The 27th Day of Fall, 515 AV
It had been a strange few weeks for Kaitanu. Ever since waking unexpectedly in the vast grasslands, he had felt as though he was living in some odd kind of dream. Perhaps the giant eagle that had carried him off had killed him, leaving his bones to bleach in an unknown land while his spirt wandered abroad, thinking itself still bound to mortal toil. Sometimes he thought that could be the only answer, though everything about him seemed real enough. He still became hungry, he still needed sleep; the sun warmed his skin as ever it did. Every sense gathered information like it should. Yet here he was, walking from outside employment to his master’s home like the other freemen around him. There were slaves here as anywhere, but Kaitanu felt somehow different from them, separated by a change in his fortunes which he was only beginning to comprehend. Dravite’s broken Common could not convey the bewildering truth to him; Kaitanu did not think of himself as “free”. Nevertheless, the world around him had shifted, and even if he could not follow the new rhythm he understood it was there.
Oddest of all were the nightly rituals that awaited the kelvic. Instead of harsh demands to account for his every move that day, Kaitanu was left to go about his chores like the others. As the sun disappeared below the horizon he would find himself eating alongside Dravite and his family around the campfire, listening to them share news of the day. The first time he had been invited to join them, Kaitanu was completely non-plussed. He had taken it as a command, but why any master would choose to eat alongside a slave was beyond him. Now it was part of every day and night, to join with the family, listening to their chatter- though he didn’t understand it at all- and watching the children as they climbed over their parents and fell asleep in their mothers’ arms. Toward himself there was a shocking lack of violence from the family. More than that, Kaitanu was not set apart from them, but placed in their midst, eating the same meat, allowed to warm himself by the fire. Not just allowed, encouraged. They even made the effort to speak to him in Common. Confused as he was by this behavior it did not change from one day to the next. Fear and distrust were very slowly being eroded away, though what they would leave behind even he could not tell.
As he was thus caught up in his thoughts, Kaitanu still kept his eyes and ears open. It was a habit of old; hard-won and necessary for survival. The slender kelvic had become rather talented at avoiding contact as much as possible, and not just because touch still made him shudder. Kaitanu slipped between tents and bodies for the same reason he tried to be small and go unnoticed by others. If there was anyone in the marketplace least inclined to make trouble it was the pale, quiet horse man. In his black clothing, and with the sky going toward twilight he could blend into the shadows quite well. Only his pale head and face drew attention. Among the many earthen hues of the Drykas he couldn’t help standing out, no matter how much he tried. Mostly, Kaitanu drew stares, but that was about it. Those in the marketplace were too busy with their own concerns to heed his presence for long.
However, there were enough eyes looking for weakness that found him a tempting target. Like predators, they scented weakness in the air. Maybe they recognized the tattoo over his right cheek for what it was. Maybe they saw in him the broken spirit that would make for good sport. His humble demeanor didn’t fit well with the proud and confident air of the Drykas any more than his strange appearance. He spoke no word of the grasslands, but only the rough tongue of outsiders. In their mind he was out of place. Even to the foreign visitors the kelvic meant nothing, except to those who liked to push others around. Kaitanu might not be surrounded by the telltale jingle of a coin-purse, but either side could see him as a potential target. The thin, pale young man was clearly not a fighter.
From the very first night, once work was done, Kaitanu had been aware that he was being watched, and that it was not out of mere curiosity. On the second night, he found himself being rather unsubtly tailed. For all the kelvic’s submissive attitude, however, he had a goodly amount of experience navigating busy streets, as well as getting through with both his life and goods. Well, master’s goods. Woe betide the slave that was sent out on some errand or other and “allowed” a cutpurse to steal it from him. Kaitanu might not have money, but no thief would mind having an extra pair of boots or a slightly-used shirt. Knowing this, and that the clothes on his back belonged to Dravite, the kelvic was not about to let himself be caught out. He didn’t know, nor did he want to think about, what sort of punishment the Ankhal of Blackwater would visit on his head if so much as the belt was taken.
