The Slave — Chapter 1
Beginning the third of three novellas from the world of The Shattered Moon.
For the full background to these novellas see the Introduction to Three Kinds of Now.
"Anyhows," continued Cook, "What'm I to make o' bein' free? Bein' told I'm free? I'm not goin' to go anywhere, live any different. What's freedom anyways? Way I sees it, there's plenty o' free folk what's worse off than I am right now."
From 'The Sundering Wall', Book Two of The Shattered Moon.
Rhenya’s congratulations were uninhibited, Jerya’s more reserved. “I congratulate you, Mistress Railu… or are we to say Mistress Skelber now?”
“Jerya, please, I don’t want you to call me anything but my name.”
A little later, she drew Jerya to one side. “And now I’m thinking I might be able to do something for you.”
“For me?”
“Yes. I’ve spoken with Skelber and he’s quite willing to make an offer for you.”
Jerya stared, not sure she had grasped what Railu was implying. ”You mean… you’d buy me?
Railu knew her too well not to see the warning signs. “Jerya, please. In this world, in this situation, what else can I do? You know they've been short of money, that Grevel's not turned out such a good manager… I’m sure they'll consider it. Then they might be able to take on some young fellow as a secretary, like they’ve been talking about.”
“Have they?”
“Jerya, I’ve sat with them more than once and been on the point of saying ‘you have someone here already who could do everything you need’.”
"Me?" Jerya laughed mirthlessly. “Could I? I don’t get much reading these days and I’m sure I’ve entirely forgotten how to write.” She was overstating her lack of reading, but it was true enough that she’d hardly picked up a pen in years.
"I'm sure you haven't… but even if you're a little rusty you'll soon get back in the way of it. And that's what I'm saying. Jerya, we will give you those opportunities." She studied Jerya's face and must again have seen the doubt. "Jerya, listen, why do you think I fell for you in the first place?"
"I'm sure I have no idea."
"Well, I suppose these things are never simple, but what I remember above all… Jerya, you were the most… vibrant person I'd ever met. I know being enslaved is hard, but—"
"—You should try eighteen years of it," Jerya could not help saying.
Railu looked wounded. Half of Jerya felt it was quite right that she should be, half of her wished she could take the words back. But she had been enslaved for eighteen years; even in what Rhenya had called th' kindest House in Denvirran Principality, she was property. And what was Railu offering? To buy her? Even if her—and Skelber's—house managed to be 'kinder' than Duncal, she would only be there because, once again, she had become a commodity.
Somewhere inside, there was a part of her that felt she deserved no better.
Railu took a long breath, calming herself. "I'm sorry, Jerya, I'm doing this very badly. Yes, you would be traded. It happened to me once, remember? I haven't forgotten how it felt… but that's not all. It couldn't happen at once, you know how the law is, but as soon as we could, we would set you free."
For long moments Jerya did not trust herself to speak at all. Free… Finally, because she could not think what else to say, she said, "How long?"
"A couple of years, I think. But Skelber has promised that as soon as he has licence to free another slave, it will be you."
Duncal had freed Railu in gratitude for allowing them to adopt Embrel, not to mention acting as wet-nurse, nursemaid, and much more. Embrel's origin being a closely-guarded secret, many eyebrows had been raised as news of Railu's manumission percolated around the neighbourhood. She, like Jerya, had once been labelled a runaway. It would seem to most people as if such early manumission was tantamount to rewarding that offence. She knew there had been grumblings among the field-hands on the estate, several of whom might reasonably feel they had a better claim. Even Railu had had to wait almost three years after Embrel's birth, because their owners had already committed to manumission for their old Cook.
Jerya knew that her chances of liberation at Duncal were remote. She could not, in conscience, deny that several others had a stronger claim. She knew that Whallin, even though he knew the reasons, had never quite got over the feeling that he had been next in line. Now he had taken that resentment to his grave. She would have argued that Rhenya, too, should be placed ahead of herself in the order. Not that anyone's ever asked me…
One thing at least was certain. If she stayed at Duncal, it would be much longer than two years before there was any chance of freedom for her.
