Open A refreshing heat.

[Timothy Mered]

Date here

That had to be quite painful. So maybe that was why she had cried? Course not! She’d just told him she couldn’t cry. Not anymore at least. What a horrible ability to lose, particularly for a girl. Yet he was certain he had heard her whimper and as he ventured to meet her eyes again, he noticed they were slightly red and swollen.

It was a lie! He tensed and flared his nostrils. They always lied. Perhaps it was a game to them, to make him look like a fool. Well, they wouldn’t win!
The venomous bite to her voice only made him more confident. She wanted to sweep the matter under the rug and be done with it, she didn’t want him to know. That, he supposed, was indeed her right, but it irked him nevertheless. Not only did grown-ups lie all the time, they also never involved you in their secrets. He hated it. First he’d been sold and branded like cattle and now he was treated as if he was as dumb as a Granidile.

What irked him more still was the ease with which she judged herself. To call yourself forgiving, he thought, reeked of arrogance and his eyes narrowed at the statement. Forgiveness had many faces, including the lowliest gutter rat who looked on with indifference. In that regard, she wasn’t quite unlike the rat. She didn’t forgive, she just looked on with mild indifference.
“Is not Jed likely to wonder where you are?”

“No Miss,” he replied, standing attentive once more. “I had the day off because of the weather you see. Or rather, Master Jed took the day off and well, nobody would be coming to the shop in this heat anyway, Miss.”
“I would not like to see you punished though I imagine that many would think you in dire need of disciplining.”

He grinned. She could talk about forgiveness all she liked, but he thought he’d maneuvered himself rather handsomely so far. Too many slaves avoided the thin ice altogether and so, when he did venture to ask bold questions, he often caught the higher-ups off guard and more often than not, they seemed to enjoy his rashness, adore it almost. They were so used to being catered to unquestioningly that he, prodding around where he shouldn’t, was like a fresh breeze. Or so he liked to think of it. “Fat chance,” he murmured under his breath.

She reprimanded him some more, calling his behavior sinful. Out of all the things she could’ve said, that single word stung more than a lash. Sinful. His God was Yahal, the one of faith and purity, to be called sinful, no matter by whom, dealt a great blow to his confidence. One of Yahal should be the spitting image of purity. To his horror, she had a point. He had been careless.
With his faith.

She had barely finished speaking when he spun around on his heels and bolted away. The coolness of the shop had given him a new burst of energy, one that had completely disappeared when he returned. Panting, he stepped back inside and handed her the waterskin.

On his way back to her, he’d returned his mind to her sobs. There had to be a reason, and one presented itself.

“It’s the baker isn’t it?” he smiled, proud to have solved the mystery by himself. “He likes you but you’re not sure what to do with it. You already have a man? Or maybe you had?” he crossed his arms and let his eyes slide over the ceiling. “It’s not my area of expertise unfortunately,” he confessed. No matter how odd it may have sounded from a mere child, he had grown up in the company of whores. And whilst they didn’t understand love the same way as one of noble blood might, he wasn’t a complete fool on the matter either. He knew heartbreak when he saw it, and whilst this wasn’t quite the same, he observed similarities. Propping himself up, rather too casually perhaps, against the wall near the door, his eyes flicked to the side before he made another observation. “What are you so afraid of?”

NoteI hope you don't feel I am reading Adelaide too keenly or accurately. I tried to keep his observations vague, aside from one direct hit. It's in his nature to keep pressing on and he will continue to ask inappropiate questions until she tells him off or acts far more sternly. He now sort of knows he can push her, so he'll keep searching for her limit.

[Adelaide Sitai]

27th Summer 514AV

A day off? Such a thing would be entirely foreign to most of the slaves in Kenash or, indeed, many of the citizens of Kenash. Yet, had she not, in a manner, given Mercedes leave to remove her uniform, to sit in the shade in spite of her Eypharian lineage? If it was not a day off, it could neither be considered a day of work. Somewhere in Kenash, she knew, slaves would be out working in the fields and, in the heat, a number would perish. Such was the world.

As Tim, the slave, ran off, she considered that she ought not be so lenient. It neither befitted her position or her family's. With a small sigh, Adelaide took a couple of steps back up the spiral staircase, ready to dismiss him as soon as he had the water. He had not even made a gesture of respect before speeding off... yes, indeed, she had been too lenient. It was the acting that was responsible. All the empathy and construction of character made one much too quick to sympathise with the slightest ailment or issue, and such emotion was entirely unnecessary with the way the world was: it neither allowed nor called for it. The wall in front of her seemed very plain suddenly - it was oddly comforting, but in the peeling wallpaper, she imagined legions of tiny creatures. These miniscule figments of her imagination surely had a much better life than most of the people of Mizahar, even if they were fortunate enough to live in Kenash.

