Chapter Six
Animos
I acted strange around her, unable to express thoughts, tripping over my own feet and stuttering through half-assed hellos. She never gave me the time of day, but it was like I was an awkward teenager all over again, my head in a dizzy stupor every time she came near.
Put plainly, Rose rendered me stupid.
So I settled for admiring her from afar, like an angel on a pedestal. It suddenly didn't matter that Urele was calling for me at all hours of the day and night; I went because there was always a small chance that I might catch a glimpse of Rose down the hall. I wanted to speak to her but didn't have the guts, so I ended up hearing bits and pieces about her from the other slaves in the house.
She was only nineteen and had come to the Thayus household from the Crystal Tower in Mirr on the express direction of Charle Frahma. It made me wonder if she were really a rabble-rouser like me, or if she was just too gorgeous for her own good. Then, recalling Diaz's story, I considered she might have been involved in the same hideous trade, but I shook the thought away, it being too gruesome and cruel to dwell on for long.
It was hard for me to tell time when I was around Rose. Was it merely minutes or hours? Days turned quickly to weeks and weeks into months, and all of it was a blur. Life had gotten pretty boring and redundant for me; there were days that I desperately missed the unknown of the Coliseum, but the ever-present possibility of seeing Rose unexpectedly around a corner or exiting a room made it easier to bear.
The lack of action in my life suddenly changed one night, though, as I was making my way to Urele's bedchamber. She'd called for me before dinner, as usual, and though I no longer needed to prepare myself, I typically headed to her room early to set myself up in some new way. The novelty of it kept me from losing interest in her and therefore out of harm's way, and it kept her entertained, so both of us remained relatively happy.
But this time was different. I heard voices coming from the adjacent hallway, and I paused, stopping before I was seen around the corner.
Peering around the wall, I watched Urele and Thayus arguing; she looked youthful and effervescent, as always, while he only looked exasperated. I thought at first that they might be discussing Urele's sexual disloyalty, but then I heard the name, and knew it was something else entirely.
Diaz...
"You haven't heard, Dorian?" Urele snapped in disbelief. "You've got to be joking, because it's all over town."
"Urele, I don't exactly have the time to—"
"Well you should concern yourself with important issues like this! Soa's toes, Dorian! There have been sightings all over the city, and everyone's talking about it. Diaz is back, and something big is going to happen."
"Well I—"
"I want you to be sure we aren't involved in that," she growled. "I'm serious. I won't ever have sex with you again if you don't do what I say."
I could almost hear Dorian roll his eyes. "We don't have sex now, so—"
"Well I'll make sure you won't ever have it again at all! So there! You'd better put precautions into place, or I swear, Dorian Thayus—"
"Okay, okay." He heaved a sigh and I heard him kiss her on the cheek. "I'll come up with something, dear."
Then I heard footsteps, and Dorian stormed around the corner, nearly bumping into me. I tried my best to look like I hadn't just been eavesdropping, but he took one look at me and curled his lip into a disgusted snarl. I hoped it was because he knew I was headed to his wife's bed.
I waited until I heard Urele's door close, and then moved from my spot.
Later that night, over several glasses of wine, Urele spilled the beans to me. I sat there and listened, playing the fool the entire time but not missing a word.
"So Alenia keeps badgering me today about something she saw in town, right? She said she saw two slaves talking in hushed tones and glaring at her like they were going to rape her or something, and then the next I thing I know, I'm hearing all these rumors that Daddy's ex-slave is in town, and he's rounding up all these Humans for a big rebellion."
I just sat there, pretending I couldn't hear a thing. Actually, I figured it was in my best interest to pretend to be asleep, so I closed my eyes and threw a few soft snores in here and there.
"Well what was I supposed to think?" Urele went on. "I didn't know, so I just told her that they were probably rumors, and then I got to thinking myself, and boy, did I really start hearing things then! Everyone was saying that he has a hideout somewhere in Kadessa and that he's gonna get back at Daddy or that he's gonna come and liberate all the slaves. I could've filled a handbag with all the ideas flying around!"
I wanted to tell her that the expression actually involved wishes and shit in the hands, not a handbag, but I kept silent, hoping with all my being that she'd reveal something telling.
"There's all this talk of a slave rebellion now, and I'm scared! Dorian won't do a thing to protect me—" Urele gulped the rest of her wine and poured another glass, draining the bottle. Her aim was hardly accurate now with all the alcohol she'd consumed. "—and then, if that isn't enough, Daddy's all worried that Diaz is setting up some big thingy on the outskirts of Gloriano, where we have no cities. He's a dangerous man, too, from what I hear. All the women in town are scared to death that he's gonna come into their homes and chop up their families. He's planning something, I just know it, and we're all gonna be in trouble!"
