The Forestwalker

• Chapter 1
• Chapter 2
• Chapter 3
• Chapter 4
• Chapter 5

• Chapter 6
• Chapter 7
• Chapter 8
• Chapter 9
• Chapter 10

• Chapter 11
• Chapter 12
• Chapter 13
• Chapter 14
• Chapter 15

• Chapter 16
• Chapter 17
• Chapter 18
• Chapter 19
• Chapter 20

• Epilogue

Chapter 2

Gareth opened his eyes to darkness, his heart racing, his breathing short and ragged with fear. What time was it? Suddenly more afraid that he'd screamed aloud in his sleep, he held his breath to try and stop his heart from trying to explode out of his chest as he listened hard for any noises coming from beyond the door to his room. But the house was silent except for the chime of a clock striking four. It was still early, he realized with a relieved sigh as his heartbeat returned to normal. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he stared up at the bare plaster ceiling a few feet above his head. He wished he could imagine it was a bright green canopy of waving leaves, but memories like that hurt too much, which is why they returned to him only in dreams... dreams that always ended in the same nightmare, the nightmare that refused to disappear even when he woke up. Though it was still two hours before he had to be up, he didn't feel like going back to sleep. He'd had enough dreams for one night.

He sat up slowly and rubbed his eyes, then wiped the sweat off his forehead. His room was a tiny little box at the back of the closet, which was muggy and sweltering even in the middle of the night, and it was barely the beginning of summer. Both his clothes and the thin straw pallet he slept on were soaked with sweat, and after the dream he'd just had, he could really use a breath of fresh air. Getting to his knees, he slid the door to his room open as slowly and silently as he could, then crawled out, stood up, and tiptoed softly out of the closet and across the bedroom to the door to the veranda. He didn't breathe easy until he was sitting out on the porch with the door closed again. The night air was hot, but not quite as stifling as it had been inside. As he looked out across the moonlit fields to the dark forest in the distance, an unusually strong wave of homesickness washed over him, fed in part by the dream he had just had. Burying his face in his hands, he wished desperately that he could erase all those painful memories from his mind. At the same time, though, he knew he couldn't. His past was as much a part of him as the iron slave collar and shackles that he now wore permanently welded around his wrists, ankles, and neck.

Part of him wished he had died that day when he was knocked out of the trees, but the grassland nomads that had spotted him had been well-prepared to capture forest-dwellers. Just before he had hit the ground, they had caught him and wrapped him up in a thick woven net. He had screamed and cried and shouted to be let go, he had struggled as much as he was able in his confining bonds, he had begged and pleaded with them, but it had all fallen on indifferent ears as one of the four tall, brown-skinned men hoisted the net Gareth was trapped in over one shoulder as if it were a sack full of food, said something to his fellows in a language Gareth couldn't understand, then began to walk away from the forest border out into the grassland.

When Gareth saw his home getting further and further away, when he remembered his mother's words about the nomads being cannibals and slavers, his mind went blank with panic and he began to scream and struggle as hard as he possibly could, trying desperately to get free of the net he was trapped in. His captor did not listen to Gareth's pleas, though, and he did his best to ignore his struggling prisoner until Gareth accidentally-on-purpose jerked his whole body downward so hard that the net almost slipped out of the slaver's hand. With a furious growl, the man dropped the net unceremoniously to the ground, turned around, and kicked Gareth squarely in the head.

When Gareth regained consciousness, his head was in so much pain that he couldn't think straight or remember what had happened. It wasn't until he tried to raise his hands up to clutch his aching head and found that he couldn't that it all came rushing back to him. He struggled weakly for a second, but doing so only made his head hurt worse and sapped the little strength he had, so he stopped. Reluctantly, he opened his eyes, and when he saw where he was, his heart sank into his stomach and he felt tears spring to his eyes. He was lying on the floor of a small cage made of thick iron bars. His hands were tied tightly behind his back with heavy rope, and the same rope also ran to his ankles, binding them together and to his wrists so that his legs were bent uncomfortably behind his back, completely immobilizing him. Any struggling or tugging on the ropes only tightened them painfully, and they were already beginning to chafe the skin of his wrists and ankles, so he tried to lay as still as possible as he took stock of his predicament.

Through the bars, he could see that his cage was sitting in the bed of a large wagon. And he was not the slavers' only captive. Next to his cage in the back of the wagon was another, larger cage that held three small children. The oldest was a girl only a little younger than Gareth, the second a boy a few years younger than her – only three or four – and the third was little more than a baby held in the girl's arms. The rest of the wagon was also full of captives: seven or so teenagers and adults sat huddled in front of the cages, wearing metal shackles on their wrists and ankles and leashed together by a long rope tied cruelly around their necks. None of them were forest-dwellers like Gareth was – none of them had the distinctive black hair and olive skin of the forest dwellers; they were all too light- or dark-skinned – and they had all been captives much longer than Gareth had, as evidenced by their hopeless faces, dead eyes, and meek docility in the face of their captors' cruelty. None of them looked at Gareth, or spoke to him, or tried to comfort him or the other children in any way, and the children didn't reach out to their elders, or even speak to one another. Even the baby hardly ever cried.