As Timothy re-entered the shop, she was about to call him to come up to her when he spoke. For a second, she stood dumbstruck as he mentioned her already having a man. In the past tense. She stretched her neck backwards, as if physically reeling momentarily, and turned to the side, shielding her face with a veil of dark hair.

"I love Novak." she murmured, knowing he probably would not hear, then she turned back and her eyes were angry, her voice strained, sarcastic yet oddly soothing and calm, dangerous even, "Aren't you a clever little beast?"

She was still standing on the staircase, her hands fallen to her side, a thousand emotions clashing wildly in her chest. It made her heart ache and, in that moment, she felt that to feel at all must be some form of madness. Slowly, with an element of grandness and sophistication, she made her way down the steps, not taking her cool eyes off Tim. Why was he so casual? Why did he look so uncaring, looking at the ceiling and leaning against the door? Yes, he had been pleased to see her for what she was and made arrogant by it. Maybe he was pleased to see her in pain - her the oppressor. And she had wondered why he cared!

"I'm not afraid Tim." her voice had become very gentle as she reached the last step and came upon the same level as him, "Why aren't you afraid? One day, you'll go too far and, then, someone will break every single one of your bones. And they'll enjoy doing it just to watch you scream. When you're a slave as you are," - As we all are in one way or another - "Tim, you ought to keep your nose clean."

Why had this happened? Why had she not demanded more respect from him? Adelaide's head was pounding ferociously, and she felt certain that the boy would see the vein pulsing in her neck, her chest beating out like a drum. The heat only made her head spin faster and more wildly while her thirst seemed to render her more irritable and, consequently, reckless. She neither ran nor walked but suddenly she was right next to him and she grabbed the boy's wrist, pushing him back against the wall. In the heat (quite literally) of the moment, her strength seemed doubled and her grip was vice-like.

"The baker, as you call him, is your superior in every way. He is a good man and a member of the Draer dynasty. I would not have you speak ill of him. He helped me live again." The last was a slip of the tongue, murmured in a seething whisper, and she realised she had gone too far and revealed too much but, still, she could not change her tune, "I am not your friend Tim, and I am not a good person. If I were..." she stopped again. Not going any further as her face contorted with confusion. Yes. If she had been a good person, the gods would not have seen fit to kill her lover and, less than ten days later, their unborn child. And then her eyes settled on the Benshira bracelet again and her voice faltered, getting stuck in her throat. As she remembered to breathe, she spoke with tenderness, almost as though she had forgotten the presence of the boy, "Naolom was a Benshira too. He had those perfect, perfect eyes. Like water. Only green. Like an oasis." She bit her lip to hold back the tears as her stony eyes flicked back up to Timothy and her grip on his wrist tightened, even as her voice lost all harshness and remained, confused and woeful, even apologetic, "Well... what tribe were you from, little beast? Before Lhex fated you to this life?"

After a moment, her grip loosened slightly, not enough so that he could escape, but enough so that it would not hurt him. Adelaide did not like to inflict pain, whether physical or emotional, on anyone. Even if they were a slave who deserved it. Learning to discipline better was something she still had to do as a matter of urgency.

"I love Novak." her voice was not wholly certain, but she could not betray him either.

[Timothy Mered]

[right]27th of Summer/right]

That had been a mistake.

All her features darkened, except for her eyes, they lit up like simmering coals. There was a raging, boiling undercurrent to her voice that made his spine melt. If he said anything now, he’d be dead meat.

“Aren’t you a clever little beast?”

The last person who’d told him that had ruffled his hair and kissed his forehead. Mother. But she was gone now, and so was everyone else. So perhaps he should say something. Perhaps he should say that Nova was a petching bastard and that she was nothing but a doxy, lifting her skirt for a few pennies. At least then he’d be with his mother again.

But he’d be a liar too, and not an inch better than Miss Sitai. It wouldn’t be right, and he couldn’t bring himself to lie so plainly either. As she came down the stairs, with lead in her step, he almost believed she had recovered already and his jaw relaxed again. Perhaps he had misjudged her. That wouldn’t be the first time today. She was hard to understand, not only because the fancy words the drizzled her speech with, but also because her tongue and the rest of her body told two different tales.

The threat made his heart skip one beat, then another. Pushing himself off the wall he edged towards the door, preparing to shoot away at the merest hint that she would become the one to enjoy his screams. “I was just asking questions,” he countered feebly.

She came closer.

“I didn’t mean anything by it,” he backed up against the wall.

But she came closer.

“I’m sorry if I hurt you,” he breathed.

In a blink, she was next to him. Like a monster out of a sweaty, feverish nightmare, she had bridged the space between them with uncanny speed. For a moment, she was a monster. Fat veins pulsing, the air around her throbbing. It was the only warning he got.