If only, I thought miserably, but Urele went on.
"I just wish you or Max could protect me. You're both so strong and brave and ... and Human ..."
Finally, she'd realized who she was speaking to and clammed up, but it was far too late. The freedom bug was back in town, and I was bound and determined to get bit.
"What the hell is this?"
Max breezed into the room and threw a dog-eared and crinkled newspaper in front of me. He stepped back then and folded his arms across his chest.
"It looks like a newspaper, why?"
Max rolled his eyes. "Read what I circled, genius."
Confused and frowning, I picked up the paper. It was already open to the classified section, and the dark ink around the ad left no guesswork to finding exactly what Max wanted me to read. The ad read:
FELDSPAR MANOR—
Wingly landowner looking for
help (servant) to build fire escape.
Willing to pay for materials.
Interested? Apply at the corner
of Liberty & Misery.
OnLY serious offErs wilL be Accepted.
"So?" I said, tossing the paper back to Max.
"So!" he exclaimed, snatching the paper and jabbing a finger at the ad. "Isn't it obvious that this thing is directed right at you?!"
I shook my head and shrugged, but Max persisted.
"No Wingly wrote this! Misery Lane doesn't even exist! It's Miser Lane, and Liberty Street doesn't intersect it."
Suddenly interested, I looked up.
"What? Lemme see that again!"
I grabbed the newspaper back and perused the ad, more slowly this time. Suddenly, I understood Max's suspicions about the ad, but I couldn't allow him to see it, couldn't let him believe it had anything to do with me. My curiosity was piqued, however, and I knew I had to figure out what the ad meant before Max could.
"This is a plot of yours, isn't it?" Max quipped.
"Oh come on," I laughed, rolling my eyes. "It's probably just some old codger playing a prank on everyone. You're reading into this because you want to, not because there's something really there."
I knew I needed to tear the ad out to discover its true meaning, but I had to throw Max off the trail first, so I simply set the paper aside.
"You think this is a joke, Zieg?" he said, incredulous. "It says your friggin' name!"
"No," I corrected, "it says 'feldspar,' a type of mineral."
Max narrowed his eyes. "You think this is funny, don't you?"
"Actually, yes. I'm interested why you're so bothered by it."
"I'm not bothered!" he shouted. "But damn it, I've got a right to know if you're planning something!"
"Why? Why is that your right?" I fired back. "If you were supposed to know, don't you think I would've told you? Believe me, Max; if this meant anything at all to me, I would've found it first and brought it up with you."
"Well no Wingly would write this, that's for sure!"
"And you know that how? Because you used to sleep with one?"
I grinned, knowing Urele's scorn of him made Max furious, and he turned to me, glaring. For a moment I thought he would pounce and clobber me, but he must've thought the better of fighting with a former Guardsman and arena champion, because he just turned and stalked off, leaving me alone with the newspaper. I quickly tore the ad out and shredded the rest, in case he came back for it. I couldn't allow him to know the ad's real intention, even if I hadn't quite figured it out yet. I then made my way to Dorian Thayus' private study.
It wasn't unheard of for Thayus to beat a slave for moving something in his study when he, in fact, had moved it himself and had forgotten about it. Besides, it was risking life and limb for a slave to be caught with educational material anyway, so in normal circumstances, I never would have walked in there. These, however, were not normal circumstances, and I needed some source materials and time alone. With Thayus in meetings all day and Urele doing whatever it was that she did, I had the perfect opportunity.
I began by searching for a map of the city. Thayus was the Head of Parliament; he had to possess a city map somewhere, and sure enough, I found one, rolled up on a paper tube and tucked in a slot on the side of a bookcase. Moving to the huge and elaborate walnut desk in the back of the room, I spread the map out, anchoring its corners with whatever I could find on the desk.
After inspecting the map for only a few minutes, I was disappointed to learn that Max was right. Miser Lane and Liberty Street began at intersections with the same road, then ran immediately parallel for almost two hundred yards before splitting off in opposite directions. The ad was most definitely misleading.
Well it has to mean something, I thought, frustrated. But what?
So I next turned to the ad. Pulling it from my pocket, I plopped into Thayus' armchair, studying the ad with new determination. I took out a pen and another slip of paper and began jotting down notes to myself regarding possible references and meanings.
FELDSPAR MANOR—
What if it was a reference to my name? I marked it down as a possibility and read on.
