You know, 9 years can be a very long time. Some people think that would be short-- that life is short. Not that I don't agree, but it does matter what you do with your days and nights. Take mine, for example: tracking game for a bottomless pit and not being allowed to hunt it-- that's her pleasure-- being fed scraps of raw meat on occasion and feeling your stomach grumble later that night, so you sneak out and scrounge around in the darkness for grubs and plants, hoping that you won't be poisoned again this time; getting a perpetual hissing in your ears from hearing it so often that you can't tell if you're being talked to or not; hearing an infernal rattling sound at odd times during the night; waking up with a snake snoring on top of you; having to help her when she sheds her outer skin; never knowing if she's teasing you or being serious.
That's my life, folks. A slave-- fullblown, Chaktawe slave-- to a Dhani rattler named Osaleni. But you know what? I don't hate my master or my life. I really cannot complain about my predicament-- it's my fault this happened, every last bit of it.
You see, I was arrogant in my youth, and well, thought I was invincible and forever. I'm pretty sure I was Kalanue, you know, the raven tribe? We haggled (and hassled) with Benshiran traders, dealt with runaway goats on treacherous terrain. And, embarrassingly enough, I learned this truth from listening to a drunk savant in a tavern one night-- you know you've got a bad upbringing when you can't remember anything about it, and have to take a stranger's word for it. See, he thought I was Chaktawe-- pointed out my 'copper miza' skin and the like. I had insisted the contrary, but the drunk was quite asinine about it. So I entertained him-- I usually don't let on my heritage, because I'm ashamed that I was punished by the crow god, Eywaat-- blessed be his name. So as he told me bits of lore through foul breath and speech, I felt something in my mind unlocking.
It was true-- I am Kalanue tribe, and I absolutely hate the fact. What I remember for sure, was boasting at a young age about my tracking skills-- proven by my trophy of desert pelts hanging next to my father's and brother's-- and how there was nothing I couldn't track. My father and brothers taught me well, you might say... they certainly did, and I let it all go to my head. I was told that I would do very well on my Rite. You know, Rite of Searching? Having much praise and esteem from my extended family, which honored my father and elated his pride, I was expected to return a true Kalanue man.
Little did they know...
My first mistake was not praying. I'd like to think that I felt too unworthy to pray to my crow brother, but I'd be only fooling myself. In stark arrogance I neglected to rely on my people's patron god, attempting only to survive on tracking game and finding spots of water wherever I could find them. I don't know how long I was out there in the desert, but I knew I hadn't met my family guardian. I mean, I didn't pray, after all. I should have died, right? That would've been my prophecy: "Arrogant Kalanue Youth Found Dead Next to Ancient Cactus." But it would seem that Eywaat had something else in mind-- at least, that is what I have come to believe.
Imagine, if you would, that the glorious sun is high in the cloudless sky and in the distance, you see a mirage. You think it's a mirage, because no snake could be that big. You ignore it, knowing that you can't let your mind play tricks on you. The mirage came closer, hissing a tickle down my spine. Frozen in dazed fear-- literally feeling the moving air currents at my fingertips-- the mirage suddenly lunged at me, knocking my scrawny little body into the gritty sand. I don't remember much after that, except the feeling of being dragged.
Do you have any idea how helpless it feels when you're dragged against your will? I don't know if the snake had bitten me or not, but I do know one thing: I woke up to a beautiful (and strange) maiden astride my body. Imagine how a 15-year-old boy barely making it through puberty would react to waking up to a delightful face whose body's gentle rubbings didn't help matters much. I was quite infatuated. Initially, I had believed that this woman saved me from that snake mirage. She explained in what little common tongue we shared that she had saved from the desert's ravages, one of which were thirsty bandits wanting my water organ. Needless to say, I was very relieved for the rescue-- one too many stories from your older brother about how foolish Kalanue lose their guts can make you stay up at night, eyes wide, buttocks clenched, and your hands clutching your stomach.