Deftly, Kaitanu slipped in and out of shadows, or mixed with the crowds in the main thoroughfare if those following him got too close. Whatever it took. Given the close-knit nature of the community, and the relatively small number of people when compared to Ravok or Kenash, it was more difficult for thieves to hide their designs. By the fifth day they were starting to give up on him- since what he had to steal was not worth the effort. There was, unfortunately, no shortage of those just looking for someone to push around. Nor did there seem to be as much social stigma for roughing someone up. In spite of his natural avoidance, Kaitanu couldn’t stay out of everyone’s way. He accepted whenever he was pushed or shoved without comment, so much so that, just as the thieves turned to more lucrative targets, bullies began to find him interesting. He had plenty of new bruises under his clothing to prove it.
“Hey, pretty boy!”
Kaitanu didn’t understand the words spoken in Pavi, but the horse dung thrown at the side of his head sent a clear message. Only a quick movement of his hand kept the smelly blob from getting all over his clothes. With a weary sigh, Kaitanu shook the filth from his fingers and onto the dirt, bracing for more. These things never stopped at something so light.
“Come on, foreign rat, answer us! Or can you not?”
“Of course he can’t. He only speaks the barbarian’s language.”
There followed a string of mangled Common, mostly foul words, strung together meaninglessly. Peals of laughter accompanied the obvious parody as Kaitanu walked on, not even bothering to look in their direction, but picking up the pace a bit. The Blackwater pavilion was still a ways off. Not that Kaitanu expected anyone there to come to his rescue, but seeing adults there might make the youths fall back and return to their own homes. It wasn’t as though he could duck out of sight in the bare grasslands between the tent city and his master’s…Dravite’s…pavilion.
“Hey…hey you, we’re not finished!”
Footsteps trotted through the dirt behind him, punctuated with barely-suppressed laughter. Something hard hit him in the back of the head- a rock. Not a large one, but enough to make him stumble a bit. Another hit him, then another. Pretty soon he was being pelted with stones as well as laughter. It wasn’t the first time. Kaitanu righted himself and kept walking, but the footsteps caught up with him. A tall, burly youth with dark hair stepped right in his path, and three others kept the kelvic from stepping aside. They weren’t quite as tall, but definitely heavier than the slight former slave, circling around him like wolves.
“Answer me when I speak to you!” the tallest said, again in Pavi. He began to push Kaitanu’s shoulder, as though trying to get his attention, or just to see how far he could go. The group of youths had already learned that this pale man wouldn’t fight back when they saw an older man punch him in the side of the head. Kaitanu had not, as they expected of other Drykas, returned blow for blow. He had fallen to the ground and then gotten up and apologized when he was clearly not to blame. Not only that but no one else came later on to call the man to account. For some reason that amused the bored youths.
“Knock him down!” One of the boys said eagerly.
“Yes, do it!” The others chimed in, chanting. They had circled Kaitanu and were now shoving him from one side to the other, laughing because he allowed it to happen. The kelvic was keeping his head down out of habit, not afraid so much as resigned to whatever they were going to do to him. Fighting back against the sons of freemen was unthinkable. Even a baby might have pushed him around with impunity if it knew how.
The unintelligible Pavi was interrupted by a sudden explosion of stars in his left eye. Kaitanu had more or less expected some kind of blow, but hadn’t bothered to try and block it. He even let himself be pushed backward, rolling into the ground out of instinct, rather than just slamming into it. The grass cushioned his fall somewhat, but was no protection against being kicked in the side several times. Surrounding him, their faces dark in the evening twilight, all four youths laughed quite heartily at what they were doing to the pale slave. Kaitanu didn’t cry out or try to get away, lying there like a ragdoll and utterly at their mercy. The thought never entered his head to try and stop what was being done to him. It certainly wasn’t the worst beating he’d ever gotten. Kaitanu knew from experience not to react, instead patiently waiting for the whole experience to end. The youths would get bored and move on to another target. Hopefully, Kaitanu could get back to the pavilion and wash the dirt and dung from his clothes before Dravite knew the difference.