Wingly landowner looking for help (servant) to build a fire escape ...
I couldn't come up with anything for that line, so I moved on, hoping something later in the ad would give me a clue.
Willing to pay for materials. Apply at the corner of Liberty and Misery ...
Liberty and Misery, I mused. Liberty and misery ...
When the thought came to me, it was so painfully obvious that I laughed out loud. I don't know how I missed it the first time, but there was no way it could be a reference to anything else. The street names indicated that again, Max had been right. The ad was addressed to me from a long-lost friend. A hidden message from Diaz.
Gleeful, I turned back to the ad, now decoding with renewed fervor.
The second line now made sense. It was careful code. Diaz wanted to be certain I got the message and no one else. He knew I was a slave—a servant—but that most can't read. I actually hadn't realized Max could until that moment he'd tossed the paper at me. It was strange that a Wingly looking for slave-based help would place a newspaper ad, so it was no wonder Max had been suspicious.
Furthermore, a Wingly seeking servant help would never offer to pay for materials because he would know slaves couldn't afford them. He would have to pay. It was clearly Diaz's way of disguising his ruse in a typical newspaper ad. Fire ... a reference to the fact that I'd once told Diaz my elemental sign. Escape ...
Could he possibly be telling me to escape? Wasn't it too risky?
No, there has to be something else here, I thought, still searching. Perhaps he has another message for me.
'Apply at the corner and Liberty and Misery' meant something beyond a reference to Diaz, and if I hadn't already known better, I would have chosen that as the spot he wanted to meet. I turned to the last line of the ad, now frustrated again and afraid I had already been in the study for too long.
OnLY serious offErs wilL be Accepted.
Why are some middle letters capitalized? I wondered. Why didn't I notice that before?
Quickly, I wrote down the capital letters, O-L-Y-E-L-A.
Olyela? Is that someone's name? I frowned at the word, confused. Wait, I thought suddenly. The word at the beginning of every sentence is capitalized, so 'O' doesn't belong ...
I scratched out the 'O' so the word now read 'Lyela.'
It was certainly a much prettier name, but also no more help. Frustrated again, I pitched my pen across the room. It struck the far bookcase and clattered to the floor. Now I'd have to remember to pick that up when I left ...
Sighing, I decided I wasn't going to get much more done, so I rolled the map back onto the tube and returned it to its spot in the rack. I retrieved the pen, picked up my scratch paper, and stuck the ad back into my pocket. I left the study, making my way down the hall to the men's quarters. Max was lounging on his bed, so I avoided taking the ad or my notes out and instead flopped onto my own bed, considering the word once more.
Lyela ... Lyela ...
I eventually fell asleep, but the name had no more significance in my dreams.
By morning, I still hadn't come up with anything. Desperate to solve the mystery of the ad before it was too late, I decided I would ask the first slave I came across, even if it meant asking Max.
Only, the first slave I happened to bump into wasn't Max. It was Rose.
She hadn't spoken two words to me since she'd kneed me in the groin, and I'd actually been avoiding her somewhat, embarrassed that I'd come off to her like such an asshole. I'm not sure what it was about today that made things change, whether it was my desperation or Fate, but she spoke to me.
"Good morning, Zieg," she said.
"Hello," I mumbled in response, and before she could simply walk by, I reached out and grabbed her wrist as she passed. She instantly whirled toward me, yanking her hand from my grasp.
"What are you doing?!" she snapped, looking about half-ready to slap me again.
Without a word, I gave her the paper on which I'd copied the last line of the ad as it had appeared in the paper, and then written in the bottom margin the capitalized letters: L-Y-E-L-A.
"What is this?" she asked, glancing at it. She appeared to relax, probably when she realized it wasn't a love letter.
I wanted so badly to tell her the entire story and let her in on my connection to Diaz, but I couldn't. It was too early, too risky, too dangerous. I knew someday I would have to talk to her, to convince her to escape this hell, but today wasn't that day. No, not yet.
I hated the way my voice squeaked as I replied, "Can you figure it out?"
Rose frowned for a moment but turned to the slip of paper, staring intently at it and obviously working out the solution in her head. Then, finally, she looked up, a self-satisfactory smile pulling at her lips.
"It's an anagram," she said. "It spells 'alley.'"
She handed the paper back, but I suddenly felt so stupid, I couldn't speak to thank her. I merely snatched the paper back, bowed hastily and ran off the other direction, feeling my face flush hotter with every stride.
I had the solution to the puzzle, though, and with it, a reasonably complete set of directions from Diaz. I would have to meet him in an alley, somewhere between Miser Lane and Liberty Street. Figuring out how to leave the house without suspicion was next, but conveniently, Diaz had already solved that problem for me...
