Memoirs of a Fallen God

Chapter 9

The next several months passed swiftly. On one day, as I went about my daily duties, I passed Niroko no less than three times. At each instance I felt the rage build at the sight of him. I quelled it. It was a thing I was growing more and more accustomed to, living in the household.

He still showed no signs of recognizing me. And by the third time he passed me, I was, for the first time, able to contain my anger enough that I noticed the way the other slaves reacted to his passing. To my surprise, every single one of them either froze in fear or outright cowered as the overseer walked by.

It was strange to me, the way every house slave seemed to fear Niroko nearly as much as I did. The gods know I had more than ample reason, but, as much as I hated to admit it, I had never once seen him lay a hand on one of the other slaves--even as he raged at them for their mistakes. He bore no switch, wore no club. Certainly he was no joy to be around, but the fearful regard of the house slaves was a mystery to me.

So, as Niroko passed me by for the third time, I turned to the only other slave in the hallway, one who had practically curled into a ball as the former slave driver walked passed.

"Why is everyone so scared of the overseer?" I asked. "The field overseer was worse, and we didn't cower like that. This one doesn't even carry a switch."

The slave, an older man with a graying beard and a bent back, didn't look up from where he worked a spot on the floor with a rag, but snorted at my question.

"Because he's mad as a poked badger, that's why." He darted a quick glance up and down the hallway to see if anyone was coming, then reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of redgum, a narcotic many of the older slaves indulged in, when they could get it.

He stuck the wad in his mouth, sucked, and sighed contentedly. Then he continued, "They say the Count gave him a nasty whippin', once, back when he was just a driver. Almost beat a slave to death, and the Count didn't much care for his reasonings, seems. He don't make that kind of mistake no more though, oh no. Won't lay a hand to one of the Count's slaves, no matter what he done. Scream and holler at 'um, sure, but not so much as a cuff beyond that."

He spit a long crimson trail of redgum juice onto the clean hallway floor, then wiped it up with his rag. "No, now what he'll do is just buy up any slave as pisses him off proper. Maybe costs him a bit, sure, but most slaves ain't worth all that much when it gets down to it. And a man can do whatever he wants with his own slaves. I figure he takes his time cutting them to pieces, all slow like, legal as you please, and the Count don't never know." The man gave a shrug. "Doubt he'd care if he did."

He shook his head, a look of disgust on his face. "I heard tell of at least five slaves he bought up, and I tell you what, boy, nobody seen one hair of them never again. Now I ain't no scholar, but a fella' havta' be a good bit dumber'n me to want to see the bad side of a nasty sort like that." He paused, then, and looked at me, scratching the scraggly gray hair of his beard. "'Course, you being the young Lord's own slave, and not answering to the overseer at all, well, you ain't got yourself too much to worry ‘bout from the likes of him. But you stay away from him all the same, boy. No sense chancing chances."

I considered the old man's words as I started back down the hall. It made a sick kind of sense. After all, I hadn't really thought Niroko had undergone some sort of miraculous improvement just because I hadn't caught him actively beating slaves. No, I was quite thoroughly convinced the man was evil, regardless. Of course he still relished in the torment of it--he was just more cautious, now.

Hell, even if the man had turned into some sort of saint, I still would have hated him. I've never been the forgiving type.

But even so, to hear the cold-hearted calculation behind his current method of administering punishment was still something of a shock. From the sound of it, he wasn't just hurting people, he was killing people. In all likelihood right here under this roof. And no one cared.