Memoirs of a Fallen God

Chapter 7

In the months that followed, Scratch and I were intermittently disturbed from our work in the fields at the request of Lord Briar. It seemed the young noble had taken something resembling a liking to us. We were called to the mansion at least twice a week, though it really shouldn't have been any great surprise. We three were the only boys of our age to be found on the farm.

Usually, we played some manner of game: three corners, pins, breakerball if we could find a fourth. Scratch and Briar both had a year or so on me, but I proved quicker than either, so it was often the pair of them against me in whatever we chose to play.

Those were pleasant, happy afternoons, though we never for a moment forgot who was the slave, and who the master.

Scratch and I knew our place, and always did our best to act our station--but Briar made it easy. If either of us became a bit too exuberant in a victory celebration, or went a little far with a bit of good-natured banter, he would only stop and arch an eyebrow until we realized the mistake, where another master might already be reaching for a switch. He was a good sort.

As Briar requested our presence more and more often, the overseer began to give us a certain leeway in our field work. We weren't quite house slaves--nothing so lofty as all that--but allowances were made. If we came back from the mansion with an hour's worth of daylight left in the sky, exhausted from an afternoon spent hard at play, well, we might be waved to the slave quarters directly instead of out to the fields. It wouldn't do to overwork those who so often had the ear and good graces of the young lord. As always, pragmatism reigned, even in the fields.

There were also times when Briar requested only one of us, and inevitably I was the boy of choice. Scratch, being the stoically apathetic creature that he was, never made any show of caring one way or the other when Briar singled me out in such a way. Though he did complain about having to do my share of fieldwork.

On one such occasion some weeks later, as Briar and I passed through the now-commonplace grandeur of the mansion hallways, Niroko passed us by. Again he wore the unmistakable dress of an overseer. I felt the now familiar stirrings of anger and had a struggle to remain calm, to quiet the disgust and anger the man's mere presence brought to life within me.

"Who is that?" I asked, nodding at the shape receding down the hallway, doing my best to keep my voice neutral.

"Hmm?" Briar said, distracted by his own thoughts. "Oh. That would be the house overseer. Niroko, I think it is. A bit new to it. He oversees the affairs of the house slaves, much as your overseer does out in the fields. Used to be a driver, from what I understand." He shrugged. "Can't say I much care for the man. Too much the kiss-ass for my liking."

He paused and an oddly serious look came over his face. "That does bring to mind a thing I have been meaning to mention, though. You may want to get on the man's good side. Some time ago my father suggested that I would do well to consider choosing a bodyservant, a footslave. Someone to look after my personal affairs, and one who is mine and mine alone." He smiled. "I rather had you in mind for it, Telth. What do you think of that? It would spare you from the fields, and you'd have your own little quarters right next to mine."

The offer caught me completely off guard. Undeniably, it was an excellent, generous gesture. I knew that at once. There is little better a slave can hope for than the almost respectable position of personal servant to a powerful noble. Any slave would be a fool to question such an offer.

So of course, me being the fool that I was, the first thing that popped out of my mouth was not, "I would be honored, m'lord," or, "Nothing would please me more, sir."

No. I paused in mid step, worked my mouth soundlessly for a moment while my brain played catchup with my lips, and finally blurted, "But...but what about Scratch?"

Irritation flashed over Briar's features, clear and unmistakable. Instantly I felt abashed. But after only a heartbeat his expression softened, and abruptly he barked a laugh. "You certainly are a loyal one, aren't you? Here I offer you a position riddled with perks, one any other slave would trip over themselves to accept, and the first thing you think of is your friend. That speaks well of you, Telth." Half smile appeared on his lips and he rolled his eyes. "Of your loyalty, anyway. Doesn't exactly speak volumes for your intellect."

The smile drifted from his face, and a thoughtful expression took over. "I like Scratch, truly. Perhaps something can be found for him here in the household and out of the fields. But as a personal slave he simply will not do. Those rashes he sports are unsightly, and his incessant scratching grows irritating. Besides which, he's a bit slow." He shook his head. "But that's all quite irrelevant. Even if he were more to my liking, the fact remains I will have only one footslave, and I choose you."

And what could I say to that? I accepted, of course, and thanked Briar profusely and sincerely. He was pleased, and began enthusiastically ticking off a list of my new responsibilities--tending his wardrobe, looking after his animals, assuring his meals were on time and to his liking. It all sounded easy enough. True, I knew nothing of these things, but that failed to worry me. I'd always been a quick study.

And besides, I'd rather lift socks and shirts in a noble's room than break my back toiling beneath a broiling sun, any day you care to name.

So ended my life as a field slave. By the end of that day, I was the personal servant of the Lord Briar Delokay, heir to house Delokay. And it took only a little nudge on my part to get Scratch a cozy position in the kitchens, too. That night, for the first time, I slept in a real bed, in a room with a door that locked. The luxury was almost painful.

After years of relentless toil, life had finally taken a turn for the better.

Word of the battle reached us the next day.