Some time after breakfast, I strode briskly into Thayus's study, knowing this time I would find him there. He sat behind his desk, poring over stacks of papers likely related in some way to Parliament discussions or law.
"Master," I said, bowing, "can I ask you something?"
Thayus looked up, now appearing more haggard and closer to his fifty-five years than I'd ever seen him. He sighed, pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and motioned me forward.
"I never see you, Zieg," he said, kind and pleasant. "What can I help you with?"
I found it strange that he had such a reputation for nastiness, and I began to suspect that his wife had much more to do with that than he let on.
"I have a request, sir—" I replied, holding out the ad I'd torn from the paper. It was a flash quick enough only for Thayus to read the first few lines and prove myself truthful.
"—I'd like to help this man with his fire escape. Things have been boring in my department, as of late—"
Thayus winced then, as if I'd struck him with my sword.
"—and I think this might keep me busy."
Thayus nodded grimly and pulled open a drawer of his desk, removing a tablet. He tore a sheet of paper from it, scribbled something down, and handed it to me.
"It's a pass," he said. "For temporary leave of absence. It basically grants you the ability to hire yourself out, but you continue to belong to me."
He spat the words 'belong to me' like they were poison in his mouth; I wondered if he didn't really believe in the system as strongly as his father-in-law and so many others, but the thought quickly vanished as I looked at the piece of paper in my hands.
"Go on, Zieg," Thayus said, cheerful again. "Help whomever you like and come back, but I don't want you out there too long."
"Thank you, sir," I said, bowing.
I turned and forced myself not to race out the door. And then, with my master's permission, I trotted out of the house, clutching my temporary release papers and suddenly feeling more free than I had all my life.
Once I'd reached my relative destination, I realized how truly ingenious the spot was: Miser Lane and Liberty Street were fairly out-of-the-way, and they split off before a busy plaza, cloaking the nearby neighborhoods in noise pollution and crowds. The short distance the two streets ran next to each other narrowed my search further, now to the alleyways between the two; they were a perfect hiding spot for a clandestine meeting, especially with a person wanted by every law enforcement organization in society.
Three alleyways connected the two thoroughfares, all of them about equidistant from each other, and all of them fairly wide and open. Two of them contained side entrances to the buildings they flanked, frequented by Winglies as they entered and exited, and the third alley was actually more of a street itself.
But there was a fourth alley as well and it was the only one that made sense.
It was tucked between the second and third passageways, and was considerably narrow. I would have missed it, had I not been looking for it. One entered the alley from Miser Lane, but there was no way to pass through to Liberty Street because the building that sat on the lot blocked the passage and cut the alley in two. The metaphorical significance blew my mind. Diaz had to be there.
I made my way toward the alley, trying to move quickly but trying equally as hard not to look suspicious. Thankfully, no one noticed me, either because I was just a Human or because my former celebrity status hadn't followed me out of the arena.
"Diaz?"
I walked into the alley, padding forward cautiously. It was dangerous enough for me, as a slave, to be seen in the city alone; I didn't want to risk being seen with a known outlaw, too. Besides, exposing Diaz would likely mean the loss of Humanity's only way out of slavery.
"Diaz?" I repeated.
"Back here," I heard him hiss. "Glad to see you figured it out. I was beginning to get concerned."
I trotted to the back of the alley, where he was nestled between a pair of rusty trash cans and a dumpster that appeared to have been empty for some time now.
"How'd you get in here?!" I cried, not thinking.
"Shh! Get down!"
I ducked out of sight behind the trash cans and leaned close to Diaz.
"How'd you get into the city like that?!" I repeated. "You're in plainclothes!"
Diaz chuckled. "I doubt anyone but you and Frahma truly remembers what I look like anymore."
I shook my head in disbelief, but I knew he was right. Diaz was the only man I knew who would have the audacity to walk into the Wingly capital city as the world's most wanted criminal.
"Besides," he continued, "I'm really more of a legend than a reality these days."
"I know," I said. "They're calling you 'The One Who Got Away.'"
Diaz laughed again and waved the comment away humbly.
"Anyway, we have only a short time," he said, getting back to business. "I must tell you what I need to say quickly—"
I nodded my understanding, not wanting to interrupt him. Diaz peeked above the trash cans to make certain no one was going to overhear. I guessed it was a typical reaction for him now.
"—Okay," he said, turning back to me, "I had to meet with you because we're going to break you out, Zieg."
