not bring myself to take what hope she had remaining from her. I may have passed the test of a slave, or I may have failed a test of compassion. To this day, I do not know.
I found myself looking up as we walked through the city. I could not get over how tall the buildings were. Some were three, even four floors high, and had ornate ornamentation atop them. Steeples, towers, decorative carvings and statuary. I had never seen buildings this large. It all felt excessive. Unnecessary. Like each building was trying to prove itself to be grander than the one beside it. It was impressive to look at... some of them were truly beautiful to behold, but they made me feel uncomfortable all the same. How many slaves were kept here, working in these buildings? As of that day, there would be one more.
I was led to a medium-sized building. Not to the main entrance, but through an alley between the structure and its neighbor, to a much smaller and less grandiose door near the rear. Padiki-va-Jin knocked on the door with his fist and a minute later it was opened, by a Xithuatlian. He was taller than I was, and had dark red scales; he wore the same bronze shackles and collar as I did, as every slave I had met did. He stepped aside so we could enter; words were exchanged, I was introduced, the keys to my collar and my chains were handed over, and Padiki-va-Jin and Rivi-Zen departed. The transaction was completed efficiently, like they had done this many times before. They probably had.
The rest of my first day in my new Master's estate passed quickly. I was released from my chains and muzzle and was shown my way around. The building had clearly been designed with slaves - or perhaps servants - in mind; there were a number of rooms hidden away out of sight, and passages between those rooms that we could use to traverse the building without walking through the main living areas... It felt like a maze. There were three other slaves, all of whom were far more experienced than I. At the end of the day, I was shown to a small room at the end of one of the hidden corridors. It was similar to the room I had occupied in the training compound - cramped, cold and dark, with a cot and a wash basin, but it would be mine, and mine alone. It felt like a luxury.
I did not even see my new Master until I had already retreated to my quarters. I had begun to grow anxious... but he pushed open the door, holding a light in one hand and the key to my collar in the other. I was sitting on the cot when he came in; I had not been expecting anyone to enter, and was caught off guard. I quickly dropped to the floor and knelt, eyes down; it was the first response that came to mind. My heartbeat quickened as he looked me up and down.
"I am told you have been properly trained," he said to me. His tone was flat and lacked emotion, as I had come to expect from humans when they interacted with us. I had come to recognize it as a good sign; when they showed emotion, it was usually anger. "I expect you will not disappoint me again."
I did not know how to respond; I answered simply and quietly, "I have, Master... and I will not disappoint you." He nodded, apparently satisfied with that. He pointed at the floor and made a spinning gesture with his finger; I quickly turned around, still on my knees, to face away from him. He inserted the key into my collar and turned it. One, nine, one. I felt my heart skip a beat."
- Setha-Vim