Despite the rule of silence in the slave convoy, there were muttered exclamations as the wagons descended out of the Fortung Mountains into Khadora. For the Fakaran prisoners who had spent their lives in a barren wasteland, the lush fields of Khadora were a sight to behold. The height of the mountains afforded a panoramic view of a nation blessed with fertile soil and thriving commerce. From their high vantage point, the slaves were afforded views of barges traveling down the Khadora River and colorful wagon conveys traversing the roads. The barges were loaded with livestock and produce and one could only imagine the contents of the wagons. Even the air smelled sweeter on the Khadoran side of the mountains and many of the slaves wore smiles of excitement and appeared to forget their bondage.
“With all of this wealth in Khadora,” Rejji whispered, “why would Brontos waste his time coming to Fakara? What do we have to offer that could not be found here?”
“I would suspect there is more profit in supplying things where the items are not plentiful,” responded Mistake. “The goods you see moving on those barges are certainly plentiful here. I guess they are also cheap here.”
“But not in Fakara,” Rejji added. “And the shark’s teeth from my village could not be found here at all I bet. So he makes his gold by transporting goods where they are plentiful and common to areas that lack them.”
“Makes sense,” Mistake agreed. “I wonder what our lives would have been like if we had been born in a paradise like this.”
“From what Brontos said,” Rejji replied, “not everything is paradise here. Do not forget that we are to be sold as slaves.”
“Not for long,” promised Mistake. “I will run away the first chance I get. I am sure I can make a living somehow on my own.”
“I wonder how,” frowned Rejji.
“I will do what I must to survive,” declared Mistake. “Would you do any differently?”
“I could envision myself as a merchant in this land,” sighed Rejji. “Remember what Brontos said though. Everyone belongs to a clan here. They will kill you if you are caught escaping.”
“They will have to catch me first,” retorted Mistake.
“Quiet,” shouted one of the slavers.
The noise from the slaves ceased but everyone clung to the rungs of the cage and peered at the landscape as the caravan progressed. The whole morning and most of the afternoon was spent traveling down from the mountains and late in the afternoon, the convoy turned off the road to enter an estate. Soldiers in white uniforms with blue waistbands, armbands and headbands stopped the wagons. After a short pause, the convoy continued down a smaller road with large fields of wasooki on each side.
Rejji watched in wonder as they continued down the road and fields, rich in the green splendor of some type of vegetable, replaced the fields of wasooki. Buildings started to appear after a while and people working in the fields. When the vegetable fields faded, smaller fields with clova in them appeared and Rejji shot a look at Bakhai who had moaned audibly. Rejji moved his seat to sit next to Bakhai as the caravan turned in front of a large mansion and stopped.
“Are you sick?” Rejji whispered. “I heard you moan.”
Bakhai shook his head. “The wasooki looked wonderful,” he said, “but those clova are dying.”
Rejji tried to look back at the clova fields, but they were no longer visible. The slavers appeared at the back of the wagon and unlocked the door and ordered everyone out. The slaves were ordered to stand in a straight line and Rejji ended up being separated from both Bakhai and Mistake. Slaves from the other wagons were also being lined up and three people came out of the mansion and greeted the head slaver. Rejji was close enough to hear the introductions. He learned that the name of the tall, lean slave master was Mulando. The man in the military uniform was Marshal Ulmreto of the Pikata clan and the other two were Bursar Wicado and Seneschal Trang.
Each of the Pikata people inspected the slaves. From their comments they were not thrilled with the quality of the slaves. They complained about the age and fitness of the slaves and generally acted disinterested. The only one to inspect Rejji was Marshal Ulmreto. He sized Rejji up as Wyant had when he joined the Zaldoni, but the Marshal was not impressed and moved on down the line.
Mistake was the only slave chosen when the Seneschal picked her out, after learning that the girl could read and write. The Seneschal and Mulando went off to one side and started bickering about the price for Mistake as the other slavers started putting the slaves back in the wagons. Rejji grew frantic at the thought of being separated from Mistake and tried to figure out what skills he could proclaim to have so that he would be chosen to stay with her. He hung his head in defeat as the slavers gathered up the slaves for his wagon and started to herd them back in.