Watching the other captives, Gareth began to realize what had happened to him, and what his life was going to be like now as a captive and a future slave. The tears that had been threatening to fall since he'd opened his eyes did so now, but not for very long. He was eight years old now, almost an adult, and he had always been a sober and practical child. He wept for his family, who would never know what had happened to him, and he cursed himself for his carelessness in getting so lost in the first place, but as fear gave way to resignation, he gave his home and the life he had known up for lost. He closed his eyes and tried to rest as the pain in his head slowly faded, and when he was awakened by the wagon stopping at dusk and was finally released from his cage by his captors, he didn't bother to struggle or fight them.

As Gareth knelt on the ground behind the wagon while one of the slavers untied the rope from around his wrists and ankles, he glanced around at his surroundings. There was nothing but grassland to be seen in every direction; his forest home was nothing more than a long, dark shadow on the northern horizon. Even if he could escape from these men, he would never survive a solo journey across the grasslands long enough to reach that shadow. So when his captor dragged him to his feet, he didn't resist. He stood still as the man locked shackles around his wrists and ankles and, when the shackles didn't fit and the man spent ten minutes trying to find some that did before giving up and using leather thongs instead, he didn't even think of running. Of course, that was also because the man threatened him by shaking a small but deadly crossbow in his face and saying, “You run, we kill,” to him before leaving him standing by the wagon.

Once his wrists and ankles were hobbled by tightly-tied leather thongs and a third had been tied around his neck to serve as a collar and leash, the slaver picked him up bodily and shoved him back in his cage. Before he closed the door, he pushed a hard lump of bread and a cup of brownish water into the cage as well. Gareth looked up at the man gratefully, and earned a hard slap across the face for his trouble. “Eyes down!” the man shouted at him. “Never look at free men, slave!” His face burning with shame, Gareth dropped his eyes and cowered away from the man as he slammed the cage door shut. He couldn't help but glance over at the other cage, where the three other children were gnawing on their hunks of bread, and he thought he saw the little boy looking at him with sympathy, though the boy quickly turned his head away when he saw Gareth looking back at him.

The bread was stale and tasted like it was mostly made of sawdust, and the water was tepid and dirty, but Gareth had not eaten anything all day, so he choked it down and tried not to care about how it tasted. He supposed he would get used to it in time. Once he had finished his meager supper, he sat and watched as the older captives were forced to set up the slavers' camp and cook and clean for them. They still wore their shackles, but the rope that had leashed them all together had been removed so they could move around more freely. But the slavers made up for that small concession by treating their captives more cruelly than Gareth had ever seen anyone treat another human being. They were beaten severely for the smallest mistakes, or for stumbling over their shackles, or for not showing their captors due deference, or sometimes for no obvious reason at all. They were given bread and water to eat, but only after they had finished all their work, and if they had made too many mistakes they went to sleep hungry. Once they had all been fed – or not – they were roped together again and herded back into the wagon for the night, where they huddled and leaned against one another in silence as they slept, for there was not enough room for them all to lie down. They were woken up at dawn by the slavers and released again to cook and clean and pack up the camp, and their treatment was as brutal that morning as it had been the night before.

A few days later, when Gareth was released from his cage and forced to join them at their labors, he learned why the slavers treated their captives so harshly. “You learn well, we get good money. You not learn, you go to mines, you die,” one of the slavers told Gareth as he dragged him out of his cage and shoved him in the direction of their camp. The nomads got better prices for slaves who had already been trained and broken, Gareth realized, but they had neither the time nor the inclination to be anything but brutal in their instruction. Realizing this, Gareth resolved to do his work perfectly and never give them any reason to beat him. However, that was much easier said than done. He did his work diligently, kept his head down, never questioned anything, never spoke without permission, and worked as quickly and precisely as he was able, but he was small, the work was hard, and it was made even more difficult by the hobbling ropes on his wrists and ankles, which limited his speed and his freedom of movement. And so, despite his best intentions, he was beaten just as frequently and just as brutally as the other slaves. He was beaten for every mistake, for not moving fast enough if he tried to work cautiously in order to keep from making mistakes, and for every time he stumbled or dropped something because of his restraints. In the beginning, he could barely go ten minutes without being beaten, cuffed, or kicked when he was working, which meant that he was in constant pain and often hungry and was therefore unable to sleep or rest at all when he was put back in his cage. He did pass out from exhaustion every once in a while, though, which gave him the rest he needed to keep going, and, as time went on, he found himself adapting to the work and the pain. He learned how to work within his limitations and made fewer mistakes, and though he did as he was told and became a docile, obedient slave, he never really broke the way the others did. He accepted what had happened as his current fate and role in life, but he vowed not to let it become the whole of identity. He was still Gareth Elmwalker, a child of the forest, and that would never change, even if he never saw his home or his family again.

Even now, after almost five years as a slave, that had never changed, and though it wasn't the easiest thing to do – holding on to his identity despite everything that had happened – it did make his life bearable. And, on the whole, he knew things could have ended up a whole lot worse. Those fields out there beyond the house and garden were tended by slaves who worked every day in the hot sun under the whips of the overseers and who were housed in a barn like animals. And during the time Gareth had spent in the pens at the slave market, he had seen many slaves sold to the factories, the mines, and the brothels... including children as young or younger than he had been. As bad as the trip across the grasslands with the nomads had been, it was the memory of the slave market that still terrified him more than anything else.

