Closed Slave by Birth, Slave by Choice

[Valerius Nitrozian]

Fall 45, 513 AV Things for looking up for Sitanos Nitrozian’s grandson Valerius. He had finally been allowed to stop cleaning Kelvic cages and begun to assist Doctor Gaius Alzelin with his experiments. His career as a scientist was well underway. Amolina Moletta and he had recently begun to work on their own research project that was separate from the Kelvic Research Institution. He had intensified his studies of cryptography – and he had hired a new employee of questionable origins, but considerable skills. Kit Rowan did not only work as a courier for him, she was also a performer. That was why he had asked her to meet him in the Nitrozian Estate. He wanted to introduce her to Melenna, his Konti slave who was a talented musician and see what the two could come up with together. Maybe he could have them perform at the next party in the Nitrozian Estate and impress the guests with them. ~~~ Once Kit arrived at the Nitrozian Estate, she would immediately be taken to Valerius‘ suite by Tuuli, a dark skinned human that was his other slave besides Melenna. „Take your shoes off“, the girl ordered her. „Master Valerius doesn’t want you to ruin his carpet“. Once Kit complied, Tuuli opened the door for her and gestured for her to stop inside before she left. Valerius did not need her today. A few chimes prior to Kit’s arrival Valerius had ordered Melenna to come to his suite. Kit would find the two of them sitting at the table in the center of his suite now. Valerius‘ appearance was as always impeccable, and he sat with his back completely straight. On the table in front of him where a pitcher with wine and a few goblets, and next to the table she could see a large harp that had not been here before. He had recently acquired it so that Melenna had something to practice on besides the small lap harp that was usually hidden in a chest. „Miss Carsma“, he greeted Kit. „Please come closer and take a seat. I want you to meet my slave, Melenna. She is a musician of some skill. I would like to the two of you to work together on something.“

[Kit Rowan]

x

Valerius was, Kit had learned through her brief employment under him, a creature who found structure and comfort in the appearance of things. It was with some deliberation that Kit scoured her scarce wardrobe, trying to get a handle on what she had that might inspire comfort in the popinjay for hiring her rather than regret. Her courier's leathers were tough and practical, but somehow Kit did not imagine that Valerius would find practical to his taste. "Rich prick," Kit scowled at the imaginary Valerius in her head. On the other hand, the performing raiment she'd purchased was probably out of place for a simple practice.

But he was her rich prick, and it was her job to keep him happy. Kit muttered under her breath and elected for a more creative approach, donning one of the linen shirts that she ripped and roughly mended since its purchase. With a thought the awkward stitches vanished beneath a glamour as though they were never there, an embroidery danced the shoulders and collars, appearing as though under a mirage. . . Azure, of course. Another thought and her street clothes changed in quality and color, black to white, with an expensive sheen that had seemed to Kit entirely average in the Nitrozian estate. Kit thought it would have given Ionu a kick to see the cheapest clothes on the street mistaken for truly expensive work. "Lookin' good."

Kit smiled for a tick, bit down on her lip and breathed in slowly through her nose. What if he was curious, and wanted to know where she got it? She toned down the apparent expense of the illusion, a little luster trimmed away here and there to curb Valerius' curiosity. ". . . Right." She brushed off her trousers, still feeling the linen under the false image. "Time to go."

Not willing to risk the walk in her current seeming, Kit rode Ravosalas all the way to the Estate. Impatience drove her offer the Ravosalawoman an extra silver, for which she seemed grateful but no more swift.

Valerius . . . and for that matter, all Ravok, did not know her as Kit Rowan. The girl they knew was called Shy Carsma, and it was her face that Kit wore into the Nitrozian Estate, walking the well-practiced route from entrance to her employer's suite in lockstep behind Tuuli. Kit pulled at her sleeve once, dusted her clean trousers twice, tugged at her ponytail thrice and breathed out, long, attempting to call on calm. Kit could deliver letters however much Valerius wished if it would bring in mizas. But performing? That she could actually enjoy.

Kit kicked off her shoes with a dubious look, was glad she had taken the time to wash her feet last night and wondered how Valerius would react if he realized she did her runs mostly unshod. She smiled a sharp smile, decided it would be best if he wasn't forced to face it.

Kit accepted Valerius' invitation without ceremony, planting herself in a chair. She examined Melenna, from the scales and white hair, Kit could only assume that she was looking at a Konti. She was small and delicate, with a face rounded and flush with apparent youth and a button nose. Kit's smile was honest, and though it flickered when she heard 'slave' it was easy enough to keep going. So long as she didn't look at the brand.