As the slaver grabbed his arm to push him into the wagon, Rejji said, “Wait.”
The slaver hesitated a moment and Rejji turned to him. “I think I can sell a few more of us if you give me the chance.”
The slaver stared at him strangely for a moment and then started to push Rejji in, when another slaver spoke, “Why not give him a chance? The quicker we get rid of them, the sooner we can get out of this country.”
The slaver with his arm on Rejji hesitated again. He pulled Rejji back out of the wagon. “If you are thinking of doing something to make fools of us,” he warned, “I will make you very sorry.”
“No,” promised Rejji. “This place looks very nice to me and I think I can convince them that we have talents they can use. I am tired of living in a cage. I would rather be a slave here than continue riding. I promise I will try my best.”
“What talents do you have?” the slaver asked.
The commotion was starting to draw attention and Rejji looked around for the Marshal, but he had already left. He still hadn’t figured out what talents he could profess to have, but an idea popped into his head. He saw Bursar Wicado staring at him and the slaver and boldly walked over to him.
“Bursar, Sir,” Rejji said respectfully, “there is one in the wagon with me who can help you a great deal.”
The slaver Rejji had slipped away from came up behind him and Rejji could hear the man growling, but the Bursar looked amused.
“And you have great knowledge of what my needs are?” smiled the Bursar. “I suppose you ran an estate of your own in Fakara?”
Rejji shook his head. “No, Sir,” Rejji said, “but I know that your clova are very sick and in danger of dying. I also know one of the slaves who can help you with that problem.”
“Is that so?” the Bursar questioned as his eyebrows rose. “You are familiar with raising clova?”
“No, Sir,” smiled Rejji. “I am a merchant, but that doesn’t stop me from observing things. One of the slaves remarked on the good quality of your wasooki, but was astonished at the poor quality of your clova. He expects they will die if not cared for. He has a way with animals that is quite miraculous.”
“I am sorry Bursar for this display of rudeness,” the slaver behind Rejji intoned as he grabbed Rejji by the shoulder. “I will throw him back in the wagon.”
“No,” interrupted the Bursar. “I am interested in this animal healer. Leave this boy here too. I wish to learn more of him.”
The slaver looked genuinely surprised and asked Rejji whom the Bursar was requesting. Rejji described Bakhai and the slaver set off to get him.
“What type of merchant were you in Fakara?” the Bursar asked.
“I traded many things,” Rejji stated, “but I controlled the only supply of petrified shark’s teeth in Fakara. “I presume you have seen them for sale here in Khadora. I traded exclusively with Brontos of Khadora.”
“Hmm,” muttered the Bursar. “I am not into jewelry very much, but I do recall seeing those. Very expensive if I recall. How did you manage to get enslaved with such a lucrative business?”
“Bandits,” frowned Rejji. “They destroyed my entire village and my business with it.”
“Most unfortunate,” Wicado said. “Do you know how to read and write?”
“Oh yes,” smiled Rejji. “I know numbers as well.”
The slaver pushed Bakhai over to stand next to Rejji.
“I understand that you think our clova are sick,” the Bursar stated. “Why do you believe that?”
“I looked at them and heard them,” Bakhai answered.
“Heard them?” questioned the Bursar. “You can tell if an animal is sick by listening to it?”
Bakhai just nodded.
“Can you cure them?” Wicado asked.
“I don’t know,” Bakhai answered. “I would have to find out why they are sick.”
“And do you know how to determine why they are sick?” Wicado asked.
Rejji cringed and hoped Bakhai would not say that he was going to ask the clova what ailed them.
“Yes,” Bakhai answered. “I think I can figure it out.”
“Well if the price for you is not too high,” smiled the Bursar, “perhaps you will get the chance to prove your worth. I will go talk to Mulando.”
Rejji sighed as the Bursar stepped away and the slaver shoved him and Bakhai towards the wagon. He may have succeeded in getting Bakhai sold, but that only meant that he would be leaving both of his friends behind. The whole time he was selling Bakhai, he was trying to figure what skills he had that he could sell and had come up empty.