The fear had started as soon as the slave caravan had reached the city. Gareth had learned about the cities of the industrial nation of Eshara in school, but, as with the grasslands, seeing it in person was unimaginably different from hearing about it because it was something completely out of the realm of his life's experience so far. The buildings were tall and built so close together that Gareth didn't know how anyone living in them had any privacy, the narrow streets were crammed with people all shouting and shoving, the air was hot and dirty and hard to breathe, and there was nothing familiar here to Gareth's eyes. Even the grassland, as alien as it was, had had grass and trees and growing things. Here, there was nothing but dirt and stone, none of it living. It was disgusting, and terrifying, and it made Gareth feel more lost and alone and more certain that he would never see his home again.

And then he had been sold to the slave market. He had watched as the nomad slavers had haggled with a fat, pale-skinned man in a striped suit for each one of the older captives they had brought over the grasslands, and though Gareth had never known their names and none of them had ever spoken to him, he felt a strange sense of loss as he watched them being led away into a large dark building. Once they were all gone, he watched with a growing sense of shame and worthlessness as the men began to haggle over him and the other children. He couldn't understand what they were saying, but the looks they were giving him told him exactly how much he was worth in their eyes, and he suddenly knew that he would be spending the rest of his life as nothing more than a piece of property. He almost broke right then and there; he closed his eyes and clutched tightly at his arms, tracing the embroidered vines and leaves that still adorned the ragged remains of his clothing. His mother had made these for him, because she loved him. Somewhere out there, distantly far away but still in the world, he had a family that loved him. No matter what anyone else thought of him or how anyone else saw him, he had to remember that. It was the only thing that would stop him from dying inside like all the others.

Remembering became a little bit harder once he and the others were taken out of their cages and dragged into the dark building, though. The baby was taken away to “grow a little,” which devastated the other two children. Gareth had suspected that they were all siblings, and their reaction – the first real emotions he had ever seen any of them express – confirmed it. Gareth's heart went out to them as they clutched at each other, but then the girl was dragged away too, and he and the little boy were taken into a small room where a new group of slavers stripped them of their old clothes, sprayed them down with freezing cold water, shaved off all their hair, then dressed them in shirts and pants of ragged brown burlap, put iron shackles on their wrists and ankles, and threw them into a large cage with half a dozen other boys around their ages that were dressed and chained up just like them. Gareth got a few odd looks – he guessed it was because of the odd color of his skin – but no one came forward to comfort or befriend him or the other boy, so Gareth retreated to a far corner of the barred room, curled up on the dirty, straw-covered floor, and ignored the rest of his fellow captives as he opened his hand and looked at the one piece of his home and his past he had been able to hold on to. Those beautiful birthday clothes his mother had made for him were gone now, their ragged remains incinerated, but he had managed to rip one corner of the shirt collar off as they were taking it off him. It wasn't much, just a small, smudged piece of cream-colored linen adorned with a green elm leaf the same color as his eyes, but it was enough. That first night there, he couldn't help but cry – though he did it so the others wouldn't see – and he couldn't help but dream of home.

One day blurred into another after that. Every day, men came by to stare into their cage, or those around them, and sometimes they would take one of the boys away. Once a week, those who remained were paraded out in front of a large crowd of people who came up and inspected them and haggled over them and sometimes bought them, but no one ever took Gareth. As the days went by and no one took an interest in him, he began to be more and more afraid for his future. He heard the others – boys in his cage and older boys in the cages around him – whispering about what happened to the ones who never got chosen, how they were sold to the mines, where they were thrown down into the dark under the earth and forced to dig out coal or iron or precious metals until they died, most never surviving more than a year. Thinking of that happening to him made Gareth afraid to fall asleep at night, afraid of the nightmares that came in the dark, afraid of what the next day would bring, afraid of his future here in this foreign land.

And then, one day, he found himself alone in the cage. All the other boys around his age had been sold, no more had come in for days, and he heard rumors that the next day he was going to be sent to the mines. No one wanted him; he was too small, too frail-looking, too foreign, good for nothing but dying in the dark. And then, he glanced up to see the head of the slave market standing in front of his cage, accompanied by a tall, thin, pale-skinned, dark-haired man.

“This is the only one we have right now in the age range you're looking for, sir,” the slaver was saying. “It's a bit undersized, and it's foreign, but the caravan that brought it in says it's a hard worker and quite obedient. If you're looking for something of better quality, I understand, but I can give you quite a discount on this one, and I'm sure it can be trained to suit your needs quite quickly.”

“Does it understand Esharan?” the prospective buyer asked.

“Oh, yes, sir, absolutely. I wouldn't have shown it to you otherwise,” the slaver said quickly. Then he banged on the bars of the cage and said, “On your feet, slave!”

Gareth got to his feet, trying not to squirm as he felt the other man's eyes studying him, taking in every detail of this small, pitiful, barely-human child that was cringing subserviently in front of him. Gareth couldn't help but silently beg with ever atom of his being for this man to buy him and take him away from here. Anything had to be better than the mines, of that he was certain. He stood there with his hands clasped in front of him and his head bowed as the silence stretched out tensely for an eternity, but the words finally came. “I'll take it.”

