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.Damen regarded Erasmus thoughtfully, wondering how much to say.‘I was not a slave in Akielos.I was sent here by Kastor, as punishment,’ he said, eventually.There was no point lying about that part of it.‘Punishment,’ said Erasmus.His gaze dropped to the ground.His whole manner changed.Damen said, ‘But you were trained in the palace? How long were you there?’ He couldn’t account for the fact that he had not seen this slave before.Erasmus attempted a smile, rallying himself from whatever had disheartened him.‘Yes.I—But I never saw the main palace, I was in training silks until I was chosen by the Keeper to come here.And my training in Akielos was very strict.It was thought.that is.’‘That is?’ said Damen.Erasmus blushed and said in a very soft voice: ‘In case he found me pleasing, I was being trained for the Prince.’‘Were you?’ said Damen, with some interest.‘Because of my colouring.You can’t see it in this light, but in daylight, my hair is almost blond.’‘I can see it in this light,’ said Damen.He could hear the approval saturating his own voice.He felt it shift the dynamic between them.He might as well have said, Good boy.Erasmus reacted to the words like a flower inclining towards sunlight.It didn’t matter that he and Damen were technically the same rank, Erasmus was trained to respond to strength, to yearn for it and submit to it.His limbs subtly rearranged themselves, a flush spreading on his cheeks, his eyes dropping to the ground.His body became a supplication.The breeze toyed irresistibly with a curl that had tumbled over his forehead.In the softest little voice he said, ‘This slave is beneath your attention.’In Akielos, submission was an art, and the slave was the artisan.Now that he was showing his form, you could see that Erasmus was surely the prize pick of the Regent’s gift-slaves.Ridiculous, that he was being dragged around by the neck like an unwilling animal.It was like possessing a finely tuned instrument and using it to smash shells open.Misusing it.He should be in Akielos, where his training would be fêted and prized.But it occurred to Damen that Erasmus might have been lucky in being chosen for the Regent, lucky in never having come to the attention of Prince Damianos.Damen had seen what had happened to the closest of his personal slaves.They had been killed.He pushed the memory forcibly out of his mind and returned his attention to the slave in front of him.Damen said, ‘And is your own master kind?’‘This slave lives to serve,’ said Erasmus.It was a formulaic set-phrase, and meant nothing.The behaviour of slaves was tightly proscribed, with the result that what was unsaid was often more important than what was said.Damen was already frowning a little when he chanced to look down.The tunic Erasmus wore had been slightly disordered when he used it to wipe Damen’s cheek, and he’d had no chance to right it.The hem had lifted high enough to expose the top of his thigh.Erasmus, seeing the direction of Damen’s gaze, quickly pulled the cloth down to cover himself, stretching it as far as it would go.‘What happened to your leg?’ said Damen.Erasmus had gone ivory white.He didn’t want to answer, but would force himself to because he’d been asked a direct question.‘What’s wrong?’Erasmus’s voice was barely audible, his hands clutching the hem of his tunic.‘I am ashamed.’‘Show me,’ said Damen.Erasmus’s fingers loosened, trembling, and then slowly lifted the fabric.Damen looked at what had been done.At what, three times, had been done.‘The Regent did this? Speak freely.’‘No.On the day we arrived, there was a test of obedience.I f-failed.’‘This was your punishment for failure?’‘This was the test.I was ordered not to make any sound.’Damen had seen Veretian arrogance, and Veretian cruelty.He had suffered Veretian insults, had endured the sting of the lash and the violence of the ring.But he had not known anger until now.‘You didn’t fail,’ said Damen.‘That you tried at all proves your courage.What was asked of you was impossible.There’s no shame in what happened to you.’Except for the people who had done this.There was shame and disgrace on every one of them, and Damen would hold them to account for what they had done.Damen said, ‘Tell me everything that has happened to you since you left Akielos.’Erasmus spoke matter-of-factly.The story was disturbing.The slaves had been transported aboard the ship in cages, below deck.Handlers and sailors alike had taken liberties.One of the women, worried about the lack of access to any usual means of preventing pregnancy, had tried to communicate the problem to her Veretian handlers, not realising that to them illegitimate birth was a horror.The idea that they might be delivering a slave to the Regent with a sailor’s bastard growing in her belly caused them to panic.The ship’s physic had given her some sort of concoction that induced sweats and nausea.Concerned it would not be enough, her stomach was beaten with rocks.That was before they docked in Vere.In Vere, the problem was one of neglect.The Regent had not taken any of the slaves to bed.The Regent was a largely absent figure, busy with affairs of state, served by pets of his own choosing.The slaves were left to their handlers, and to the vagaries of a bored court.Reading between the lines, they were treated as animals, their obedience a parlour trick, and the ‘tests’ thought up by the sophisticated court, which the slaves struggled to perform, were in some cases truly sadistic.As in the case of Erasmus.Damen felt sick.‘You must crave freedom more than I do,’ said Damen.The slave’s courage made him feel ashamed.‘Freedom?’ said Erasmus, sounding scared for the first time.‘Why would I want that? I cannot.I am made for a master.’‘You were made for better masters than these.You deserve someone who appreciates your worth.’Erasmus flushed and said nothing.‘I promise you,’ said Damen.‘I will find a way to help you.’‘I wish—’ said Erasmus.‘You wish?’‘I wish I could believe you,’ said Erasmus.‘You talk like a master.But you are a slave, like I am.’Before Damen could reply, there was a sound from the paths, and, as he had done once before, Erasmus prostrated himself, anticipating the arrival of another courtier.Voices from the path: ‘Where’s the Regent’s slave?’‘Back there [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]