"Two years?" she said. "He's promised?"
"Two, two and a half. Definitely less than three."
It was tempting, besure. But eighteen years of enslavement had made Jerya more cautious than she had once been. Not least because, as Railu had reminded her a few times in the early years, it was her own impetuosity that had led them both here. "And in the meantime? Those two and a half years? What would my duties be?"
Railu sighed. "Jerya, I don't want to treat you as a slave at all. But you know we have to maintain certain… appearances. Our position is a little delicate, you know. Skelber's new, and he's already shaking things up at the hospital. People know it was stagnating under the old Director, but they're wary about major changes too. And I'm a female and you know how careful I've had to be about being seen to practise healing."
"I understand. You can't afford a scandal. Can’t be too familiar with your slaves."
"In public, Jerya. Only in public."
"But in public I'll have to call you Mistress."
“How did you come here, Dortis?”
“It’s a bit of a tale, that is. Yow sure yow has time?”
“Go on.”
“Well, yow knows my master-as-was, the Earl?”
“Aye, he visited at Duncal two or three times.” It was how he was acquainted with Railu. Jerya hadn’t seen so much of him, but she had been enlisted to help carry the telescope out to the terrace. It was always galling that she could do that, as well as dusting the instrument regularly, but had never got to look through it.
“Afore Lord Hedric took the title, the Earl was his Uncle. He weren’t a well man, not ever as I rec’lect, and I got put to lookin’ after him. He had an ap-o-plexy.” Dortis beamed at getting the word right, and Jerya smiled back. “Got so he couldn’t talk clear. Twards the end, I were the only one could really understand him. S’pose ‘cause I was with him more’n anyone else. Said I’d been his voice.”
The girl coloured suddenly, inexplicably. No, not a girl, she was a young woman, though her round face and soft cheeks gave a girlish impression.
It was a moment before Dortis could continue. “Lord Hedric used to visit him. S’pose he saw… I don’t know, something in me… Anywise, after he become Earl—I mean mebbe a couple o’ years after, not so long ago, he wrote to Master Skelber. Asked me first, like.” A wondering tone: Jerya understood, it was hardly usual for masters to consult their slaves.
“Only it weren’t Master Skelber who came, it were Mistress Railu. Rode all the way by her own. They talked a while and then the Earl left me alone wi’ her.
“And then… first thing she did was pull off her wig. Course, I han’t reelised it even was a wig, but there she was, bald as yow or me. Yow could of blowed me down wi’ a breath.”
Jerya nodded. She understood very well. You might even say Railu was balder: there was never a shadow across her scalp in the mornings. But she said nothing to interrupt Dortis’s tale.
“So she asked me ‘bout carin’ for him, th’ old Earl, and I… well, yow knows her. Yow feels like yow can say anythin’. And I got to saying how… I didn’t like him, he weren’t a nice man. I know we shouldn’t talk bad of our betters, but it was true, and Mistress only smiled and said that were what she’d heard too. So I said I didn’t like him but I liked carin’ for him. I weren’t sure that even made sense, but she smiled again and said, ‘I believe Hedric’s right’—that’s what she called him, not Earl nor Lord—she said, ‘he told me you have the soul of a healer’.”
Soul of a healer… yes, thought Jerya, Earl Hedric could hardly have chosen words more apt to appeal to Railu.
“So then she ask me would I like to come to Drumlenn, learn more about healin’, how to be a real nurse.” Again Jerya heard that wondering tone: she ask me; would I like?
"And you said yes."
"I did, though I might not of if’n I’d known what it’d be like sittin’ on a horse all that way."
Jerya sympathised. She knew, more or less, how to ride. Sometimes her mistress-as-was, Lady Duncal, fancied riding into town instead of taking the carriage, and she often required Jerya to accompany her. It was not considered seemly for a genteel lady to go about unattended. But these occasions were too few and far between for Jerya’s muscles to become accustomed to the exercise. Still, it was only an hour or so each way; as far as she’d gathered, Skilthorn to Drumlenn was a full day.
"And now," said Dortis in much the same tone, "It’s learnin’ to read…"
"Maybe I can help you with that."