"Hello Melenna," Kit said, extending her hand out toward the konti. "My name is Shy. I'm something of an acrobat."

x

[Melenna]

Flamboyant. Melenna didn't really consider herself such, but it was something she was starting to become heralded by among her fellow slaves. And no matter how many times she said, “But on Konti Isle...” they just didn't seem to get it. Where she hailed from, beauty was the norm, a necessity, not an extravagance. That didn't mean it had to be outward beauty, or beauty according to onlookers, but beauty in oneself. If a konti could look at herself and feel pretty, if she could practice her art and feel good about it, then there really wasn't much more life needed. The other slaves just didn't seem to understand this, most especially among them Tuuli, who was convinced Melenna was putting on the show just for their master's attention.

Then again, there was a lot Nitrozian's slaves didn't understand. Many of them had been born into the life of a slave and saw freedom as a cumbersome notion. Why be free when living so comfortably under a master? What good could possibly lie beyond Ravok's fair waters? It was utterly infuriating to think there were people in the world who had never known freedom, who had never chosen the course of their own lives. They liked being shoved around and put in their place because the thought of being something more scared them to bits. To make their own choices, to become a “threat” in their own dreams and pursuits was more frightening to them than facing the whip of a master.

Really, it was trash, and Melenna didn't like having trash in her head. What was worse was that she couldn't stop it from coming. The mark of Avalis was always there upon her neck, just as it had been on the day she was born. At night, when her mind drifted, the chavena would come. First, it would be like fragments of a daydream, images, sights, and sounds mixing together into an incomprehensible blur. Oddly enough, it was the most beautiful at this stage, for that was when she could see the chavi threading about, bright and lovely as the first shaft of dawn. Then, she would focus on an individual chavi and the images would become clearer. She started to feel things, see things as the person who created the chavi did.

These were the experiences of those who surrounded her. She could not peer into a chavi deep enough to read its present or future, but the past was clearly written for her to see. Most frequently of all, she happened upon Valerius' chavi because it was the most familiar to her. Without his knowing, without his even speaking to her, she had seen his daily exploits, shared his feelings and his thoughts more intimately than he could have imagined. Unlike the slaves, he usually maintained an addictive sense of calm and confidence, and she always found mirth in the things his pride forced him to miss. Though she could only see his past through his eyes, she could still interpret his observations differently.

Thus, when she had been brought to Valerius' room and saw the harp, her heart leapt with joy rather than surprise. She had caught wind of him placing such an order in the past, but she had not been able to see when it would come. Her fingers were itching for a new instrument to toy with, and the fully fledged harp awaiting her caress would do just fine. The trouble was that Valerius did not seem to have any interest in her playing just yet. The dull tune of his heart was rigid as ever as he had her sit down and wait, and of course he didn't bother to tell her what she was waiting for. She was too lowly, of course, and it would be bad manners to speak when not spoken to.

Not that she looked lowly. In fact, any person looking in the room would have found her more comfortable in noble graces than her master. Where he was cold and rigid like ice itself, she had the willowy ease of a swan, curving her body gently on her perch. As it was, she sat with her hands on her lap and one ankle over the other with her feet tucked slightly under her chair. Her hair was long and free about her shoulders as it always was, the platinum strands almost glowing after so much brushing. After all, it wouldn't do to leave any stray hairs about Valerius' room... or his clothes.

Not that she had to worry. She was a very nice ornament of his, dressed in silk and lace as she was. Her gown was composed of two layers, one being a sleeveless black thing that hugged the body until folding out around the knees over the feet, and the other a wispy pattern of cerulean blue lace that wrapped over the shoulders, forming a V on the bodice and following the dress all the way down to its hems. Though she couldn't (and probably would never be allowed to) wear jewelry, she had added the touch of a fat ribbon around the waist, which ended in her usual way—a flamboyant bow. She looked every inch a proper woman, but none of that mattered when she had that ugly half of a sun burned onto her hand.

Melenna heard Kit before she saw her, feeling the timid sounds of a flute wafting through the colder tones of Valerius' inner song. Yet there was something more there, something underneath the melody that wasn't quite so gentle—the crisp clip of a tambourine, perhaps? She didn't quite know what to make of it until the young woman herself stepped in, and a smile immediately spread across her lips. Shy Carsma, as she had seen before through Valerius' eyes, was just as vibrant and timid as he remembered. Her stunning blue eyes had a way of dodging around a face's features instead of looking directly at it, avoiding Melenna's returning gaze. It was also impossible not to note her darker complexion, which despite the relatively fine clothing, marked her as not being among Ravok's traditional pasty nobles.