His back slammed into the wall. She pinned him down, one of her clutches looped around his wrist then tightened, like a noose around a neck. Now she would break it. Now she would snap his wrist like a twig, and then the other. And then she would laugh as she reduced him to some sickly, broken creature.
Instead, she lisped into his ear. Her hot breath made the infernal heat ingrained into her words palpable. He didn’t understand. He heard the words, but they didn’t register. All he could do was squirm and wiggle in a half-hearted attempt to get away. Half-hearted because he had nowhere to hide and no one to run to.

Just when he thought his wrist would break, her grip slackened and Tim, wide-eyed, followed her gaze to the bracelet on it. “Please,” he writhed. “You’re hurting me.” His voice was but a whisper and before he knew it, her nails dug deeper into his skin. Already his hand began to feel numb. But it wasn’t so much her squeezing as her cold dead-eyed stare that made him crumple.

"Well... what tribe were you from, little beast? Before Lhex fated you to this life?"

“I ain’t from any tribe,” he said through gritted teeth. “And I am not a beast either,” he fired back, finding some courage in her less threatening question.
He didn’t know if his answer pleased her, or if she had thought of something else, but her grip loosened.

“I love Novak,” she said.

He seized his chance. She held him down with one hand, but his other was free. He lashed out. It was a wild, untrained blow, but a blow still. In that moment, he had formed his plan, and he knew it’s many flaws and risks. But he couldn’t stand by idly and do nothing. That was not how he had survived in Sunberth, and that was not how he would survive here. With a bit of luck it would land on her cheek and catch her by surprise. With a bit of bad luck, she would send that six-armed monster of hers after him, but he wouldn’t let it come close. In the dazed confusion that would follow, he would try to yank his other hand free and dash past her. Seeing as she was at the door, he had but one choice. Upstairs. And so he would jump up the steps, giving himself the higher ground, eyes searching for a way out.

[Adelaide Sitai]

27th Summer 514AV

She had not realised that she was hurting him. She had not wanted to
hurt him. Only to make him stay still, to listen and to stop asking questions.
Adelaide let out a cry of both surprise and pain as Tim's blow landed squarely, much stronger than she could expect of such a frail looking child and she stumbled slightly, falling to one knee. She could not recall the last time she had properly been hit - a few times as a child by her father as punishment for her various misdeeds, a few times by an abusive former lover, a couple of times in bars by drunken strangers... and here, by a child. A slave. She still had had no intention of hurting him, only maybe scare the child a little, and her feelings only vaguely altered after the blow landed. It would take more to scare such a child! Sunberth had obviously hardened him and his years of freedom had made him wilful and disobedient. But why had he done that to her? Not the hit for she probably deserved that for her past misadventures. The questions about a past lover. Naolom. As Tim ran up the stairs, she could hear the confused voices of Mercedes and Pinta. All the sounds in the small establishment seemed louder, the blood pounding in her ears enhancing them and giving them a rhythmic quality. Yells, the ticking of a clock somewhere, sounds from off the street, the footsteps on the stairs and on the landing. All merged to form a bitter, dissonant medley of odds and ends. Locking the door behind her, Adelaide stepped towards the stairs, stumbling slightly. She imagined Naolom's face, expanding until it alone filled her mind's eye and, as her mind's eye returned the figment of her imagination's stare, she knew him to be disappointed with her: he who had believed so strongly in protecting those unable to protect themselves. She had attacked a child. A slave, yes, but a child nonetheless. And he had lashed out and such an act could not go unpunished, even if she had driven him to it. It would not go unpunished for his own sake rather than hers.

"This is Kenash. You wouldn't understand." she muttered to herself, or rather to the vision.

She made her way up the stairs with no small confusion but, as she reached the landing, her face had become completely composed. That was all she had needed, a physical crossing in order to make an emotional one and push those emotions back down to where they belonged - out of sight and feeling. Calm with a lingering half smile, slightly sad and slightly amused. Adelaide had the acting skill to do as much and pretended to be completely impassive as he ran around the shop floor.

"You've made your bed Timothy. Now lie in it." she paused, "You can try to run, or hide, but it won't change the facts. I am not about to punish you."

Indeed, she was not. She would make a note for Jed Radacke and then Tim would see how he fared against someone who was less of a light touch than herself. Still, she indicated to Pinta and Mercedes that they try and catch him, while she turned to the window and locked that too before sitting down, watching the proceedings with a feigned expression of boredom. She even continued speaking to the boy as he dodged around the two women chasing him. She could have been speaking of the weather, almost polite.

"So, little beast who does not belong to a tribe. Which Benshira Nomad did you steal your bracelet from? After all, I cannot reasonably be expected to believe you bought it." She looked up from her quiet contemplation of her fingertips and laughed prettily, "You really ought to stop running. It's not fair on Mercedes and Pinta to be doing this sort of exercise on such a hot day. They have better things to do and, in the end, they will catch you."