Though I had been sure of it when I read the 'fire escape' reference in the newspaper ad, hearing those words was like meeting Soa face-to-face.
"Really?" I said, still in shock. "How?"
"I can't disclose that right now, but what I can tell you is that we've set up a series of 'safe houses,' thanks to an unexpected benefactor."
"Safe houses?"
"Yes," Diaz said. It was obvious he was growing impatient. "There have been several Winglies who've stepped forward as allies."
"Winglies?!" I hissed, incredulous. "We can't trust them!"
"As far as we know, they oppose slavery and are willing to protect us and support our cause."
I considered it for a moment, but Diaz again turned up correct. We really had no choice. The only way to protect ourselves in such a situation was to have friends in high places, regardless of the fact that we would be exposing ourselves to the potential for betrayal.
"And this benefactor you speak of," I said. "He's a Wingly?"
"Names and genders are undisclosed at this point, but I think it's safe to say that the answer to that question is yes."
I nodded, and Diaz went on, "I'm in the process of building an army to take on the Winglies."
"An army, Diaz?! That'll take thousands of us!"
Diaz shook his head sadly. "Slavery has you blinded, my friend," he said. "Just trust me for the time."
"I want to, but ..."
"I know. But it's a necessity. We must have an army if we expect to win our freedom. There's a war brewing. I'm sure you can feel it."
It was true. I'd known it from the day I'd been put in chains. I swore I'd obtain my freedom again, but I suppose lately I'd been more infatuated with Rose than concerned for my own future. It disappointed me, and I listened to Diaz a little harder.
"I want this army," he said, "and most importantly, Zieg, I want you on the front lines."
"What?"
"Please, we have no time for resistance. Do you desire liberty or do you want to live like a penned animal for the rest of your life?"
I frowned and averted my eyes. He knew the answer and he knew he had me by the balls.
"So can I count on you?" His eyes pleaded with me to accept.
I knew I couldn't say no. I missed the adrenaline rush of battle, and a taste of freedom was too tempting a reward.
"Fine," I said. "What do you need me to do? Be a commander?"
Diaz shook his head, chuckling. "As valuable as I believe you'd be in that position, I need you for something else."
"Like what?"
"I can't explain it now. Not here. It's too risky. But I will say that I've had a vision. It will change the course of history if we can make it work. It won't be easy and it won't be fun, but it may just win us a war."
I couldn't begin to comprehend what he meant, so I left it at that, assuming he'd tell me eventually.
"All right. So when do I get rescued?" I asked.
Diaz smiled. "Listen closely, Zieg, because I can only say this once—"
I nodded expectantly. Diaz spoke quickly now, his voice containing an urgency I hadn't heard before.
"—I am going to place another classified ad in the newspaper a week hence, posing as a Wingly female looking for love. It will be written in code, but you will understand when you see it. It will let you know the date and the time when I and my companions will come for you. It will also contain a meeting place, should something go awry. Have the other slaves in the household prepared."
"But what if they refuse to come?"
Diaz laughed. "They would deny themselves the right to freedom?" he asked. He made it sound more ridiculous than I knew it to be.
I just shrugged. "Just a thought."
"I know several of the slaves in the Thayus household personally. Anais and Jessup are relatives of mine. Gerard would have been my son-in-law had things worked out. They will come."
"And the others?"
"I'm sure you'll be able to convince them."
I sighed, not really sure what I was getting myself into, but Diaz stood, signaling that our meeting was over. He took my hand and smiled at me in a fatherly sort of way.
"Good luck, Zieg. May the Divine Tree's favor be upon you."
And before I could say anything else, he walked off, his back straight and his stride confident, disappearing into the crowd in the street beyond.
The next few days, I agonized over Diaz's message.
What could he possibly want me for, outside of being a soldier? How was I going to convince all nine Thayus slaves to leave a life of relative comfort for a life filled with the unknown? I figured I couldn't spend the rest of my life debating it, though. I had only a week to persuade everyone to stand up to their oppressors, and I knew it would be no easy task.
As Diaz said, Anais was quite agreeable to the notion, as was her husband, Jessup, who had been transferred to Thayus' care from Frahma's before my arrival. The maid, Liza, was apprehensive at first, but she appeared much more at ease when I explained that the rest of us would be going with her. Abraham, Thayus's personal assistant, took quite a bit of convincing before he relented, apparently satisfied with his cushy life as a slave, but Chomm, the obese and genial cook, possessed no qualms about leaving. He even joked that he might lose some weight if not in the kitchen all day.
Gerard, the Thayus butler, proved much more difficult to convince, however.