As expected, Kaitanu was not such fun to bully as others might be, and the youths soon grew tired of kicking him about. Still laughing, they left him in the tall grass, their movements making a “swish, swish” noise that grew fainter as they vanished into the twilight. Kaitanu stayed where he was for a long while after, as if to make sure that they would suddenly burst through the foliage and start all over again. It seemed, however, that the smell of many dinners roasting over open flames had called them home. They were done with him for the day.
Getting painfully to his hands and knees, Kaitanu took a few breaths, then pushed himself onto his feet. Around him, the deepening dark of blue and grey-gold spun a bit, but not much. So long as he didn’t move too suddenly his abused midsection wouldn’t rebel and make him nauseous. Kaitanu stood for several minutes and let the chill air flow over him as night took her appointed time in the sky. Meanwhile, and almost without conscious thought, the he mentally assessed the damage. The kelvic was somewhat surprised that their blows focused mostly on his midsection. Other than a black eye and a few cuts his face had been left alone. Nothing was broken, either; just bumps and scrapes and deep bruises. It could have been a lot worse.
Still, breathing was painful, and he had to pause to get a good rhythm before heading back to the Blackwater Pavilion. By then the home fire had been lit, and Kaitanu followed its warm glow with relief. Perhaps he was starting to think of that small collection of tents as a haven of sorts. In any case, he had never been abused there, which was more than he ever could have expected. It was certainly better than what he had just gone through, no matter how normal such violence was to the slave. Kaitanu needed very little to think his lot not so bad as it might be. His only thoughts were of getting something to eat, and hopefully hiding his dirty clothes from Dravite. If he could get to sleep with something in his stomach and no further trouble then the day would not have been a bad one at all.
It had been a strange few weeks for Kaitanu. Ever since waking unexpectedly in the vast grasslands, he had felt as though he was living in some odd kind of dream. Perhaps the giant eagle that had carried him off had killed him, leaving his bones to bleach in an unknown land while his spirt wandered abroad, thinking itself still bound to mortal toil. Sometimes he thought that could be the only answer, though everything about him seemed real enough. He still became hungry, he still needed sleep; the sun warmed his skin as ever it did. Every sense gathered information like it should. Yet here he was, walking from outside employment to his master’s home like the other freemen around him. There were slaves here as anywhere, but Kaitanu felt somehow different from them, separated by a change in his fortunes which he was only beginning to comprehend. Dravite’s broken Common could not convey the bewildering truth to him; Kaitanu did not think of himself as “free”. Nevertheless, the world around him had shifted, and even if he could not follow the new rhythm he understood it was there.
Oddest of all were the nightly rituals that awaited the kelvic. Instead of harsh demands to account for his every move that day, Kaitanu was left to go about his chores like the others. As the sun disappeared below the horizon he would find himself eating alongside Dravite and his family around the campfire, listening to them share news of the day. The first time he had been invited to join them, Kaitanu was completely non-plussed. He had taken it as a command, but why any master would choose to eat alongside a slave was beyond him. Now it was part of every day and night, to join with the family, listening to their chatter- though he didn’t understand it at all- and watching the children as they climbed over their parents and fell asleep in their mothers’ arms. Toward himself there was a shocking lack of violence from the family. More than that, Kaitanu was not set apart from them, but placed in their midst, eating the same meat, allowed to warm himself by the fire. Not just allowed, encouraged. They even made the effort to speak to him in Common. Confused as he was by this behavior it did not change from one day to the next. Fear and distrust were very slowly being eroded away, though what they would leave behind even he could not tell.