Gareth tried not to sag with relief as the slaver said, “Excellent, excellent. If you'll come with me, Mister Crane, we will take care of payment in our accounting office, and your new slave will be processed and delivered to you once our transaction is complete.” The slaver and Gareth's new master moved off, and a few minutes later another slaver came and removed Gareth from his cage. Gareth was taken back to the room through which he had been processed when he was first brought to the slave market. His shackles were removed, he was given another cold shower, his hair was shaved off again, leaving only short, black stubble covering his head, and he was dressed in a clean slave uniform of brown burlap, then he was taken into another room and told to lie down on a large table in its center. As soon as he did so, he was tied down and a man in a blacksmith's apron came over and wrapped his wrists, ankles, and neck with thick strips of leather before bending searing hot iron bands around them that were welded shut. As soon as the iron bands cooled, the leather was removed from underneath them, iron rings were welded to the bands on his wrists and ankles and to the collar just under his chin, then his wrists and ankles were shackled with chains and a chain leash was locked to the collar around his neck. This was really the end of his old life now, Gareth realized as he followed the slaver out of the room, his cheeks flush with embarrassment at being led along on a leash like an animal. Everything about him now – his clothes, his haircut, his new irons – marked him as a slave. And though hair could grow and clothes could be changed, his collar and shackles could never be removed. Though he was relieved not to have been sold to the mines, he still wept bitterly at realizing once again that his freedom had been completely stripped from him, and that he would be at the mercy of foreigners who saw him as barely human for the rest of his life.

He had gotten his emotions under control by the time the slaver handed his leash over to his new master, but he could not hide the fact that he had been crying and he did not try to hide the fact that he was afraid. He still did not know why he had been bought by this man. He followed his new master meekly as he was led out of the high-walled compound that held the slave market and up the street to where a handsome carriage was waiting. A tall slave with very dark skin and dark hair, dressed in a slave's uniform of grey cloth rather than brown burlap, was standing beside the door to the carriage; he bowed and opened it when his master approached, then closed it again once Gareth and the man were inside. The man indicated that Gareth should sit down on the floor at his feet once he was seated inside the carriage, and he locked Gareth's leash to a ring on the wall as Gareth sat down obediently. Once the carriage was moving, his new master finally spoke to him.

“Do you understand my speech, boy?” he asked.

Keeping his eyes downcast, Gareth nodded. He had been as surprised as the slavers had been that he understood Esharan speech, though their accent sometimes made it difficult.

“Good. Those slavers are notorious for lying about details like that. Now, do you have a name? It's alright, I give you permission to speak.”

Gareth swallowed hard, then nodded and said, “Gareth, sir,” in a very soft voice. This was the first time since his capture that anyone had allowed him to speak, much less asked him his name.

“Well, Gareth, my name is Teskar Crane, and I am your master now. Do you understand what that means?”

Gareth nodded slowly.

“Good, good. I have a son named Kastor who is just about to turn eight years old, and I have bought you to be his body-servant, companion, and personal slave. I promise you that the work will not be hard, and you will be well-treated as long as you do what you're told and don't cause any trouble. You don't have to be afraid any more, alright?” His tone of voice was so gentle and fatherly that Gareth had nodded with relief as the fear that had paralyzed him melted away. He had been saved by this man, and he would never forget his new master's kindness.

It turned out that Teskar Crane was a prosperous farmer and the head of an agricultural company, and that he lived in Shasta, the country just south of Eshara. While Eshara's economy was based on industry, Shasta's was based on agriculture, and it was a relief to Gareth to learn that his new home would be on a farm instead of in a city. It would still be nothing like living in the forest, but at least he would be surrounded by nature and green growing things rather than the large buildings and stone and dirt that cities were made of. It took them several weeks to get to the Crane's farm, but Gareth was well-treated by his master during their trip. Teskar and his dark-skinned body-servant, whose name was Marten, took the opportunity to teach Gareth everything he would need to know to be a good slave to young Kastor Crane. He would be expected to help his young master bathe and dress, and he would keep his master's quarters clean, and serve him his meals, and do anything else that was asked of him. Master Teskar had been right; the work would not be difficult, especially after everything Gareth had been through during his time with the nomads, and if Master Teskar's son was anything like him, Gareth expected that he would be well-treated and may over time become Kastor's close companion and confidant, the way Marten was to Master Teskar.

It was therefore with only a little apprehension that Gareth disembarked from the carriage in front of his new home several weeks after leaving the slave market. He stood on the gravel drive leading up to the front door of the house and looked around curiously as Master Teskar removed the chain leash from his collar and the chain from between the shackles on his wrists. “If you prove yourself trustworthy, you will be allowed to go unfettered eventually,” his master explained, “but that will remain for now.” He indicated the chain between Gareth's ankle shackles. Gareth nodded his understanding, then followed Master Teskar to the house while Marten drove the carriage away to one of the large outbuildings further up the road.