Indeed they did, but they both reacted to the chase differently. Pinta seemed eager, her natural playfulness enjoying the odd exercise provided for her by her Mistress. Mercedes, however, was completely furious. Although Adelaide had told Tim that he would not get punished, she could insure that that would be the case if he came within reach of one of the Eypharian's long arms. Hot-blooded and tempestuous, she seemed altogether likely to want to administer retribution for the bother he had put her to.

[Timothy Mered]

27th of Summer

Much to his satisfaction, his punch connected. There was a short moment of triumph as he yanked himself free and dashed past Adelaide and skipped up the iron steps. If Mercedes hadn’t been alerted to the situation yet, his feet clattering against the steps surely would. And indeed, he’d barely reached the landing before she spotted him. It took her three, maybe four ticks before she realized the little devil was up to no good.

Her eyes thundered from underneath her short, dark hair and she jumped forward to seize him. At wit’s end, Tim sidestepped her and charged further into the shopping room.

It took Mercedes less than ten ticks to show him to all corners of the white walled room. His boots dirtied the wooden floorboards, but he took care to not knock over the mannequins as he desperately searched for a way out.
Another girl, with just two arms, light-hair and smiling green eyes joined the game whilst Lady Adelaide just watched from near the winding stairs.

Still, the room was large and he kept moving, never allowing the two seamstresses to surround him. They too, didn’t seem too keen on destroying any of the furniture, and he used that to his advantage.

"You've made your bed Timothy. Now lie in it." she paused, "You can try to run, or hide, but it won't change the facts. I am not about to punish you."

There was no escape.

She was lying of course.

Perhaps the windo-

It was closed. He was trapped. Panic surged through his veins. He couldn’t keep this up forever and Lady Adelaide’s indifferent attitude was distracting him. Within a tick, her two assistants had worked him into a corner. He considered lashing out again, but it was eight arms against two, three brains against one. But they stopped as Adelaide spoke, perhaps waiting for her permission to seize him.

"So, little beast who does not belong to a tribe. Which Benshira Nomad did you steal your bracelet from? After all, I cannot reasonably be expected to believe you bought it."

“I didn’t steal anything,” he hissed back. “I inherited it from my mother, after I buried her.” He kept his gaze firmly trained on the two slaves, ready to dart away should they come any closer.

You really ought to stop running. It's not fair on Mercedes and Pinta to be doing this sort of exercise on such a hot day. They have better things to do and, in the end, they will catch you."

Idiot. He should’ve seen it coming, he should’ve known that the question was but a distraction. At once Mercedes dashed forward and grabbed him. Two of her hands snapped around his upper-arm, two around his waist and Pinta grabbed his other arm for good measure. Mercedes was strong in all of her arms, strong enough to lift his feet off the ground as they dragged him before Adelaide. Not that they needed to, he made no attempts to get away. He merely scowled before fright grabbed his heart with long, icy fingers.
He gulped. He had hit her. He had hit a Dynasty member.

Now he would see how forgiving she truly was. He was at her mercy, unable to move, unable to flee, unable to fight back. Yet she didn’t seem to care. In fact, she appeared bored and tired, as if he was some unruly nephew that had thrown a tantrum for the umpteenth time.

No matter how unfair he thought any punishment to be, after all she had started this, he’d be a fool to deny that lashing out had been stupid. Though he made no further attempts to run or slither away, his mind was still defiant.

“I didn’t steal the bracelet,” he repeared. “It’s mine and I’d rather die than give it to you!”

Lowering his head, he sucked in a deep breath and muttered, “why do you keep saying I am from a tribe? I am not. I am from Sunberth.” There was a hint of pride in his voice as he looked back up and narrowed his eyes at her. What was she playing at?

PermissionPermission to use Pinta and Mercedes has been granted by Adelaide_Sitai

[Adelaide Sitai]

27th Summer 514AV

Adelaide was glad to see the little beast caught. Mercedes had been getting angrier every second that it took for her to catch him and, had she not done so at the moment she had, she would undoubtedly have lashed out at him with all six hands. From his mother? Adelaide was not disinclined to believe him. The boy was undisciplined, rude, careless, callous even and stubborn to a fault. For all that, he seemed honest in his pride and it was almost refreshing: Honesty was not highly valued in a city where everything and everyone had a price.

"Your mother must have been quite a traveller... from Sunberth to the Desert and back. Tell me, did she sell you or did someone else?" Adelaide knew the question would probably hurt his feelings. Good. He deserved that. "Maybe she thought she'd found a way to kill two birds with one stone. One less mouth to feed. One less nuisance to worry about."

She exhaled slightly at the defiance in his voice. Already in a state, Tim certainly knew how to dig himself a hole. At this point, she would have expected him to be contrite, even desperate for forgiveness. Noting this, she shifted her own tone of voice so that it was lighter, more amused, even nonchalant as if she could not care what he thought, as though all the bravado in the world would fail to impress her, "I didn't ask for your bracelet Tim. I don't want it." She would look odd enough wearing a Benshira bracelet (even if it were a nice bracelet for all that) and, besides, had no desire to remove it from him, "How is it that you allow yourself, an unremarkable slave, to question me? But I am not allowed to do the same with you. Not so clever, really, was it little beast?"