As he was thus caught up in his thoughts, Kaitanu still kept his eyes and ears open. It was a habit of old; hard-won and necessary for survival. The slender kelvic had become rather talented at avoiding contact as much as possible, and not just because touch still made him shudder. Kaitanu slipped between tents and bodies for the same reason he tried to be small and go unnoticed by others. If there was anyone in the marketplace least inclined to make trouble it was the pale, quiet horse man. In his black clothing, and with the sky going toward twilight he could blend into the shadows quite well. Only his pale head and face drew attention. Among the many earthen hues of the Drykas he couldn’t help standing out, no matter how much he tried. Mostly, Kaitanu drew stares, but that was about it. Those in the marketplace were too busy with their own concerns to heed his presence for long.
However, there were enough eyes looking for weakness that found him a tempting target. Like predators, they scented weakness in the air. Maybe they recognized the tattoo over his right cheek for what it was. Maybe they saw in him the broken spirit that would make for good sport. His humble demeanor didn’t fit well with the proud and confident air of the Drykas any more than his strange appearance. He spoke no word of the grasslands, but only the rough tongue of outsiders. In their mind he was out of place. Even to the foreign visitors the kelvic meant nothing, except to those who liked to push others around. Kaitanu might not be surrounded by the telltale jingle of a coin-purse, but either side could see him as a potential target. The thin, pale young man was clearly not a fighter.
From the very first night, once work was done, Kaitanu had been aware that he was being watched, and that it was not out of mere curiosity. On the second night, he found himself being rather unsubtly tailed. For all the kelvic’s submissive attitude, however, he had a goodly amount of experience navigating busy streets, as well as getting through with both his life and goods. Well, master’s goods. Woe betide the slave that was sent out on some errand or other and “allowed” a cutpurse to steal it from him. Kaitanu might not have money, but no thief would mind having an extra pair of boots or a slightly-used shirt. Knowing this, and that the clothes on his back belonged to Dravite, the kelvic was not about to let himself be caught out. He didn’t know, nor did he want to think about, what sort of punishment the Ankhal of Blackwater would visit on his head if so much as the belt was taken.
Deftly, Kaitanu slipped in and out of shadows, or mixed with the crowds in the main thoroughfare if those following him got too close. Whatever it took. Given the close-knit nature of the community, and the relatively small number of people when compared to Ravok or Kenash, it was more difficult for thieves to hide their designs. By the fifth day they were starting to give up on him- since what he had to steal was not worth the effort. There was, unfortunately, no shortage of those just looking for someone to push around. Nor did there seem to be as much social stigma for roughing someone up. In spite of his natural avoidance, Kaitanu couldn’t stay out of everyone’s way. He accepted whenever he was pushed or shoved without comment, so much so that, just as the thieves turned to more lucrative targets, bullies began to find him interesting. He had plenty of new bruises under his clothing to prove it.
“Hey, pretty boy!”
Kaitanu didn’t understand the words spoken in Pavi, but the horse dung thrown at the side of his head sent a clear message. Only a quick movement of his hand kept the smelly blob from getting all over his clothes. With a weary sigh, Kaitanu shook the filth from his fingers and onto the dirt, bracing for more. These things never stopped at something so light.
“Come on, foreign rat, answer us! Or can you not?”
“Of course he can’t. He only speaks the barbarian’s language.”
There followed a string of mangled Common, mostly foul words, strung together meaninglessly. Peals of laughter accompanied the obvious parody as Kaitanu walked on, not even bothering to look in their direction, but picking up the pace a bit. The Blackwater pavilion was still a ways off. Not that Kaitanu expected anyone there to come to his rescue, but seeing adults there might make the youths fall back and return to their own homes. It wasn’t as though he could duck out of sight in the bare grasslands between the tent city and his master’s…Dravite’s…pavilion.
“Hey…hey you, we’re not finished!”
