Questions

The sky opened up last night. The rain fell in wet, constant sheets for several ahn. I stood on the porch at dawn, when all had abated. The fields were intensely verdant, beautifully alive. I could hear Mina inside, singing as she bathed in the metal tub. The songs she knows all have to do with Ko-ro-ba, mostly having to do with the way the sun bathes her pastel cylinders at the start of each day. They call the place ‘The Towers of the Morning’ for a reason. Objectively, it is one of the finest things I have seen in all my travels, so I indulge a slave and let her sing of what was once home. Tasta is not much for the rain, so I imagine it was a restless night on the porch for the sleen. She only chuffed and then rolled over, slipping back into her slumber when I stepped out on the porch with her.

When Mina finished with her bath, she had work ahead of her. The same work she has had since the second day of En’Kara.
“Must I stomp the grapes, Master?” she asked. She wore her hair up in a kerchief. I allow her a rag to cover her hips, but only her collar past that.
“Do you question a command, slave girl?” I said.

“No, Master! Certainly not,” she said quickly. The sound of the grapes, squishing underfoot, was oddly pleasant. “I only meant, is there not a better way to extract the juice?”

I thought of stating the obvious, that getting Mina’s juices extracted was not a difficult process at all, but refrained and merely smiled. Judging by the way she blushed, and looked down, I noted that she sensed the double meaning of her words as swiftly as I did.
“There are presses, and other such machinery, yes,” I answered her. “...but the best wines are produced this way, with the fruit crushed by the foot of a woman before the fermentation process.“
“I am a woman,” she said. There was a hint of pride in her voice, as she took a turn at stating the obvious. However, she was not merely stating that she was of the female gender. She was admitting to the fact that she was a woman. Those that have had a slave, a true slave, one completely submitted and free of all pretense beneath them know the difference.
After staring directly at her bare breasts, I lifted the rag about her hips and feigned a cursory observation. “You seem to have the requisite parts,” I agreed.
“Yes, Master,” she answered.
“Do not take all morning,” I advised her. “When you have finished here, you have a full day ahead of you in the fields.”

I imagine the Lady Philomena, high born in the city of Ko-ro-ba, would choke at the notion of a man putting her to such menial work. Mina, a slave I acquired in the city of Port Kar, Jewel of Gleaming Thassa, however, seemed fittingly content. Delighted, at times.

Sentiment

The sun is rising in Ar just now, as it is rising here. The bars are ringing, and they will continue to ring for the better part of an ahn. People are crowding out onto the bridges and into the streets. People are wearing their finest clothing, and they will sing and dance, drink and feast the entire day.

I've painted my door green.

When she rises, I will set Mina to the task of burning the brak branches in a small tin. I let her sleep, finding myself unable to do so. She is a beautiful girl. A distraction at times, but a comfort at others.

Saw the world, turning in my sheets

And once again I cannot sleep

Walk out the door and up the street

Look at the stars beneath my feet

An auburn-haired girl used to paint the door of Samsara on the first of En'Kara each year. It had served as home and hostel for wandering souls, itinerant artisans, family, and friends for many years. A mere slave, a barbarian, she was the heart and soul of that home on Aulus Street. I won't hesitate to say that I miss her, and that I always will. As I rose to prominence in the theater, in business, and in politics, she waited patiently. Most nights, I did not make it back to Aulus Street. Some would say such sentiment for a girl is the mark of a fool. I have never denied it. I am a fool. Some days, like today, the first day of En'Kara, I allow myself to be a sentimental fool. She has been gone over a year, and I miss her.

Remember rights that I did wrong

So here I go.

Hello. Hello

There is no place I cannot go

My mind is muddy, but my heart is heavy

Does it show?

I lose the track that loses me

So here I go.

I do not know how long I will stay here, in the hills northeast of beautiful Venna. Vesutto has seen to the upkeep and maintenance of the home and modest vineyard over the last few years. I look forward to resuming our friendship, and sorting out business matters between us. For the duration of my stay, I think I will find pleasure in the brining of olives and the pressing of grapes. So starts another chapter in a life I am only beginning to learn to live.