Of course, I had no idea where I was-- the scenery had changed. No longer in a desolate desert, but somewhere north of Eyktol (I think, anyway), I stayed with this girl who called herself Osaleni-- we were traveling with a large caravan. It was an interesting sight, seeing all these other people that wore different clothing and demonstrated unique mannerisms. They regarded me with a kind, but distant demeanor-- at least I thought it was kind. Their foreign words disheartening, I stayed close to Osa, she was my savior after all. I kept wondering when I'd go home, though. Looking back on this moment, I'd castrate myself if it meant I could go back and slap the naivety out of me--- then again, maybe I wouldn't...
As we traveled, Osaleni began to order me around-- not that I minded at first, because she did save me, after all. I was grateful to her, owed her my life, and my father had taught me a thing or two about honor, and honoring one's debts. Of course, the chores were petty, but needed to be done regardless of what one thought of them. It wasn't unlike living back home, though some of her requests were a bit odd. Whenever she left the caravans for some reason, I was forced to stay with the strange people that, most of the time, regarded me like a mangy mutt. Another rule was that I was not allowed to look at her in the eyes-- weird, but I figured that it was due to some foreign religious thing she had to follow, like how some women covered up their whole bodies. She also insisted that I'd leave her alone when she ate, which meant I had to stay outside the wagon and make sure nobody interrupted her quiet time. I had guessed that maybe she was embarrassed about her manners-- a silly reason to want to be left alone, right? I look back on it now, though, and realized that I never had to clean her plate or dispose of inedible parts. Her meals were always gone-- poof, and completely swallowed up without a trace.
Many sunsets and rises came and gone, and we had arrived finally at some bustling city. The sights were amazing, but it did make me think of home. When I had lightly asked when I'd get to show her my family and homeland, she insisted that neither of them had any way of making it back there through the desert without some wise savant or desert guide to lead them. It made sense to me then, but again, looking back on it, it was a rather convenient excuse. So, as darkness fell upon the city, Osaleni led me to a wooden den that was broken down and really didn't seem like anyone could live there. In a backroom, she told me to sit on the bed and wait for her to return, explaining that she'll be back soon. Like a faithful little puppy, I obeyed, and waited. And waited... counted the stars in the clear night sky-- I didn't know it then, but I had an inkling that I was far away from home, because even the signs in the sky were different.
I think I must have fallen asleep, because the next thing I knew, I was waking up feeling hugged to death. My eyes wide with confusion and terror, I realized the snake had returned! At least, I thought it was that old snake mirage, but it did look a little different-- bright colors instead of a black and white overtone. My whole body was wrapped up by this constricting nightmare, its large eyes hovering before mine, and its mouth opening slower-- it was so close I could count its fangs! There was then, I think, the sound of a door busting open-- both my diner and I lurched our gaze to the interruption. Standing there, seething with hair-raising anger, was Osaleni, looking as though a snake had swallowed half her lower body. The other snake loosened its grip on me, apparently more interested in Osaleni. It was then I realized, as I huddled under the bed, my bones threatening to crack, that Osaleni was half-snake, half-human; I could not breathe. The two of them hissed back and forth at each other, her face contorting as though she was in a heated debate. I couldn't take my eyes off of her-- she was as beautiful as she was scary.
After a few good moments, the larger snake apparently decided that Osaleni, whatever she had been saying, was right, and so it had to leave... she turned her gaze to me, her exotic, double hued eyes locking with mine. Slithering toward me, she suddenly maneuvered away, just in time as the bigger snake returned, I guess, trying to fake her out and attack her with her guard down. Her counterattack was swift-- a single bite to the head and it was writhing in pain and agony, hissing and, at times, screaming. By the time it was over, I had fainted, but not before I heard Osaleni speaking sibilantly in common-tongue, "Nobody eatss my sslave, but I, and I alone."
The next morning (I think it was the next morning, anyway), we were back on the road again, traveling with a different caravan this time. Neither of us spoke to each other, or at least I didn't talk-- I could tell Osaleni seemed concerned-- trying to catch my eye and all-- with my comprehension of what I had become to her. Still, I went through the motions of serving her, doing whatever she wanted, most of which were simply waiting on her. Whenever a disobedient thought crossed my mind, that scene between her and the constrictor (I learned later that there were three kinds of Dhani breeds) rose up from my memory and set my idle mind straight.