He saw Mulando looking towards the wagon and shaking his head as he spoke with the Bursar. Mulando called the slaver at Rejji’s wagon over and the slaver came back and fetched Bakhai. He took Bakhai over to stand next to Mistake. Rejji looked around hoping to see somebody performing tasks that he could do, but there had been only a limited number of skills needed in the village he grew up in. He could do almost any menial task, but so could all of the other slaves and that alone would not entice the buyers into choosing him.
While Rejji was looking around, he saw another traveling merchant with a wagon like the one that Brontos had. He saw the merchant staring at him, but the man looked away when Rejji made eye contact. It made him wonder if Brontos ever came to this estate. When Rejji returned his attention to Mulando, his heart sank. Mistake and Bakhai were gone, as was the Seneschal. The Bursar was heading towards the traveling merchant and Mulando was calling to his men to return to the wagons and prepare to leave. Rejji hung his head in despair and suddenly felt very lonely. He suddenly realized how much he enjoyed Mistake’s company and knew he would miss Bakhai as well.
The wagons started rolling and Rejji looked out to see if he could catch a last glimpse of his friends. Rejji’s wagon was first in the procession and it stopped alongside the merchant’s wagon. Mulando suddenly appeared at the rear and opened the door. He reached in and grabbed Rejji by the arm and motioned him out. He put his hand on Rejji’s shoulder and marched him over to the Bursar who was talking to the merchant. Without a word, Mulando turned and returned to the convoy and the caravan continued down the small road leading off the estate.
Rejji stood quietly as the Bursar and the merchant discussed the terms of a contract. Rejji did not pay attention to the conversation, but rather focused on the elation he felt at being left at the estate. Lost in his own thought, he did not hear the Bursar addressing him the first time. Suddenly the Bursar placed his hand on Rejji’s shoulder.
“What are you called?” the Bursar asked.
“I am sorry, Sir,” Rejji apologized. “I am called Rejji. Thank you for selecting me.”
The merchant climbed aboard his wagon and left as the Bursar led Rejji into the mansion. “We have strict rules here in Khadora that may seem foreign to you,” The Bursar said as they walked. “You shall never lie. If you do, you will die. If you try to escape, you will die. You are to speak only when spoken to, unless you and I are alone. I will allow you to speak in my presence. In fact, I would like to learn more about you. I am not sure why I purchased you, for you have no marketable skills that I can tell, but you intrigue me. You job here will be to do whatever I need done. I am sure I will find work for you.”
Rejji stared at the entrance hall of the mansion. The floor was polished stone and the doors off the hall were ornate wood. There was a large wooden staircase going upstairs with archways on either side of it. Rejji had never seen such splendor. Wicado led Rejji through one of the archways and halted a man wearing a brown tunic.
“Get this boy cleaned up, feed him and show him to his quarters,” he instructed the man.
The man nodded and grabbed Rejji’s arm and led him down a corridor and into a room with several large tubs in it. The man told Rejji to remove his clothes and started dumping buckets of water into one of the tubs. As Rejji climbed into the tub, the man grabbed Rejji’s old clothes and threw them in a basket of rags. As Rejji washed up, he watched the man, who he realized was probably a slave. The man went to some shelves and picked out new clothes for Rejji, brown like his own. Rejji wondered if the others had gone through the same procedure and what would be said when they found Mistake’s hidden knives. He wondered what her duties were going to be and if he would ever see her again.
After Rejji was dressed the slave took Rejji to the kitchen and gave him a bowl of stew. He also got a bowl for himself and sat next to Rejji.
“My name is Lam,” he offered. “If you have questions you can ask me.”
“I am Rejji,” smiled Rejji. “Thanks for helping me. I may need help understanding things, I am Fakaran.”
“You will do fine,” the man smiled. “Working in the mansion is not so bad. Those that work outside have it much worse.”
Rejji's thoughts turned to Bakhai and he wondered how the animal boy would adjust. “Do all of the slaves sleep together?” he asked.
“No,” Lam replied. “Inside slaves live in the basement. Two rooms. One for boys. One for girls. The outside people live in huts. They are crowded and leak when it rains. Much better inside. Food is better in here too.”
“What will happen to our old clothes?” Rejji asked while thinking about the animal skins his two friends wore.