Adelaide let her rhetorical question hang in the air and there was a short silence that she used for dramatic effect, looking at him and shaking her head gently. He sounded proud to be from Sunberth: How ridiculous! He ought to be proud to be in Kenash, undoubtedly the pinnacle of civilisation, regardless of his lowly situation. Not for the first time, she decided that it was far better to be a slave in Kenash than a freeman in Sunberth, or a number of other places for that matter.

"You're a silly little beast. You wear something and yet have no idea of its origins or meaning. Are there many Benshira in Sunberth? How else would you have a Benshira bracelet?"

He was being deliberately stupid, she knew, just so he would have something to boast about - misleading a Dynast! A burst of anger overcame her and she turned away so that he would not see it. She started walking towards the window and opened it, twisting up the blinds with a long, wooden stick and thus letting in a flood of sunlight that, therein, had been banished from the dark room. In flooded the heat but also a burst of cool air that too soon evaporated. A stray breeze momentarily made its way towards her and she tucked a strand of hair, the roots wet with sweat, back behind her ear. On such a day, any attempts by the wind to whip up some coolness in the stagnant city was rendered void.

"There once was a little boy from Sunberth
Whose hubris negated his perceived worth
'til he let down his guard
And was whipped till he scarred
Oh that silly little boy from Sunberth."

Adelaide spoke slowly, relatively quietly in a way that everyone in the room could understand every word clearly but almost as if they had disturbed her in her thoughts.

After a chime more, she turned back from the window and there was no longer any anger on her face. Just amusement at her pathetic attempts at poetry, or improvisation, and the small boy standing in front of her, like a prisoner ready to be lead to the gallows. She smiled at Tim, more warmly, more kindly. No doubt he would think her backhanded, or manipulative, to seemingly forgive him only to write to his Master to inform him that he ought to be punished for daring to raise a hand on a member of the Sitai Dynasty, but she hardly cared. The rudeness and lack of respect was unforgivable. The defiance needed to be attended to. With many other Dynasty members, the violence would have been grounds for anything up to death, and he needed to understand that.

"Well Timothy, how do you suggest we move forward from this unpleasant situation?"

[Timothy Mered]

27th of Summer 514Av

He scowled.

All he could do was scowl.

When she spoke of his mother the cords in his neck swelled, then tightened like a noose after the drop. “Someone else did,” he growled, grinding his teeth. “My mother wouldn’t sell me for a thousand mizas! You’d better not say anything else about her!” his vocal cords broke into a pitiful squeak. It was the last flare of his fire before he stumbled back a pace with droopy shoulders.

He retreated deep into his mind, searching it wildly for her face, his mother’s face. But in a heartbeat he knew he’d forgotten. He’d forgotten what she looked like. Lowering his head once more, he squeezed his eyes shut and tried to rewind in his head. Many faces had gone by the last few weeks, many of them he hoped to forget soon, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t recall home.

“I didn’t ask for your bracelet Tim, I don’t want it.”

The most precious thing he had, probably the most valuable too and there wasn’t an inch of her that cared for it. He knew he should be glad that she didn’t want it, but instead it was another blow to his confidence and his frame slumped, relying on Mercedes and Pinta to keep him standing.

Over the past few days Jed had drowned in him rules and warning looks, but Tim had done as Matilla, Jed’s kind, old slave, had advised and avoided any conflict. Now he’d been with someone who’d been nice to him, strange, but kind nevertheless. And this was what it had led to. Held like a prisoner in someone else’s shop with no means of escape. Her casual tone gnawed at him. She was unpredictable. One moment she’d given him a macaroon, the next she’d been crying and now she acted like she couldn’t care less if he got away alive or not.

Little beast.

He shrunk a little more every time she called him that. Beasts could be squashed, little ones even more so. He could be disregarded. He was nothing, nobody, what he’d said and done had not affected her in the least. There wasn’t a sliver of doubt in his mind that her thoughts were as changeable and devilish as the wind.

“…How else would you have a Benshira bracelet?”

“I didn’t know it was Benshira,” he muttered. He omitted that he didn’t know who or what a Benshira was anyway, there was no point in shaming himself further.

The light came flooding in, blinding him, and making his eyes burn hotter still. Blinking, his thoughts returned to home. His stomach prickled. He wanted to go back. Back to his little shack, back to a city he knew and people he knew. Instead, he was stuck here. For good.

Some part of him had always thought it was just a trip of sorts, an adventure. But now, held in place by two girls and being reprimanded by a third, he understood that was never going to happen. Not if they had anything to say about it. If he was fed up and ran away, they would hunt him down. If they were fed up with him, they’d get to him too. He bit his trembling lip in a desperate attempt to calm himself.