Although, her mien would have already given that away. Shy's thin form mildly reminded Melenna of herself, as she had been when first acquired by Valerius. Decent food and a lack of forced exercise had given her bone of a body some softness, and she was actually able to fill out a dress. Though Kit did not seem quite as neglected as she had been, there was still a kind of jerk to her step, as though she were a tense cord ready to snap away at any moment. She was, as far as Melenna could gather in those few steps it took Shy to get to the table, timid but not quite gentle.

“Hello, Melenna.” The young woman paused to offer her hand, which the Konti readily accepted. “My name is Shy. I'm something of an acrobat.”

In return, Melenna simply laughed. Truthfully, she was amused by such a modest description of Shy, who she knew to be a girl that lit up like the sun when her body was in full and graceful motion. But she turned her head towards Valerius to give herself a better excuse. “When you spoke of a band, dearest Valerius, I did not realize you were seeking an entire performance cast. This is the best challenge you've given me yet.”

Melenna gave Shy's hand a gentle squeeze before she let it go, folding her hands lightly on the table. She was smiling directly at the young woman now, but there was something slightly unnerving in the warmth of her eyes, as though she were greeting an old friend rather than a stranger. “Guess you can't really start with “I'm Shy” with a name like that, hm? I like it all the same—it has a brief but sweet taste on the tongue. It would appear that I'm not just Melenna, but the artist that will be accompanying you in our journey to make something my master can be proud of. But before we go into all those creatively taxing details, I would love to know more about you and how you came into my master's obvious favor.”

[Valerius Nitrozian]

Valerius made a face as Kit unceremoniously planted herself in one of his elegant chairs, but he didn’t say anything. He knew just enough about other people to be aware that criticizing their lack of manners would be unwise if you wanted them to do something and do it well. Instead he remarked, „Your costume is … adequate.“ That was as close to a compliment as Kit would likely get from him. Of course he didn’t know that it was simply a glamour, and of course she would never be able to match the exotic beauty and elegance of a Konti. Melenna he thought as he looked at her and noticed how she sat there, so gracefully, had turned out to be quite an asset to House Nitrozian, even if he didn’t appreciate the fact that she spoke about what was on her mind so openly. „This isn’t quite a band yet“, he informed her and cast a glance at Shy. „Unless you play an instrument and can sing as well, Miss Carsma? I promised my slave a band of her own when I discovered how skilled she was, but first I’d like to see how the two of you work together.“ He cast a disapproving glance at Melenna as she chatted away, as if she weren’t a slave that had to obey and do whatever he said, but a member of his family. „Melenna“, he warned her quietly before he turned to Shy. „As you have heard my slave is curious about how you came to work for me. Please tell her how we met, and also tell her a bit about yourself.“ While he waited for Shy to speak, he poured himself a glass of wine and took a slow sip. He didn’t offer the two women anything to drink. They would only get some of his fine wine if they did their work well.

[Kit Rowan]

x

"Afraid not," Kit said to Valerius. "Music isn't something I've ever learned. Not for lack of wanting, mind, but there was never time."

It was not the first time Kit had seen Konti—they had some in Alvadas also, in the Caldera of Rainbow Shells, and sometimes they came up to the city proper. She had seen them there. But so close up . . . ? Never. Once she had seen a performance in the Playhouse, where a suitor came to woo a konti, and stood outside his window for one hundred cold nights, before he missed a day on the hundredth and was dismissed from her presence forever on the hundred-and-oneth.

Melenna was as elegant as the stories had said a konti should be. Valerius wore his wealth like a man constantly standing before judgment. Melenna wore it with the natural, easy comfort of a woman walking to the fishmonger; not that she didn't wear it well. She wore it as though it was the most natural thing she could have possibly picked. Kit studied her carefully, taking in everything. Melenna wore the sort of delicate grace that turned Kit's stomach on its head.

She was as unnerving as Konti were supposed to be too. Kit was not entirely sure how to handle the woman's sudden, unwarranted warmth, Kit couldn't bring herself to do much more than grin an uneven grin in response. "I think my parents picked my name as a prayer," she said. "They must've prayed to the wrong god."

And then Valerius inserted himself into the conversation, skewering Melenna with a word that was rebuke. Kit bit down on her lip.