"Hey, Gerard," I said, entering the dining room, finding the butler seated at the table having a cup of tea.
He looked up, rolling his eyes when he saw me.
"What do you want?" he snapped, setting his teacup in its saucer.
"Just to talk, really." I approached the table and leaned one elbow on the back of a chair, resting my other hand on my hip.
"Ever thought of freedom?" I asked.
Gerard shook his head vigorously. "Oh no," he said quickly. "Oh no, I'm not going to listen. I'm not one of your little rebel friends, and you're not going to convert me."
He went to stand up, but I shoved him back down.
"That's not what this is about."
"Oh? Then what?" he snapped. "I was under the impression that any mention of freedom by Humans is cause enough for punishment."
"Just listen. I have an opportunity to get us out of here."
"Isn't that how you landed yourself in the Coliseum?"
"No!" I shook my head, fighting the irritation rising in my chest. "No. I'm only asking you this because I don't want to see you punished if you remain behind."
"You think they'd punish me if you ran?"
"They might if you're the only one left," I said, suppressing a laugh.
"What do you mean?" Gerard suddenly seemed interested.
"I mean, we're all leaving. All of us."
"Not Liza," he said, as if he were asking a question.
"Yes, Liza."
"Then certainly not Abraham."
"Abraham too."
"And Anais?"
"Yup."
Gerard cursed under his breath and hung his head. "I should've known," he said. "She's that damned Diaz's sister."
"It wasn't his fault you know."
Gerard jerked his head up at me, eyes full of hatred. "How would you know?"
I shrugged ambiguously. "I just do. And I understand your bitterness too. Believe me."
"I'm not bitter," he snapped.
"Come on, you know it! Frahma killed Beatta when Diaz refused to. Common knowledge."
"But he killed them because Diaz tried to escape."
"Which is exactly why you should!" I said. "Look at you, Gerard. They've brainwashed you!"
"They have not!"
"Then prove it," I demanded, leaning toward him. "Run with us."
Gerard looked away, like he was actually considering it. I felt giddy.
"And how will you go?" he asked, glancing at me from the corner of his eye.
"That I don't know yet. I've got to trust my sources."
"And who is that?" he fired back. "Diaz?"
I shrugged again. "Dunno. Maybe. Are you willing to trust him too, if it means your freedom?"
Gerard paused, then slowly shook his head. My heart fell.
"I can't," he said. "He ruined my life."
"And he could grant you a new one, if you'd only follow us."
Again, Gerard shook his head.
"No. I refuse."
Frustrated, I decided that maybe playing a little reverse psychology would start moving things in my favor.
"Suit yourself," I said, sighing. "But if you change your mind, I'll just tell you this: it's gonna happen. We'll be gone, and you'll be stuck here. Alone."
"And when is 'soon'?" Gerard scoffed, clearly bothered by the 'alone' comment.
"Less than a week."
He shook his head, the pompous air about him returning. "Impossible," he said. "Even if I wanted to escape, I can't. I must begin the preparations for His Excellency's birthday celebration."
I slapped the table in disbelief, now thoroughly irritated.
"What preparations could you possibly have to make?" I cried. "We're not going!"
"You're not going," he corrected. "Mistress will surely require my expertise with serving."
I rolled my eyes. "You know, I'm a little tired of your pretentiousness. It's a shame that someone so sure of himself can't be of more use than a butler."
Gerard's eyes flashed at the insult, and he said, "I'm sorry, I didn't realize I was now taking orders from Mistress's fuck buddy."
My blood boiled and I resisted the urge to shove my fist so far into Gerard's face that his teeth would fall out his ass.
"It's personal pleasure assistant," I grumbled, enunciating every syllable.
"That title is ridiculous, and so is the notion of Human freedom. Your idea is reckless and unfounded, Zieg. I have no intentions of leaving. But perhaps you should?"
"You know what, Gerard?" I said, "I will leave, but you'd better keep your mouth shut about this if you're not coming."
"Don't worry, Zieg," Gerard retorted. "I won't say a word. Just know that you and your little cronies will be caught. You will. And it won't be on my conscience."
I clenched my fists and turned on my heel, not exactly willing to pick a fight with another slave over issues as sensitive as freedom and escape. But before I left, an idea struck me.
"You'd better be damned sure that servitude is what you want for the rest of your life," I said, turning around in the doorway. "I won't come back for you. Diaz might, but I won't. And maybe you'll end up the fuck buddy."
"So be it," Gerard said, chin held high.
He was resolute. I'd tried and failed, so I left. But even without Gerard's consent, two other slaves still stood in the way to the complete freedom of all those in the Thayus household.