But he couldn’t close his ears to her little rhyme and when she turned back to him, his previously flushed cheeks were devoid of any color. The only color was in his red, swollen eyes.

Finally, the flood gates opened. One after the other, thick, fat tears streamed down his cheeks before splashing onto the floor. He was beyond reprimanding himself for it. He hadn’t cried all his time in Kenash, he hadn’t cried aboard the slaver’s ship, he hadn’t even cried when his mother had died. But now, he cried, and whimpered, and sobbed as if doing so would wash away the loneliness and desperation that ached in his chest, cutting more deeply with every heartthrob. His chin and lips were trembling and now that he’d finally given in to his tears, they just kept coming. Part of him wished they’d end it now, that he’d be strung up like a rabbit –feet kicking- or that someone would jab a knive through his heart. Then, at least, he would be with his mother again.

“…how do you suggest we move forward from this unpleasant situation?”

Looking up with wide, watery eyes, he just stared at her, trying to regain control over his tongue.

“I don’t wanna,” he choked out.

“I want to go home.”

[Adelaide Sitai]

27th Summer 514AV

"So she did not sell you?" Adelaide momentarily passed a hand over her face, as though wiping away a hundred dark visions which had settled themselves in her sight, cobwebs framing her mind, "I'll believe that Tim. However, I do fail to understand why a woman seemingly so devoted to her son that she would not part with him for a thousand mizas - no matter how dire her situation - could be so completely absent from your life. Why didn't she fight to retain you? Where is she now?"

Adelaide was unable to prevent a fleeting note of jealousy in her words, audible perhaps to her alone. Tim's warmth and passion had caught her off-guard and, suddenly, she faltered. This boy, ragged and wilful - someone she had soon judged to be an altogether inappropriate slave, not worth the trouble - had something that she could not have, something she had never had and never would have. A mother. Adelaide could not even remember hers. Indeed, she had murdered hers and, if nobody else blamed her for it, she had certainly done her fair share of blaming herself. And what would her mother have thought of her? Of the woman she had become? Adelaide had no idea. To her, her mother was a round portrait in her father's study, hanging over the fireplace, and tales of all the good deeds she had ever done: A model of accomplishment, humility and grace. That was all anyone thought she ought to know since to speak badly of the dead (especially one's own) was grossly ill mannered. As such, Adelaide had suffered in failing to attain this unachievable ideal.

Shrugging off all unnecessary thoughts, the young woman was ready to push further with her questioning of the boy's bracelet, still certain he was being deliberately stupid even if it turned out that the little beast had nabbed it from the wrist of a corpse, still warm, on the streets of Sunberth. In such a city, that seemed likely. Then the boy burst into tears and all thoughts she had nurtured until then evaporated. Adelaide visibly shrank back at the outpouring of emotion, astonished. She had no children of her own and certainly had never seen many slaves cry before. What was this? These tears weren't the little gasps for air, the soft wailing of someone frightened to be discovered, opening and closing their mouths listlessly like sea anemones. It wasn't like Adelaide's own tears, her heart bemoaning something unattainable and ethereal; tears which perplexed even her in their spontaneity. No... this was a cry of desperation - the pain of a wounded animal caught in a trap, just before it chews through its own leg, embodied by a small boy with puffy red eyes.

"I..." Adelaide had no idea what to do as the tears poured on and on from a seemingly endless source. Just as she thought they might reach a crescendo and fade away, they only increased.

"Sir. What are we to do? The neighbours will hear." Mercedes hissed, eyebrows raised as she observed the little boy with disapproval. Pinta, however, look completely shaken and dropped the arm she was holding so that Mercedes was the sole support for Tim's crumpled body.

Adelaide barely heard the question, her face aghast. She could not stop herself from staring. Not her usual, intrigued stare where she cocked her head to the side, but a look of complete and utter bemusement, as if Tim were some impossible animal she had come across on a walk.

"I don't know. I, uh, don't know." she looked up and turned from Mercedes to Pinta and back to Mercedes once again, before saying helplessly, "For goodness sake, do something."

Adelaide gestured wildly and erratically. Somewhere, in both her heart and her mind, a bitter battle was being fought. The logical side of her brain was telling her to keep her distance and that interfering would only make things more difficult for both of them, though Tim in particular. Another side of her brain was urging her to flee and let her assistants deal with this mess and return Tim to his master. She could go to the Baths while they dealt with the issue and wash all this unpleasantness out of her hair, wash away the memory of Tim grabbing her wrist. Her heart was a wild torrent of anger and pity. A more maternal and caring side was pushing her to move towards him, to take him into her arms and hug him, tell him how he'd been silly, making mountains out of molehills, and laugh, assuring him that he was finding issue where there was none. A darker side was bubbling to the surface though and that side, smaller in spite of being constantly fed by the political and social climate of Kenash, was pushing to go further, to see how much more pain she could cause him without even having to lift a finger. Though, the caring side of her heart won out over the dark side, in the end her brain, as was usually the case, triumphed over her emotions. Adelaide had taken two steps forward, intending to embrace the little beast, but consequently found herself taking five steps back, pushed up against the window, watching and waiting for the end of the tantrum.