Gareth stared up at the house in front of him as he approached it. He had never seen a home for a single family of people this big. It sprawled outward and upward, wrapped around on the ground level by a large porch, and sporting balconies off of numerous doors on the upper levels as well. The entire building was painted bright white, and had clear glass in the windows and doors, and it was even more decorated on the inside than it was on the outside. Gareth gaped as he followed his master through the large front doors into the main hall, which had a tall ceiling and a large staircase in the middle of it and was full of pedestals and pots holding bright bouquets of flowers or green leafy plants. He saw Master Teskar smiling at him out of the corner of his eye as he stared, open-mouthed, at everything around him. He blushed fiercely as he dropped his eyes and closed his mouth, hoping he wasn't about to get punished for staring. But all Teskar did was laugh and pat him gently on the head. “It's alright, boy. This place can be overwhelming, I know. Sometimes, even I forget how big it is.”

“Teskar? Darling, is that you?” A soft, musical voice came from a hallway to the left of the staircase, and a moment later a woman came into the room. More accurately, she was pushed in by another woman in a white dress and hat. She was sitting in a large chair that had wheels instead of legs, and she was holding a small bundle in her arms that Gareth recognized as a baby. “Oh, Teskar, I'm glad you're finally home,” she said breathlessly as Teskar crossed the room to greet and embrace her gently. Gareth risked a quick glance at his new mistress, for she was obviously Master Teskar's wife, and what he saw made him very sad indeed. She was a pretty young woman, probably around the same age as his own mother, with pale skin and wavy blonde hair and bright blue eyes, but she was obviously in very poor health. Her face was thin, her cheeks hollow, there were dark circles under her eyes, and she moved and spoke like a frail old woman instead of a young healthy one. But she greeted her husband as enthusiastically as she was able, and when she noticed Gareth, she asked, “Is this the present you promised Kastor? He's positively adorable!” which made Gareth blush as he bowed to her.

“Gareth, this is my wife, Laresa, and my baby daughter, Shanna,” Teskar explained as he took the baby from his wife and began to rock her and wiggle his fingers at her. A tiny hand emerged from the blankets as the baby grabbed for one of her father's fingers with a happy gurgle. That made Gareth smile, even though seeing this happy family together made his heart ache. This was not his family, and this was not his home. No matter how badly he might want it, he would never have a place here as anything more than property.

Just then, the sound of pounding feet caused everyone but Gareth to turn towards the staircase. Gareth watched out of the corner of his eye as a tall boy around his age came racing down the stairs. Kastor looked very much like his father, except he had his mother's blonde hair and blue eyes. He, unlike the others, did not seem happy to see Teskar. “Is it here? Did you get it for me?” he demanded as he jumped down the last three stairs and ran up to his father. Then, he turned to Gareth. “Is that it?” he asked, sounding disappointed. “It doesn't look like anything special.”

“Happy birthday, son. It's good to see you too,” Master Teskar said wearily. “Yes, this is your new slave.”

“Kastor, dear, be polite and say hello to your father before you start demanding your presents,” his mother said softly. Kastor scowled dangerously at Gareth, as if being lectured by his parents was Gareth's fault, then he turned with bad grace and went to say hello to his father. As Gareth stood there, being invisible, Master Teskar explained to his son what was expected of him now that he had a slave of his very own, but he got the impression that Kastor was barely listening. Once the lecture was over, Kastor thanked his father and his mother, then turned and addressed Gareth for the first time. “Follow me, slave,” he commanded imperiously, and Gareth obediently followed his new master up the stairs and into a very different life than any he had known before.

Unfortunately, over the last five years, nothing had really turned out the way Master Teskar had promised, though that was not his fault. Gareth realized very early on that he had been bought for Master Kastor as much as a substitute for his parents' attentions as for anything else. Mistress Laresa was quite ill and spent most of her time in the hospital, and when she was home she was usually too tired or paying too much attention to the baby to keep up with an eight-year-old boy. And Master Teskar, as the head of a new and growing company, traveled long distances very frequently and was almost never home, and when he was home he spent most of his time in his office taking care of paperwork. Master Kastor was schooled at home by a private tutor, and Gareth was the only other person, slave or freeman, that he came in contact with on a regular basis that was of an age with him. Under most circumstances, this would have led to him and Kastor becoming friends – two lonely boys in desperate need of companionship. Unfortunately, Kastor had already decided both how he felt about his parents' neglect of him and how he felt about having a slave, and nothing Gareth or anyone else did was able to change that.

“Slave? Where are you? Come here this instant!”

Gareth's head shot up at the sound of his young master's voice, and he was on his feet in the next instant and back through the door to the veranda as fast as the hobbling chain between the shackles on his ankles would allow him to move. He knew he was in trouble even before he saw Master Kastor sitting up in bed with a furious scowl on his face. He had missed the sound of the clock chiming six while he had been reminiscing about the past, and now he had been caught somewhere he was not supposed to be, sitting idle instead of standing attentive and waiting for his master to wake up. Kastor's dagger-like gaze followed him in silence as he crossed the room and took his place next to the bed, his head bowed, his hands clasped behind his back. Then, Kastor yawned lazily and stretched. “My robe,” he said imperiously as he sat up the rest of the way. Gareth retrieved the robe from the back of the chair next to the bed and helped Kastor put it on as he got out of bed. Then, he returned to his subservient stance as Kastor wandered aimlessly across the room to the veranda door, opened it, and looked out.

“Slave, who gave you permission to leave your room while I was sleeping?”