Max ... and Rose.
"You're crazy, Zieg," Max said, in disbelief. He shook his head like a mother shakes her head at a misbehaving child.
I'd brought up the idea of escaping with him, and since then it'd been nothing but a big, fat lecture about how he'd known my plan all along and that I shouldn't have attempted to keep the newspaper a secret. Meanwhile, I'd said nothing of the newspaper, and spent the rest of the time trying to convince him that it wasn't a plot of mine, and that it wasn't as insane as it sounded. None of it was working.
"I'm not crazy," I insisted. But something about the way Max spoke to me made me hang my head in disappointed shame. In all likelihood, it had something to do with his propensity for starting drama in the house.
"I'm hurt, Zieg," Max said, sounding very much like a bad actor in the lead part of a well-known play. "I am offended that you would keep something away from me that's also so clearly meaningful to you."
"So let me get this straight," I said. "You're actually angrier that I didn't tell you ahead of time than you are at the notion of escape?"
"Of course!" Max snapped. "I thought we were buddies, Zieg. You were supposed to tell me everything."
I wasn't sure I considered someone a 'buddy' if I'd only known them for three months, but at this point, I was willing to do anything to get the other slaves to go along with me. If Max thought of me as his buddy, well then ... I was his best one.
"Well, jeez, Max," I said. "I wasn't aware of that, or I woulda told you about it. But that's why I want you to come with me! I can't leave without my friends!"
My ego-stroking seemed to appease him. He sat on the bed next to me and slung an arm around my shoulders.
"You know, I didn't really like you when you first came here. I mean, we are opponents after all—" He jerked his thumb in the direction of Urele's room. "—but I think we've grown pretty close over the past few months, don't you?"
I fought the urge to roll my eyes and nodded instead. "Of course."
"Well, then ... you'll trust me when I say this." He leaned close and whispered in my ear, "I don't think you should risk escaping."
I frowned. "Why not? This isn't exactly heaven, you know," I snapped, motioning with my arm at the room around us.
"Yeah, but freedom's not all it's cracked up to be. You're too used to being a slave, like me. Like Rose. Like all of them. It's a comfort thing. We'd never last in the wild."
I shook my head, half-irritated, half-confused. Was he using reverse psychology on me? If he was, he was doing a terrible job.
"It's for your own safety, Zieg," he went on. "I wouldn't wanna see my best buddy—" He gripped my shoulder and jostled me about for good measure. "—get hurt, would I?"
"I guess not."
"Good. Well then you won't run, right?"
I sighed heavily. "Max, you know I can't do that. I've been free before. I've had more than a taste of it, and I want it back. I'd rather go back to the Coliseum sometimes than be trapped in here all day long with nothing to do but stare at the walls and look forward to the smell of Urele's bed sheets."
Max shrugged like that didn't bother him, but there was no way I would stand for it.
"I can't," I went on. "I'm going to escape when they come, with or without you, friends or not. I can promise you that."
"I guess suit yourself, buddy," Max said, patting my shoulder. He stood and turned to face me. "I'm just saying, that if I were in your shoes, I'd take my advice."
And with that, he left the room, sauntering away to do god-knows-what.
I was left with more than a sinking feeling in my stomach. I felt like I'd just been swindled, manipulated. Something about my conversation with Max wasn't right, and I just couldn't put my finger on it.
Not discouraged by my apparent lack of success in convincing my associates that freedom was worth escape, I gathered my courage to finally speak to Rose. I knew the day would come; I just hadn't expected it to be so soon.
It was the day before Frahma's birthday party in the palace, and it seemed everyone was making preparations for the big day. I could've cared less, but the slaves weren't exactly allowed to forget about the celebration, even if we weren't invited. Rose was in the eldest child's room, putting the finishing touches on the little princess's dress for the party, a huge, poufy number full of frills and sparkles. I was on my way outside to stake the place out and potentially discover a way to help our rescuers in whatever way possible. It was on a whim that I'd ducked my head in the doorway.
"Hey," I said, quietly.
She looked up but didn't smile. I fought my nerves, forcing myself to remain calm, but my usual confidence was apparently out of the question.
"C,can we talk?" I asked.
She nodded and sat the dress aside, uncrossed her legs and stood.
"Let's go outside," she said, motioning toward the door. "I've been cooped up all day and I need some fresh air."
I followed her downstairs and out the front door, where we strolled the front grounds, side-by-side. I hoped desperately that she couldn't hear my heart racing.