She could not help herself from breathing a sigh of relief as Tim found himself able to speak again. It would end soon, she was sure.

"You can't go home Tim. You belong to Jed. By extension, you are attached to Kenash. This is your home now and the quicker you accept that fact, the happier you will be." Adelaide's voice was soft and genuine, believing strongly in every word she said, "I know that it does not seem fair. I know that Tim, but I also know what the world would be like without civilisation. Slavery needs to exist in order for there to be prosperity. There has to be poor so there can be rich and pain so that there can be pleasure. Tim - you're a child so you would not understand. However, believe me when I say that I am as stuck on the path which the gods paved for me from birth as you are. It doesn't make me a good person nor you a bad one. It's fate and there's nothing we can do about it without risking the worst kind of anarchy."

Adelaide exhaled slightly, closed the window again and tentatively took a step forward.

"Mercedes. You can release him. He's unlikely to try and escape again where there's nowhere to escape. I believe him to be many things, but completely stupid isn't one of them." she paused before adding wryly, "Well Tim, you certainly know how to throw a tantrum."

[Timothy Mered]

27th of Summer

Now that tears no longer flooded down his cheeks, all of him felt cold. Like an abandoned basement: quiet, chilly, and perpetually dark. Without Mercedes at his back, he would’ve crumpled into some miserable pile there and then. A steady throb settled in his forehead, warm, uncomfortable and increasingly thrumming, keeping his mind from latching onto any coherent thought.

Her voice was different now. Gentle, soothing, like a rippling river stream. Stripped of his defiant armor, her words found their way in. She was right. It wasn’t fair, not one bit, and it was because of people like her that things were this way! But he didn’t say that. He would’ve loved to, but he couldn’t find the strength or determination to man the defenses yet again.

He thought of mother again. He could feel her close, but he couldn’t see her. He could smell her hair, but he couldn’t touch her. She was gone now, and there was a monstrous sea between them. When Mercedes released him, he remained standing perfectly still, like an ancient statue, blemished and worn by the seasons.

“I don’t understand” he muttered to the floor. Perhaps there was answer hidden in the polished wood. Perhaps someone, or something, could explain to him what he’d done wrong to end up here. A frown buried itself into his face, “I don’t understand. Why can’t I go home? If I have to pay Jed his mizas back, I will, I’ve already got one and then I’ll walk and I’ll just keep on walking until I am back.”

He looked up at the thin lady with her perfect figure, perfect face and perfect hair. He wondered if his mother had looked like that too. Maybe she had, he couldn’t remember. He hated her, but she seemed to refuse to hate him back, and he hated her more for it. She was nice, and had been friendly until he had decided to chase her. Perhaps that was why everyone was so stern and sullen here, being friendly, or caring, or even pretending to care meant you’d be caught, held, and reprimanded until your ears hurt.

Now that the wet stripes had dried on his cheeks, he could hear the haunting little rhyme again. He tried not to listen to it, but it seized him by the collar and continued to lisp into his ear. Silly boy. Little beast.

If he’d been as wise as he was stubborn, he would’ve bent the knee and beg for forgiveness, yet he remained, undecided. Stiff as a board, unyielding, unwilling to budge but equally incapable of veering back. Again and again, he replayed her words in his head.

“Why didn’t she fight to retain you? Where is she now?”

“She’s dead and buried.” His eyes were dull and solemn, his lips barely moved as he continued, “Just a fever. She always said it was just a fever and that I didn’t need to pay a healer. I was saving money to get one anyway, but she died the next morning.”

He averted his gaze again and looked to the windows. All of this could’ve been avoided if he had just stayed outside and not try to help Lady Sitai. It would’ve bought him some sort of trouble no doubt, but much less of it for sure. At least he’d earned a golden miza, but he doubted it would set him free. His gaze dropped to the leather bracelet. She knew more about it than he did, and he cursed himself for having made her cross with him. Somewhere in the hollow vacuum of his chest, a spark rekindled. Maybe she knew something about his father! Maybe it was just like he’d dreamt day after day, maybe he was still alive, searching for him. He would be a knight, and a strong one at that, and he would have his own horse and sword and a castle too!

Gulping, reality dawned on him. He was still there, in that cool, sun-kissed room. Restrained not by arms but words.

He sucked in another breath, a shiver bolted down his spine. He had to know more, no matter how low she would have him bend to give him another whiff of information.

And so he succumbed. His right knee hit the floor first, his left soon followed. Clasping his hands together he besieged her with a pained, twisted look. Hurt, confused, but also curious. Curious how much more she knew about his only possession.