Gareth swallowed hard and braced himself. Kastor had asked him a question, but he had not given Gareth permission to speak, so Gareth just kept his eyes on the floor. Kastor's question didn't need an answer anyway. Gareth knew he had done something wrong, and so did Kastor.

Kastor crossed the room in two strides and slapped Gareth hard across the face. “That's what I thought,” he said smugly. Gareth didn't make a sound; he had been well-trained, and he had endured a lot worse in the last five years. “Father is going to hear about this when he gets home today, and I'm going to tell him to put you on a leash again, since you obviously can't be trusted.”

Gareth wished he could say he was surprised, but he wasn't... just angry at the arbitrary unfairness of Kastor's punishment. Despite Master Teskar's promise that he would be allowed to go about unfettered once he proved himself trustworthy, the chain hobbling Gareth's ankles had never been removed, because Kastor wouldn't allow it. And Kastor's favorite way of punishing Gareth – besides beating him or watching him being beaten – was to get his father to put a chain leash on Gareth's collar so that he could lock Gareth up and control him and treat him even more like a dumb animal than usual. This was typical; Kastor found a reason to punish Gareth like this at least once every other month or so.

Threat of punishment hanging over his head did not mean that Gareth could shirk his duty, though, no matter how furious he was. He preceded Kastor into his private bathroom and filled the tub with hot, soapy water, then helped Kastor undress and get into the bath. While Kastor was bathing, Gareth went back out to the bedroom to make Kastor's bed, put his nightclothes in the laundry chute in the closet, and pick out clothes for him to wear that day. Once Kastor was done with his bath, Gareth helped him dress, then Kastor briefly removed Gareth's hobble chain so that he could undress and bathe quickly in the dirty, tepid bathwater while Kastor combed his hair and cleaned his teeth. Once Gareth was clean and dressed again, he followed his young master out of the bedroom and downstairs to the dining room. He served Kastor his breakfast, then knelt quietly by Kastor's chair while he ate.

Kastor's little sister Shanna, now five years old, was eating breakfast at the table this morning as well, and she smiled and waved at Gareth when she saw him. Gareth adored Shanna; he had watched with endless amazement over the last five years as she had grown from a tiny, helpless baby to a smart, happy, friendly little girl. He, unfortunately, did not get to spend as much time with her as he would have liked, but she had always been sweet to him. Not unexpectedly, Kastor was almost as cruel to his little sister as he was to Gareth, though in very different ways. Gareth knew Shanna was just as lonely a child as her brother – possibly more so, since she didn't even have a slave her own age to keep her company – but she compensated for it by being everybody's friend, and Kastor was the only member of the household that didn't adore her and dote on her every chance they got. This infuriated Kastor, especially when Shanna gave his slave more affection than him. When he saw Shanna waving at Gareth, he kicked Gareth under the table, then refused to let Gareth have his leftovers, which meant that Gareth went hungry that morning. He also made sure Shanna saw him do all this, which made her cry, giving Gareth one more injustice to add to the day's list as he followed Kastor up to his classroom for the start of his lessons.

Kastor's daily lessons with his tutor were both the best and the worst part of Gareth's day. They were the best because no one knew – because no one had ever asked – that Gareth could read and write and understand his master's lessons. They had all assumed that slaves were stupid and illiterate, and thus thought nothing of letting Gareth sit in on Kastor's lessons every day. As a result, Gareth had kept up quite well with his studies, and had learned a lot that he never would have learned while living in the forest. He tried not to think too hard about the fact that all of the knowledge he was accumulating would not do him any good since he was nothing but a slave, because sitting at Kastor's feet and listening to the tutor lecture was the only pleasure he was allowed. And he held onto that pleasure with a death grip, because otherwise Kastor's daily lessons would have made his life truly unbearable.

There was one part of Gareth's duties as a slave that Master Teskar had not told him about when he'd first arrived, probably because Teskar – as any father would – tried to think the best of his son and didn't think it would ever really affect his son's new slave. That duty, unfortunately, was as Kastor's whipping boy. Every time Kastor broke a rule, or got an answer wrong, or talked back to his teacher, or bullied his sister, or shirked his schoolwork, it was Gareth who was punished. Gareth did not understand the logic behind this. He could see, in the abstract, how such a punishment style would work for a kind-hearted child like Shanna, who couldn't bear to see anyone suffer, especially as a result of something she had done, but Kastor practically reveled in watching Gareth being punished, so Gareth being beaten for his master's transgressions actually encouraged Kastor to misbehave. Gareth's sole reprieve was the fact that Kastor also got lectured for actively misbehaving – when he acted out, or tormented Shanna, or got bad marks – which was something he tried to avoid, but there was one thing he could do that would get Gareth in trouble but not him, and that was answering questions wrong in class. Kastor was quite bright, and he always got good marks on his homework and exams, so if he got a few questions wrong in class and his slave had to be punished for it, no one really thought about it twice. In fact, his tutor held it up as an example of how such a punishment worked to better Kastor's grades, because he never got the same question wrong twice. Gareth, of course, knew the truth – after five years, he could spot the gleam in Kastor's eyes every time he got a question wrong on purpose – but he could not tell anyone, so he suffered his daily beatings at the hands of Kastor's tutor in silence.