Footsteps trotted through the dirt behind him, punctuated with barely-suppressed laughter. Something hard hit him in the back of the head- a rock. Not a large one, but enough to make him stumble a bit. Another hit him, then another. Pretty soon he was being pelted with stones as well as laughter. It wasn’t the first time. Kaitanu righted himself and kept walking, but the footsteps caught up with him. A tall, burly youth with dark hair stepped right in his path, and three others kept the kelvic from stepping aside. They weren’t quite as tall, but definitely heavier than the slight former slave, circling around him like wolves.
“Answer me when I speak to you!” the tallest said, again in Pavi. He began to push Kaitanu’s shoulder, as though trying to get his attention, or just to see how far he could go. The group of youths had already learned that this pale man wouldn’t fight back when they saw an older man punch him in the side of the head. Kaitanu had not, as they expected of other Drykas, returned blow for blow. He had fallen to the ground and then gotten up and apologized when he was clearly not to blame. Not only that but no one else came later on to call the man to account. For some reason that amused the bored youths.
“Knock him down!” One of the boys said eagerly.
“Yes, do it!” The others chimed in, chanting. They had circled Kaitanu and were now shoving him from one side to the other, laughing because he allowed it to happen. The kelvic was keeping his head down out of habit, not afraid so much as resigned to whatever they were going to do to him. Fighting back against the sons of freemen was unthinkable. Even a baby might have pushed him around with impunity if it knew how.
The unintelligible Pavi was interrupted by a sudden explosion of stars in his left eye. Kaitanu had more or less expected some kind of blow, but hadn’t bothered to try and block it. He even let himself be pushed backward, rolling into the ground out of instinct, rather than just slamming into it. The grass cushioned his fall somewhat, but was no protection against being kicked in the side several times. Surrounding him, their faces dark in the evening twilight, all four youths laughed quite heartily at what they were doing to the pale slave. Kaitanu didn’t cry out or try to get away, lying there like a ragdoll and utterly at their mercy. The thought never entered his head to try and stop what was being done to him. It certainly wasn’t the worst beating he’d ever gotten. Kaitanu knew from experience not to react, instead patiently waiting for the whole experience to end. The youths would get bored and move on to another target. Hopefully, Kaitanu could get back to the pavilion and wash the dirt and dung from his clothes before Dravite knew the difference.
As expected, Kaitanu was not such fun to bully as others might be, and the youths soon grew tired of kicking him about. Still laughing, they left him in the tall grass, their movements making a “swish, swish” noise that grew fainter as they vanished into the twilight. Kaitanu stayed where he was for a long while after, as if to make sure that they would suddenly burst through the foliage and start all over again. It seemed, however, that the smell of many dinners roasting over open flames had called them home. They were done with him for the day.
Getting painfully to his hands and knees, Kaitanu took a few breaths, then pushed himself onto his feet. Around him, the deepening dark of blue and grey-gold spun a bit, but not much. So long as he didn’t move too suddenly his abused midsection wouldn’t rebel and make him nauseous. Kaitanu stood for several minutes and let the chill air flow over him as night took her appointed time in the sky. Meanwhile, and almost without conscious thought, the he mentally assessed the damage. The kelvic was somewhat surprised that their blows focused mostly on his midsection. Other than a black eye and a few cuts his face had been left alone. Nothing was broken, either; just bumps and scrapes and deep bruises. It could have been a lot worse.
Still, breathing was painful, and he had to pause to get a good rhythm before heading back to the Blackwater Pavilion. By then the home fire had been lit, and Kaitanu followed its warm glow with relief. Perhaps he was starting to think of that small collection of tents as a haven of sorts. In any case, he had never been abused there, which was more than he ever could have expected. It was certainly better than what he had just gone through, no matter how normal such violence was to the slave. Kaitanu needed very little to think his lot not so bad as it might be. His only thoughts were of getting something to eat, and hopefully hiding his dirty clothes from Dravite. If he could get to sleep with something in his stomach and no further trouble then the day would not have been a bad one at all.