"Hey, listen," I said, finally finding the courage to speak again. "I, uh ... I'm really sorry about the way I treated you a few weeks ago."
Rose smiled but said nothing, and she continued to stare at the ground as we walked.
"I mean, I didn't ... at least, I hope you didn't think I was, uh ..."
"It's fine," Rose said, saving me from my pathetic stuttering.
"Ah, okay. Good. That's good." I stole a glance at her. Her smile had spread, and it gave me new confidence to go on.
"Anyway," I said, "I meant to introduce myself properly, I guess. I'm Zieg."
"I know."
"And you're ... uh ... you're Rose, right?"
"Mm-hmm."
"Uh, yeah ... okay." I mentally kicked myself in the balls. I didn't blame Rose for doing it before. I was more than annoying, and I had no idea how to recover.
"So," I went on. "You're ... you're the nanny, then."
"Yes."
I laughed, my nervousness painfully obvious.
"Do you only speak in one-word answers?" I asked, not intending it to sound as rude as it probably did.
Rose looked up. "It depends," she said. "Do you always ask such mundane questions?"
I laughed again and it didn't sound so nervous this time, though I wasn't entirely sure she had been kidding with me. I chose to ignore her question and went on.
"I don't like what I do," I said, "but I think you knew that. I mean, I guess none of us really does, right?"
Rose just shrugged. I was frustrated that the conversation was so one-sided.
"So where'd you grow up?" I asked.
There, I thought firmly. Try to evade that question with a one-word response!
"Gloriano," she said.
Damn ...
"I was free once," I continued, hoping she'd expand her answer. "Grew up near Mirr. My parents and siblings were killed. Murdered by the Winglies in a fire. They burned the whole damned block down for land development. I lost my entire family."
"I'm sorry to hear that."
"What about you?" I pressed, glancing sidelong at her.
She shook her head, closing her eyes as if remembering the pain. Uncomfortable silence settled between us and I suddenly wished I'd never asked her anything.
"We don't have to discuss this—"
"What's this about, Zieg?" she said finally, turning to me abruptly. "I've got things to finish before Frahma's party."
We came to a stop then, and I sat beneath the huge, shady tree near the front yard's west end. I patted the ground next to me as I looked up at Rose. She rolled her eyes and sat.
"I guess what I really wanted to talk to you about was this," I said, boldly looking into her eyes. They were a lovely shade of lavender. "I'm sure you're no stranger to my past. I was imprisoned for helping a slave named Diaz escape from Melbu Frahma's house. He's now the most wanted criminal alive, and I've been communicating with him."
If Rose had any apprehension or reaction regarding my statement, it didn't show in her face. She merely appeared to be waiting, ready for me to continue.
"Anyway he's managed to supply me with the information that he and a group of raiders will be entering Kadessa, with the intention of breaking us out."
"Us?" Rose asked, looking amused.
"I, I mean ... I guess I wasn't ... I meant, I—"
For the first time ever, I heard Rose giggle. It was like music.
"Go on," she prodded.
I shook the fog away and said, "Diaz told me to plead with the other slaves in the house ahead of time. So that's what I meant to ask you. By 'us,' I meant all of us. You, me, Anais, Jessup, Abe ... all of us."
Rose fell immediately silent, dropping her gaze to her shoes. She plucked a blade of grass and inspected it, then let it fly away in the wind. But not once did she look at me.
"You have to come," I said. "I don't want anyone left behind."
Rose's face twitched, like she couldn't decide whether to frown or smile and she looked away, pressing her lips together tightly. Silence fell again. A bird sang from somewhere above, in the tree.
"I'm not leaving without you, Rose," I said suddenly, surprising even myself. "I can't."
She looked at me, obviously startled, but something about her expression told me she was curious, rather than annoyed.
"Why not?" she asked.
I shrugged and turned my gaze to the ground. I couldn't possibly tell her I'd fallen hopelessly head-over-heels in love with her. It was impossible for the feeling to be mutual, and I didn't expect it to be. There was just something about her I felt the need to protect. She seemed fragile, somehow. Bruised. Hurt. I wondered at it, but couldn't make myself admit the real truth.
"I dunno," I said lamely. "I just ... can't. I know, it's stupid."
Rose didn't say anything, just shook her head, and I nearly dropped dead when she placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder.
"I'm touched that you asked me, Zieg."
I looked up at her, confused now. She only smiled, almost condescendingly, and said, "I'll think about it."
She then stood, brushed her bottom off and made her way down the hill, away from the house, her steps dainty and sure. I watched her go, my heart and hope sinking a little more with every stride she took.