Today's punishment was particularly brutal – thirty lashes with the switch – and Gareth suspected that Kastor hadn't done it just for fun, but to further remind Gareth of his disobedience this morning. As he served Kastor his supper, Gareth tried to ignore both the growling of his own stomach and the pain that stung his back and shoulders every time his rough burlap shirt brushed the bloody welts covering his back. He didn't want to let his discomfort show because Master Teskar was finally home and looking very tired. The last thing his master needed was to have his worries added to over something as trivial as how his son was treating a slave. Gareth had heard the rumors that the other household slaves and servants whispered among themselves: that two years of unseasonable heat and drought had taken quite a toll on Master Teskar's business, and that his wife, who had been in poor but stable health for many years now, had recently taken a turn for the worse. Tensions were high and everyone walked on eggshells out of respect for their master, who was a kind man that had always treated them well, but Kastor was too self-centered to notice anything that was going on around him, and as a result could care less about adding to his father's problems. About halfway through dinner, he kicked Gareth hard under the table then said, “Father, I need you to put a leash on my slave again.”

“What did he do this time, son?” Master Teskar asked, sounding as preoccupied and weary as he looked.

“He left my room without permission this morning. He was sitting on my balcony when I woke up, probably contemplating thoughts of escape.”

Gareth silently sighed at this accusation. That wasn't true, and Kastor knew it. Gareth had never been anything but obedient to his master, and though he had often spent his rare moments of leisure gazing out at that pitiful imitation of a forest that stood on the border of the Crane's plantation, daydreaming about his former home, he had no illusions about the fact that the past was past and that he would never see his own forest again. He was loyal to Master Teskar and his family, and he hoped that his master remembered that, even if his son had never recognized it. He could feel Teskar's eyes on him, silently discerning the truth of his son's accusation in Gareth's body language, and under any other circumstances Gareth would have protested and tried to explain, or at least indicated that there was an explanation that he would be willing to share with Master Teskar out of Kastor's earshot. But he had to live with Kastor every day, and avoiding one unjust punishment would only bring more down on his head, so he simply bowed his head and confirmed Kastor's accusations.

He heard Master Teskar sigh. “Alright. I'll deal with him in my office. Go on, boy. Now.”

Gareth got to his feet, bowed to his master, then shuffled off out of the dining room and down the back hallway to Teskar's office. This meant no supper tonight either, he realized as his stomach tightened painfully. It had been a long time since he had been this hungry; usually when Kastor refused him food he was always able to slip off and get something from the kitchens – the cook was especially fond of him – but he hadn't wanted to risk Kastor's wrath again today. He hoped Master Teskar would be understanding, but he wasn't going to burden his master with his problems today, not when he obviously had so much weighing on his mind.

Gareth curled his toes in the soft weave of the rug as he stood in front of the large wooden desk in the center of his master's office and stared around at its numerous adornments, all of which still seemed strange and extravagant to him even after five years of living in this house. He never ceased to be amazed by how different this world was from the one he'd grown up in. Everything here was made, and so little of it was done with any thought for what they were taking from the world in order to make all these fancy trappings. They called it 'civilization;' Gareth had never really understood why, because he saw nothing civil about taking what you wanted from the world and never giving anything back. These foreigners could learn a lot from his people, he thought, and yet they called the forest-dwellers 'savages' and saw even those who weren't slaves as barely human. These 'civilized' people knew nothing about the forest-dwellers, and they didn't seem to want to know. Everything Kastor was being taught about the northern forest was wrong, Gareth knew that much, and he'd had to bite his tongue to keep from correcting the tutor whenever Kastor's geography or history lessons covered anything about the forests. It had been almost comforting, though, knowing that they knew as little about his world as he had known about theirs. It made him feel a tiny bit like he belonged here; connection through mutual ignorance.

He dropped his eyes to the floor and tried not to flinch when he heard the door behind him open and close. Master Teskar's footsteps as he crossed the room were heavy, as if he were carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. He'd been gone for almost three months, and he seemed to have more lines on his face and streaks of grey in his hair than when Gareth had last seen him. He slumped into the armchair behind his desk with a sigh and asked, “Is what Kastor said true? Were you out on his balcony this morning without permission?”

Reluctantly, Gareth nodded; not because he didn't want to tell the truth, but because he knew this was causing his master unnecessary trouble.

“I know I am not around much, but I hear rumors just like everyone else,” Teskar said softly, “and I believe I owe you an apology, Gareth. My son has not been treating you as well as I would have liked, and I have not been here to instruct and discipline him. For that, I am sorry.”

It took all of Gareth's self control not to look up at his master in shock upon hearing this. The cynical corner of his mind said such an apology was too little, too late, that Kastor's attitude was beyond fixing, but he pushed those thoughts away and contented himself with being grateful for Teskar's concern.

“I am afraid that I have let my responsibilities as a father fall by the wayside,” Teskar continued, speaking mostly to himself. “It's just... the company's having financial problems, crops are failing everywhere, and now Laresa's taken a turn for the worse... But I made her a promise. Family is more important than the company now, and I will be a better father and take Kastor in hand...”