And maybe someday we will meet, and maybe talk and not just speak

Don't buy the promises, 'cause there are no promises that I keep

And my reflection troubles me

So here I go.*

*Excerpts from 'Same Mistake,' by James Blunt

End of the Road

It is good to be home.

When the Argentum Road offered a choice, the Vosk or the Viktel Aria, the Merchant's Wagons headed south toward Ar. I parted ways with them, heading north.

"Master?" she said, struggling to keep up. She is a little pack animal, carrying my burdens on the road. Sometimes I forget that she was a free woman not so long ago, unaccustomed to being used thusly.

"What is it, Mina?" I asked.

"They travel south, toward Ar," she said. A statement, not a question.

"And how have you ascertained this?" I said curious-like, my eyes on the road ahead.

"A girl in one of the wagons said so," she answered. "A blonde one with blue eyes."

"The one with freckles across the top of her cheeks?" I asked.

She paused a moment. I suppose, in retrospect, were I attempting to be kind, I would not have identified the girl in question so quickly. However, the girl in question was made to dance between the campfires on more than one evening. Also, I do not always endeavor to be kind. And, in the interest of full disclosure, I had noticed Mina talking to the slut on several occasions over the last few hands on the road out of Argentum.

"Yes," she said, her tone a bit indignant. "That one."

I am not sure what the purpose of her question. or rather her statement, was. I suppose she wished for me to confirm that the wagons were heading into Ar and we, for some unfathomable reason, had decided to walk in the opposite direction.

It is good to be home.

I had not seen the villa in the hills northeast of Venna in some time. Mina may have been surprised by the way I abruptly unburdened her of my pack and threw her to her hands and knees in the rich, dark soil. There between the stakes bearing pendant bunches of succulent ta grapes ready to be plucked from the vine, I raped her. The sun was setting. I could see a panoramic silhouette of the distant, majestic Voltai on the horizon. Another journey had come to an end. I had a clear picture in my mind how lovely she would look in that position, the garment I allowed her to wear lifted to facilitate my use of her. As it turns out, I was correct. She was perfectly lovely, exposed so. And while she is not very good, as I have said, she is beautifully eager.

Sometime later, chained to the floor at the foot of my couch in the villa, she broke the silence.

"Master?" she whispered.

"What is it slave girl?" I asked. In the dark, I spoke to the ceiling.

"They will sell the blonde girl, the one with the freckles," she said. It was a question this time, much as she tried to phrase it otherwise.

"Yes," I confirmed. There was little doubt the dancer was bound for service in one of the better taverns, perhaps on Wagon Street.

"Thank you," she said quietly.

While her gratitude is fitting, I guessed at why she might be thankful. "You would not bring a very high price, Mina."

"Oh," she said. "Mina will endeavor to improve, Master."

I believed her. She was not only an eager slave bundle, but an earnest one.

"Then," I said to her, "you might be worth selling."

"Master?" she asked timidly. "Might a girl worth selling also be a girl worth keeping?"

I smiled in the dark, and then ended the conversation for the night. "Go to sleep, slave."

It is good to be home.

No, this is not the place of my birth. The Home Stone to which I am pledged is not housed here. Samsara, Aulus Street, the domicile in the Anbar are not located here. This hillside does not contain the Great Square, nor the Stadium of Tarns. This is neither the city of Marlenus, nor the Theater of Pentilicus Tallux. This is, however, for the time being, the end of my journey. I am not ready to return to Ar. Tomorrow begins the Waiting Hand. I will paint the door of my villa white, and nail to it the branches of the brak bush. I will reflect on my travels for the next hand, ruminate over the past, and consider what the future holds. I will welcome the first day of En'Kara from the porch of this villa on a hillside northeast of Venna. For now, Venna is home. It is good to be here.