“I am sorry I hurt you…Miss Sitai…” he managed to choke out. “I- I just- it gets very lonely sometimes and I don’t think about what I am doing. . .please don't tell Master Jed,” he pleaded.

The little beast inside howled at him, urging him to stand up and hit her again and again so she would never hurt him or anyone else ever again. But her words, both harsh and soothing, had disarmed him. Now all he could do was hope she would forgive him so that perhaps, one day, she would tell him more about his only heirloom.

Gutted, his plea only deepened. He wanted to fight it, but it washed over and he couldn't help but surrender to the bitter avalanche that welled in his chest.

"I will- I wi- I will go to the baker now and- and apologize now if it pleases you," he stuttered. "I just thought you were hurt and I was curious and I wanted to help," he blurted. He had as little control over his words as he had had over his tears, and now that all of them had been shed instinct drove him to cry words instead.

OOCSorry if this is a bit jittery. I've been pondering about how to reply for many days now. One option was to remain defiant and violent, the other to simply freeze and turn cold. But then one word stuck out to me, when she says that he is just a child and won't understand. And let's face it, as much as I wanted him to remain on his feet, I don't think any child his age would've been able to stand his ground. That's why I went with this scenario, of asking for forgiveness. As authors, we can always give little nudges to other PC's and steer a plot a certain way, so I am sorry if this isn't the direction you were aiming for. Having said that, I don't feel it is my best post either, but after having been typing and editing for three hours straight, I just felt I had to get this up. I find exploring his fears quite difficult and challenging, but your posts really help a LOT! You always give me many handles to latch onto, so thank you for that! Sorry that I took so long! You've been a great partner so far! Having said that, I think we should begin to steer towards an end.

[Adelaide Sitai]

27th Summer 514AV

Adelaide looked at the perplexed child slightly helplessly, not able to make him understand nor willing to explain to him that he could not simply buy his freedom - a slave oughtn't have any money anyhow. Somehow, she had made the mistake of allowing him his first Miza and thus offering him a shred of hope that eventually there would be a way forward, a way out. She should have taken it off him, informed him of the fact that a slave could not have money and that everything he owned automatically belonged to his master so, in a way, to pay Jed back would be to pay him back with his own money.

"Would you not rather spend your coin? Buy some apples, a cape..." she took a look at his messy hair before adding wryly, "A comb." She continued, her voice coaxing, persuasive, "After all, this is your only coin. And how long did it take you to get that? You were very lucky so, to count on such luck, you'd be waiting years before getting all the money and, in the meantime you risk being discovered. Surely there's something, Tim, you'd rather buy. Right now. A cake, perhaps?"

Mercedes was looking at her oddly, Adelaide knew, probably wondering why her mistress was endorsing the boy's behaviour, why she wasn't shooting his notions down in flames. Adelaide, however, sensed that to do so might not be the right attitude to take with the little beast. This was why children ought not to be slaves. Adelaide never bought them personally - or, more accurately, she never caught those who had been captured rather than brought up in slavery. They always had a difficult time understanding what was happening... and that made them too angry and defiant or in constant tears - one could do nothing with either type. They were also often lazy or inconsistent workers. Yes, definitely more trouble than they were worth.

"Oh." Adelaide did not say anything else other than that as she heard about his mother, spoken as if said in passing. She couldn't exactly reply, telling him that her mother too was dead and buried: it simply was not the sort of conversation one had with a disobedient slave, but still she felt the pang of jealousy, comparing their situations. Maybe Tim had suffered more from his mother's death for having known her, but at least he had known her. And he had not been the one to kill her, like Adelaide had killed her own mother. Quite the opposite, for he had started taking the measures to make her better, to cure her of her "fever".

"You're sorry." If she had intended it as a question, spoken wryly, then she had failed in her endeavour, for the two words came out as a statement murmured in surprise.

For some reason, the boy having resolutely refused to apologise up until then, Adelaide had not expected him to. Perhaps it was because she was more accustomed to the company of adults, who could hold out for longer, or perhaps it was because, in spite of her resolve to try and make him beg for forgiveness, Adelaide found it difficult to be as intimidating as she wished to be.

"He'd think you were crazy if you went to apologise to him - he has no idea of what you said." she paused, before murmuring, "I have to tell your Master, Tim."

That was fairer than telling him a lie, telling him that she would not when, in actual fact, she had no choice but to reveal the particulars of the situation. He had hit her! She would, however, advise Jed to not go about punishing the boy in a manner too heavy-handed (not being able to sit down for the rest of the day would probably do) for it would probably turn him against the Kenashian system and he'd never stop trying to run away. No, what was important was convincing Tim to stay, to make him understand that he was better off staying and serving in Kenash than risking all kinds of dangers outside of Kenash.

"I don't need your help. I don't need anyone's help."