So the rumors were all true. The thought of losing his mistress made Gareth's heart ache for his master and the children. He had rarely seen her since the first day he arrived here, but he would never forget how she had smiled so sweetly at him and called him 'adorable.' But the confirmation of the other rumor – that his master's business was failing – worried him just as much, because it was more likely to affect him directly. If Master Teskar lost his business, he would be forced to sell this house and farm in order to ensure his family's survival – people here didn't support their neighbors through hard times the way they did in the small forest communities – and that would mean selling the slaves too. As difficult as his life may be here, Gareth really didn't want to take his chances at the slave markets again. Memories of his time there still gave him nightmares.

“I appreciate your loyalty, Gareth,” Master Teskar said, glancing up from studying his hands and looking at Gareth with a sad smile. “I know things have not been as easy for you as I promised you they would be, but they will get better soon, I promise. And I know that you were not thinking of escaping, and that you did not mean to willfully disobey Kastor... In this heat, even I have trouble sleeping.” That made Gareth smile slightly as he nodded to indicate that his master had correctly guessed his motivation for being on Kastor's balcony that morning. “Unfortunately, though...” He sighed again, and Gareth's heart sank just a little as Teskar opened one of the drawers in his desk and pulled out a long chain with locking bolts on either end. “I still must punish you as my son asked me to, in the interests of keeping the peace ahead of taking the children to see their mother tomorrow and giving them the bad news about her failing health. You can understand that, can't you?”

Gareth nodded. It wasn't like he expected things to be fair; it was enough that his master had promised him that things would change, and he trusted Master Teskar to keep his word.

“Good boy,” Teskar said as he stood up and came around the desk. He patted Gareth fondly on the head before locking the chain leash to the ring on the front of Gareth's collar with obvious reluctance. Then, he looked over Gareth's head and said, “Marten, please take Gareth to the kitchen and make sure he gets dinner before you return him to my son.” Gareth hadn't realized that Marten was there, though it didn't surprise him. Marten was Master Teskar's shadow; Gareth saw his own future with Kastor in the way that Marten related to Teskar, though he doubted that he'd ever hear Kastor give him an order that sounded like a request, the way Teskar had just done of Marten. Hope for a better future with his young master was not lost, though, Gareth reminded himself as he followed Marten off to the kitchens. He would just have to be patient a little while longer, and hopefully things would start getting a little better for him soon.

At the moment, though, he was just grateful to be fed. The cook knew that he hadn't gotten breakfast, and since she hadn't seen him come in for food any time during the day, she knew that he had to be quite hungry so she gave him an extra-full plate of the leftovers from supper and a glass of fresh milk instead of water. He thanked her profusely, which she waved away with a blushing smile and a comment about how he was a growing boy who needed his nourishment. Gareth was ravenous, but he remembered his manners and didn't devour the food like a starving person. In fact, he took his time, because it gave him a chance to listen to Marten and the cook, who was named Celise and was a servant, not a slave, gossip about the day-to-day matters that concerned the household – though, to be fair, Celise did most of the gossiping, while Marten just stood there listening and saying things like “Yes, miss,” or “No, miss,” or “As you say, miss,” in his rich, deep voice. Gareth actually got so wrapped up in listening to what they were saying that he forgot to let them know he had finished his meal. And it wasn't just because their discussion was a good source of information – he knew the truth behind all the rumors now, after all – but because it was a relief not to be the center of attention for a little while. He knew as soon as he was returned to his master's room that he would be the center of Kastor's attention... and not in a good way. But he couldn't stay unnoticed forever, and eventually he was reluctantly following Marten up the back stairs and down the hallway to Kastor's bedroom.

Kastor was not in his room when Gareth returned, so Marten left him sitting on the floor at the foot of his young master's bed with his leash locked around one of its tall posts. Gareth tried not to get too comfortable; he suspected that Kastor would not be happy to see that his slave had been fed and hadn't been beaten, even though he was wearing a leash now. And he was right; when Kastor returned to his room half an hour later, he was definitely unhappy about his father's leniency towards Gareth.

“On your feet, slave!” he shouted when he saw Gareth. Gareth stood up quickly, just in time to be slapped hard across the face. “Don't think this is over just because Father decided to go easy on you,” Kastor snarled. “Now, I want to get ready for bed.”

His cheek stinging, Gareth turned towards the dresser across from the bed. Fortunately, his leash was long enough to reach it, because Kastor did not seem at all interested in removing his leash from the bedpost. Gareth helped his young master undress and change into his nightclothes, then Kastor left him standing by the bed while he went into the bathroom to wash his face and clean his teeth before he went to sleep. When he returned, he looked Gareth up and down with a cruel glint in his eye, then said, “On your knees, slave.” Gareth went to his knees beside the bed. “Let's see how well you obey me now. You are not to move from that position or that spot all night. If I don't wake in the morning to find you exactly as you are now, wearing a leash will be the least of your problems.” He snickered at that and kicked Gareth hard in the leg before climbing into bed and turning out the lights.

Gareth didn't move a muscle until deep, steady breathing from the bed told him Kastor was asleep. Then, he slumped down to sit on his knees and cast a longing glance towards the closet and his tiny room at the back of it. As unbearably hot as it was back there, a little sleep would have been better than nothing. At least there was a trip planned for tomorrow, which would be a welcome reprieve from the cruelties Kastor could only get away with when no one was watching. With a sigh, Gareth closed his eyes and tried to relax. It was going to be a very long night.