A year ago, she might have demanded further conversation with the Konti. Since her capture and escape, Kit had come to understand that many slaves were locked in a long corridor of life by their own choosing. They were completely happy to move along and let the world decide their fate for them. Was it wishful thinking that made her see something different in Melenna? . . . Almost certainly. Almost certainly.

Expect the world to disappoint.

Kit turned her eyes toward Valerius for the first time since she'd sat down and talked with Melenna. Did he think that she would pay not attention to Melenna's request because she was a slave? Or did he simply want to make sure that all her conversations happened through him? Kit thought the latter. Perhaps that was why he had been so cross with the Konti over her 'outburst.' A year ago she would have made her thought known, loudly. But pain and shame had taught her subtlety.

"Sometimes," Kit said, leaning forward, hands on her knees. "I'll find a way up to the side of a building here, or there." She raised her hands and gestured at imaginary structures on either side of her. "And when that's done and I clamor to the top, I make the leaps to other buildings nearby!" Kit closed her eyes to shrug, but her smile betrayed her thin veneer of humility. "Valerius caught on me on the tail end of it one day, and offered me a job."

x

[Melenna]

Melenna's smile never stole away from her face. Oh no, to show discomfort would be to offer gratification—and that she only wanted to give when it suited her purpose. So her pink, pearly lips remained gently curved as she stared Valerius down. She knew why he had hired Shy, but why had he hired her? If he had wanted an acrobat to entertain, he could have gone to over a dozen more reliable sources for such a person. Why, he could have even bought one of those Kelvics he so loved and despised and had them “trained” for an even cheaper price. Sure, Shy's performance had been impressive and she seemed a neutral entity within Ravok on which he could trust a few secrets, but that had been rash by even her standards. Could it be... Valerius was simply far more easy to manipulate than he knew?

The Konti saw the way Shy bristled at Valerius' controlling hand, even if it was only betrayed by the young woman roughing up her lip. Poor young lady... she's just trying to fit into this new role. But you've made a few mistakes already, Miss Shy. Melenna's gaze softened as it shifted from Valerius to Shy, noting a few things here and there. Shy was a free creature and lacked the disdain necessary to direct at the “scum of Ravok.” It required constant reminding on a master's part to keep a slave in line—not just to keep them compliant with forced labor, but to keep certain thoughts out of their head. Every demeaning glance, every flinch away kept that slave isolated in a fictional world, one where both her thoughts and virtues meant nothing. For a moment, even Valerius had convinced Melenna of that.

It was the foreigners and fellow slaves who lacked such necessary subtleties in domination. Shy's gaze was too curious, too moved—Melenna found herself more reminded of the tourists of Konti Isle than a Ravokian. A wee bit of real fondness touched her eyes as she continued to gaze at the young woman, who seemed to like talking as much with her hands as she did her mouth. She made her exploits seem easy—like scaling a building and jumping off roofs was not at all dangerous or taxing—but even larger the lie was how agreeable she made Valerius seem. Her master wasn't prone to enjoy being put in any good light, and she could already imagine how he might flinch at the notion of him offering work on the spot to any “common” street performer. After all, he had first approached Shy with threats of taking her to Ravokian authorities.

Yes, she'd have to soften that blow, even if Valerius didn't appreciate the misuse of her voice. “An interesting tale indeed! Not just anyone could catch my master's eye, so you must indeed be something extraordinary. I am curious however, as to how my master means to coordinate our work...”

[Valerius Nitrozian]

„Maybe Melenna would be willing to teach you“, Valerius suggested as Shy told him that she was not a musician. He had noticed the way she was looking at his Konti. Yes, she had definitely been worth it. Soon everybody would be admiring the Konti of House Nitrozian and admiring her. „She plays the harp and sings as well.“ She did both rather well, but he didn’t want the compliments to get to Melenna’s head. Another arrogant slave was the last thing he needed. As Shy made a remark about her name, the Nitrozian nodded. Yes, they had definitely picked the wrong name – and prayed to the wrong god. The young woman was a lot of things, but she definitely wasn’t shy. The story of how the two of them had met proved that. „A woman that can jump from roof to roof seemed quite useful to me“, he remarked once Shy had ended. That was all he was willing to tell Melenna. The letters he asked Shy to deliver occasionally were none of her business. And neither was the research project he had started with Amolina Moletta. Melenna was a slave, her main purpose was to look pretty, entertain and distract him when he needed it, not to pry into his private affairs. „As for how I mean to coordinate your work …“ He looked from Melenna to Shy. „I want you to play something for us, Melenna, so that Shy can get used to your style of music, something fast that she can move to.“