Over time, though, I came out of my shell-- it wasn't like Osaleni ruthlessly beat me or tortured me, or anything. As long as I was a good boy who obeyed her orders, she was happy. Of course, every now and then I got slapped upside the head for a minor mishap or slip. Occasionally, she would tease me physically, though I would have preferred that she'd do that in her human form, not her snake ones. I mean, it's sort of hard to tell if a snake is playing with you, right? As we traveled, we began to talk more and more, never really addressing our new relationship, that she was my master and I, her slave. It was, at least to me, a forbidden subject, and bringing it up would rile her wrath against me. She told me a bit about the Dhani, her interests, though it was hard to get the facts out of her, for whatever reason, and a bit about magic. I did, however, come to understand her snake tongue-- I really had no choice, as she mostly speaks common when we're in public. Of course, I never spoke it out of fear that she'd hit me for being silly.
One day, though, I was really thinking hard about it (my new life)-- and missing my family and tribe, and my time back at home. So I just blurted out "Why, master?" Before I could even correct myself, she answered, as if she knew what I had been thinking right then-- as if she had been waiting forever to answer that question. Sometimes I wonder if she was a mind-reader. "Would you have preferred if I had eaten you?" she asked me. I hadn't thought about it that way, but I'm sure Eywaat did when he decided my fate.
Perhaps the wisest thing I had ever done, at that point in my life anyway, was deciding to willfully focus on the present, and not dwell on the past. As the seasons went by, my master and I were forced to keep traveling-- I didn't really know why at the time, but thinking about it now, I'd say the reason was to avoid other Dhani as well as Dhani hunters. Just as well, we had stopped traveling with caravans due to a notice that had gone up between trading posts. Something about a Dhani poser hiding among traders and their wagons-- I guess that was us, because the very same night we learned about that, master and I fled into the wilderness. That was when my slave duties were amped up to the moon.
Fortunately, I had acquired some 'lore' (strange word, honestly) about wilderness survival techniques. I had asked a trader one day while Osaleni was out (hunting, I presumed) how come there weren't villages or small towns between cities and such. He had a wry smile-- and explained that it's too difficult to maintain an outpost if it's too small. The wilderness was a harsh world in-between specks of civilization, he said, and asked if I knew anything about surviving in the wild. I am so glad that by then, my arrogance had gone down drastically-- I accepted his various teachings about survival techniques, the most prominent one being 'learning to cover your tracks' so you're not followed.
So my master and I continued our travels, alone, and in the vast wilderness. It was not easy-- nothing ever is, really, and if it's not, is it worth doing? I often wonder that when I'm serving Osaleni-- damn Siku for making her so beautiful. Anyway, reaching the next town or city was always the highlight of my wilderness days-- I mean, we could only stay out there for a week, if even that, before the pressure became too great. Not to mention all the monsters we saw from time to time; I know we were blessed to avoid being seen by them, and of course, master and I picked our hunting trails carefully. It was my job to track down the small prey and her job to hunt it down and kill it. That was one good thing from my past: tracking. Sometimes though, it made me feel too nostalgic and forlorn to eat supper. Other times, though, I had to eat-- master sometimes got sick or even too exhausted to go out on the hunt. I took up fishing and cooking then, teaching myself and experimenting, and wanting to make sure that she ate good food.
You might wonder why I cared about my master's health-- after all, she had enslaved me against my will. Thing is, she was kind to me then, and still is now. Also, I wouldn't have survived for very long without her. There were many times when she had protected me against an enraged animal that had slipped into our camp. Weaponless, I could do nothing against natural claws and tusks, but Osaleni had her fangs. We usually ate well that night, but sometimes we had to flee-- sometimes poison was not enough.