“Rag pile,” offered Lam. “You won’t need them anymore.”
“Does anyone ever get out slavery?” Rejji asked.
“No,” Lam stated as he shook his head. “Some have tried escaping, but their deaths are made public to discourage others from running away. Do not even think of such a thing.”
“Nobody ever leaves?” frowned Rejji.
“Oh some are sold to other estates,” offered Lam, “but other than that, this is your home for the rest of your life. You would be wise to accept that and make the best out of it. I have seen many new people in my years here and those who have suffered the most are those who refuse to accept their lot in life.”
Rejji’s thoughts immediately turned to Mistake. He knew she could not accept her life here. Not that anyone would readily give up all hope of freedom, but Mistake’s very nature would cause her to fight it until she died.”
“Is it possible to talk to other slaves?” Rejji inquired.
“Sometimes,” Lam said. “It depends on their positions. If you live in the same hut as another slave, you can talk all night if you want, or if you are working a joint task that requires talking, like preparing meals. If you are caught talking when you are supposed to be working, the watchers will beat you.”
“What about downstairs?” asked Rejji wondering if Mistake was an outside or inside slave.
“It is possible here at night,” Lam nodded. “If you sleep in the same room, then nobody cares.” Lam smiled suddenly and continued, “If you mean a girl who works inside, it is still possible. While you cannot enter the girls’ room, there is a third room down there. It is a large room with benches that we can use for hobbies, like stitching or drawing. There is always a watcher there and they do not like large groups getting together, but they do not mind a boy and girl talking unless they think you are plotting something. If you get marked as a troublemaker, they will always watch you closely and you will not be allowed to speak to anyone. Let me show you where you will stay.”
Lam led Rejji downstairs to the slave quarters. He showed Rejji the large communal room with doors to the separate sleeping quarters. As he had been used to staying up nights talking and sleeping days, Rejji was exhausted. When Lam showed him the mat he was to use, Rejji curled up and went to sleep.
The slaves returning from their day’s work did not disturb Rejji, but the commotion in the morning as everyone scurried about to prepare for a new day brought Rejji wide awake. As everyone filtered out of the room, Lam was there to show Rejji to the Bursar’s office.
Wicado’s office really consisted of three rooms. The door from the hallway entered a large sitting room, which had two doors off of it. One door went to the Bursar’s sleeping quarters and the other to his office. Wicado was in a jubilant mode and after greeting Rejji sent him down to get a morning meal for both of them. Rejji got lost and a watcher stopped him. Rejji explained he was working for the Bursar, and after a lengthy grilling, the guard pointed him in the direction of the kitchen.
Over the morning meal, Wicado questioned Rejji about Fakara. He seemed particularly interested in Rejji’s time with the Zaldoni. As they finished eating, Rejji mentioned to the Bursar that he got lost on the way to the kitchen and the guard had showed him the way after he was convinced that Rejji wasn’t running around loose. Then conversation turned to Bakhai.
“This boy you had me buy yesterday,” Wicado asked, “can he really help the flock?”
“I really believe he can, Sir,” Rejji replied. “He has a way with animals that is unique. If anyone can help, it is Bakhai.”
“The fact that he noticed the ill health of the flock is a positive indication,” nodded Wicado. “We have never been able to develop a healthy flock. If it were not for Rymaka, the nephew of our Lord, I doubt we would even have clova on the estate. He was gored by a wasooki years ago and has no sense when it comes to plants. I think our Lord purchased the clova to keep him busy, but we have never been able to turn a profit on them.”
“I am sure Bakhai will help,” assured Rejji. “Your purchase will prove to be fruitful.”
“Well I have a council meeting to attend this morning, so we can not talk longer,” frowned Wicado. “Perhaps you can straighten up in here while I am gone.”
Wicado rose and gathered some papers. As he started to leave, he abruptly returned and put his papers on the desk. He opened a drawer and took out a small pin.
“Actually, the office really doesn’t require cleaning,” he stated as he stuck the small pin on Rejji’s tunic. “This pin identifies you as my personal slave. It allows you to move about the estate without too much questioning. Do not abuse it or I will be sorely disappointed about the punishment I will be required to administer.”
“Why do you give it to me?” Rejji asked.
“Because you have accepted your life here without the normal attitude of a new slave,” Wicado stated. “I believe you will adjust well and I have something I want you to do that requires it. Rymaka is a spoiled brat and if I get him upset while trying to turn a profit on the clova, I will lose favor with our Lord. I want you to go to the flock and see how Bakhai is making out. Impress upon the boy that he must cure the clova while making it seem like Rymaka has done it. If you can accomplish this, everybody will be happy.”
“I am sure this can be done,” smiled Rejji. “I will see to it immediately.”
Wicado nodded, picked up his papers and left the office. Rejji stared at the new pin on his tunic and headed out of the mansion. The guard outside the mansion immediately turned to Rejji as he exited the doorway and appeared as if he would say something, but his eyes saw the pin and he returned to standing guard. Rejji skipped down the steps and headed towards the flock they had passed on the way in yesterday.
When Rejji reached the flock, Bakhai was leaning over a clova that was bleeding. Rejji saw a burly man over by the fence beating a clova with a large stick. He assumed it was Rymaka.
“What are you doing?” greeted Rejji.
Bakhai looked up and frowned, “Rejji. He beats the animals for no reason. I am trying to mend this one. He does not understand them. They are just trying to look for a better pasture. They are all very sick.”
“Do you know what is causing the sickness?” Rejji asked.
“I am not sure,” sighed Bakhai. “They do not like the grass, but that is normal for all clova. They always want better grass. That is why they try to get through the fence. I think it may have to do with their water though. They refuse to drink from the trough because they fear Rymaka and he is usually around here. So they drink from a small pond at the edge of the pasture. I suspect that might be the problem, but I am not sure.”
“Can’t you ask the clova?” quizzed Rejji.
“I have already done that,” frowned Bakhai. “They do not know anything.”
“What are you doing here?” scowled Rymaka as he headed towards Rejji. “You don’t belong here.”
Rejji rose and met Rymaka as the large man stormed towards him. “My apologies,” bowed Rejji. “I am Rejji, slave to Wicado. He asked me to stop by and make sure your new slave was doing what he is supposed to.”
“And what is he supposed to be doing?” Rymaka bellowed. “I did not request a slave. Does Wicado think I can’t handle my duties?”
“Certainly not,” smiled Rejji. “The Bursar says you work very hard at maintaining the flock. It was his hope that Bakhai could fill in for you a bit so that you would have time to pursue other things that you might not have time for. I think he meant it as a reward for your conscientious labors.”
“Really?” asked Rymaka. “I thought Wicado thought poorly of me and was trying to replace me.”
“No,” Rejji shook his head. “He thinks having clova on the estate was a smart idea. He is sure they will turn a large profit in the future. You will have added greatly to the estate.”
“Well they were my idea,” beamed Rymaka, “but I really don’t need help.”
“I can see that you don’t need help with the flock,” replied Rejji, “but perhaps you have other ideas that might make the estate prosper. Tending to the clova all day will not allow you time to think of those ideas and develop them.”
“I hadn’t thought of that,” Rymaka stated. “I guess I probably do have more smart ideas, I can’t just sit around all day and think of them.”
“Why not?” Rejji asked. “Is that not what the people in the mansion do? Are not their ideas more important than any labor they can do? You have a slave now to do the labor. Just one more good idea would be much more important than controlling this flock.”
“You are right,” nodded Rymaka. “It is not worth my time to keep chasing these foul beasts away from the fence. Wicado is very wise. I think I have misjudged him.”
Rejji shook his head as the oversized shepard headed towards the mansion. He turned to Bakhai and squatted next to him.
“You have to solve this problem quickly,” urged Rejji. “If he ever finds out I was toying with him, I will be in trouble. You must make it appear that the large oaf has solved the problem, Bakhai. Can you do that?”
“I do not care anything for credit,” Bakhai declared. “I just want the clova healthy. He may claim it was him for all I care. How long will he be gone?”
“I am not sure,” frowned Rejji. “He does not appear to be too smart, but if he runs into Wicado there could be trouble. I would hurry. Once people start praising him for the healthy flock, he will not cause trouble for us.”