So she decided to give me a weapon-- she actually gave me 100 gold miza when we had reached a market place. "Choose well," she had said. Honestly, I felt too scrawny and weak to use a melee-type weapon-- see, I wanted to fight from a distance, because, I mean, if you had the choice to inflict damage without risking harm, wouldn't you take that? Cowardice and rules means nothing when it comes to your survival-- a lesson I had learned quite well. So she left to do her own thing, and I went shopping for some kind of range weapon. Perhaps you're wondering if escaping ever crossed my mind then? Especially since I was left alone? Let me enlighten you: I've only tried to escape twice in the first five years of my servitude, and each time, Osaleni found me within the next day. I don't know how she did it, but it was enough to make me feel that death was the only way out-- and I wasn't about to consider that.
After trying out a few shortbows, I realized I didn't have the arm strength for it. Also, I didn't want to lug those things around and a quiver. I wanted something else-- the trader offered me a strange wooden stick, which, after inspecting it, I realized was a pipe. He explained in fluent common that it was a blowpipe and that you used your breath to push a needle or dart out of it to strike your target. Needless to say, I was intrigued-- so he offered me a deal. If I could hit a distant bird perching on a rooftop, he'd let me buy it at half-price. So I gave it a shot... I didn't hit the bird, but I did scare it away. I liked the weapon, but it bothered me that I couldn't hit the stupid bird-- the man told me to just practice and do breathing exercises; a weird suggestion, I had thought-- I mean, I breathe everyday. After buying some needles, too, I thanked the man and went on my way.
Osaleni was dubious about my choice for a weapon, and even took back my money until I proved to her that it was money well-spent. So the next few days, I practiced hitting a marked target (I scratched the bark away) on a tree. Master was impressed with my accuracy, but expressed doubt that such a thing could take down a real animal. So was I, after hearing that, but the solution was obvious: go track something down and shoot it! It worked out pretty well, and to this day, I continue to practice my accuracy-- master even suggested I try pretend-fighting and shoot from various positions. Of course, I obliged; however, it wasn't easy keeping track of my needles, so I tried to make my own. It was horrible, but I was clever-- I asked master for some poison from her fangs. She was thrilled at the idea and readily stuck some needles onto her fangs. It worked good enough for small game, but I was, and still am, very keen to seek out some real knowledge on the subject of blowpipes, darts, and marksmanship.
Well, the last thing you should probably know, is that I have a talent for what is called auristics. I honestly don't know what it's for, except that it is magic and that I sort of discovered it on my own. It happened one night, when Osaleni was watching and listening to the wilderness sounds, that I saw her glowing. At first, I thought it was the moonlight, but after a cloud passed and shrouded it, the lunar rays disappeared, but still my master was aglow. I was kind of afraid, but at the same time, I sensed that she was sad for some reason. I expressed this incident to her the next morning, explaining what I saw and felt. She slapped me upside the head for waiting to tell her, but simply retorted that we needed to get me 'inspected.'
Sometime after that episode, we happened upon a campsite that wasn't our own. There were five men and one woman, staring up at us, their weapons readied. Osaleni managed to persuade them that we were harmless, and I was quite glad she succeeded because those men were scary to behold. The leader of the group was a professional wizard named Saivone Masaiken, who was both an aurist and magesmith. Yes, I know, but remember, I don't know my real name-- I forgot it. Osaleni simply called me 'boy.' Anyway, master, being a magesmith herself, took in his confidence as they ate together and discussed my previous incident. He seemed reluctant to inspect me, but I knew he wouldn't last long if he kept her company. So the next morning, before they headed out, Saivone tested me and explained a little bit about auras, djed, and magic in general. He even gave me a rock, and told me to practice looking at its aura. At first, I thought it was a special rock, but he explained even mundane things have auras. It was a really puzzling concept-- that everything had 'djed' in them, and therefore, auras. In the end, we parted ways and I practiced a little 'auristics' every now and then. It made me awfully tired just trying to stare at a rock's aura.
Lastly, my master renamed me that very same day we left the aurist and his group. She explained that she didn't want to forget his name, and so, made me a reminder-- literally. I didn't really care, I was actually very glad to have a name. Because at least she could now stop calling me 'boy' all the time.
