Chapter Seven - A TEST OF PATIENCE

It has been two days, now. I have tried to slip away to climb to the top of the hill but since my lengthy departure on the night of our arrival my master has made sure that I am on hand at all times. He is aware of the fact I was not present during his first meal with Livu but he has not pressed the matter. I do not know if he is aware of the fact that I was on the hill with the lady of the house.

At this time, I do not care.

My friend is very ill. The very few times I am allowed to see him he is paler and more unresponsive than before. The other slave of Maru has tried to convince me and others passing the cell that he has a plague and word has spread throughout the house. No one voices a concern or tells me to stay away, though, and I still visit regularly. Since I do not seem affected by his illness they are fairly satisfied that it cannot spread. Perhaps that is why they allow me to visit – at the first sign of illness from me they may kill and burn us. Medical aid is not wasted on slaves.

Now he is almost asleep but he still tosses and turns on his cot. His fever is high and his skin is hot to the touch. I am no master of medicine and I know that no such practitioner will be called for him so I take care of him as best I can. Because I have so little time with him I have to rush to gather water and cloth to bathe his body and brow.

I cannot tell what has happened to him. I fear for his life for he has not eaten for three days and whatever I try to put into his mouth is either spat or vomited out again. The cell reeks of his bodily waste and I wish for open air and fresh food. My master does not want to waste fruit or fresh meals on him and I gather he does not care whether he lives or dies.

I do smuggle small pieces of fruit but the simpleton rejects these. The food is pushed from my hand as he bats it away like an obstinate child and several times I have grown angry with him. He does not understand my anger, and even if he was as sound of mind as any normal man I doubt whether his illness would allow him to understand.

It is strange but his words come out more evenly and with more clarity although I cannot place the words in any order to make any coherent meaning. He speaks in a strange language sometimes, like that of the Setnin inhabitants. From his stature and appearance he could have been from anywhere, but his ramblings do not give away any heritage. With strength of will I persevere.

But it is not only the simpleton that tests my patience. Every day we make ready to leave for the final journey, a simple route down a road, to the gates of the capital city. Every day there is fresh talk between my master and Livu and we unpack our things and wait, once again, for the decision to depart.

I so wish to step through the gates of the capital city and walk its streets! The buildings I saw from the hilltop were mere shades and half-illuminated colossal constructs and I was desperate to regard them up-close. If only my master would hurry and make a decision! My tenseness would leave me, I would be able to get the simpleton into the fresh air and I would be able to marvel at the city I have only seen from the top of a hill.

The Lady of the house who dragged me up that hill has been out of sight these past two days. I do not know whether she was embarrassed by her actions or whether her duties in the house were more important than I realised, but nevertheless I have not seen her. I will not inquire as to the whereabouts of the Lady. I am a slave after all, how could I?

Being the age that I am I have known the pleasure of the company of women and have also wondered at how I would treat a woman when I see one that attracts me, but this Lady has not bought such thoughts to the fore of my mind. Am I not attracted to her? She is lovely, her visage, framed by her dark hair, was fine indeed, but I did not feel as though I would have liked to have taken this woman immediately to bed. That fact is confusing to me. Her light laughter was almost infectious and I wonder if, at any time during our short sojourn together from the house walls, I also smiled with the same enthusiasm. Smiles and happiness do not come to me easily now. That is not another aspect of my tragedy, it is simply the truth. I wish I could find that part of myself that once laughed and cried with such ease. Perhaps it will return to me in time. Perhaps not. I do not think I will miss it, for I do not fully remember it.

I try not to think of her. Such things are not for a slave to ponder.

The simpleton has quietened and I wonder as to whether this is the beginning of his end. Will his life slip away as he sleeps? I hope so, if such a thing does happen. I would not like the thought of him awake and staring into the eyes of the taker of souls as he comes for him for I do not think his small mind would cope. The idea of him crying like a young boy as his life is taken from his body is discomforting.

Now he sleeps. It must be a dreamless sleep for he is still and I cannot help but touch his chest to be sure his heart still beats. It is slow but it is constant and I feel assured he will survive and make my way out of the cell.

The slave boy is still sat outside the room and mumbles something to me about there not being much time left for him. I consider kicking the boy but I let it pass – my master does not tolerate violence between his slaves and will punish both although only one be guilty.

As I walk into the courtyard I see the repulsorwagons that belong to Maru are being filled once again with belongings, this time with several skins of wine, and I allow myself to sigh heavily as I approach him. He turns at the sound of my arrival and regards me with contempt.

“Is he dead?” he asks.

I shake my head. “No, master, he sleeps.”

“Well, I hope you are capable of carrying him, cripple, because now we leave.”

I am not convinced of the fact and slowly begin to help placing items onto the speeder. He slaps my arm and hurries me along. I am very confused, now. This time he appears to be telling the truth.

I nod towards one of Maru’ attendants and then nod towards my master. “Is it true?” I ask.

“It’s true,” is the reply. The dark-skinned attendant appears as vexed as our master. “Word has it that Monima the trainer has already passed through the gates with his fighters and he does not want to endanger his friend here at the house.”

“More likely he does not want Monima to spread rumours he is not at hand to squash,” I muse aloud, eliciting a small laugh from the attendant. The words were not meant as jest.

As the last of the items are being placed onto the cart I decide to try and convey the simpleton here. With no help forthcoming I try to formulate a plan to carry him, but I know that whatever I decide will fail. How can a one-armed man carry a person the size of the simpleton? My only hope was that he had at least some mobility of his own.

With my good arm under his shoulder I heave and I am glad that his eyes open slightly. He moans softly and tries to pull away so I whisper encouragement and try to convey to him that he must accompany me. He does not wish it and simply slumps to the cot once more.

I should walk from the cell and ask for help but I know that no one wants to touch him. His illness, even though it does not appear to be one that is passed on to those around him, worries them and they think him a burden too useless to carry. So once again my arm goes under his shoulder and I manage to move him to a sitting position. With my half-arm under his other shoulder I try to get him up.

If I do not get him up then my master will leave him, of this I am certain, and my attempts to heave him to his feet become more urgent and, after several more tries, more of panic. My voice is raised and my anger evident. Perhaps it is this that makes him try to get control of his own limbs.

He is using me as an aid for his walking and it is like this we emerge from the cell and into the courtyard. Eyes watch us with either curiosity or disdain and I continue to shout at the simpleton as we stagger to the vehicles.

It is then that I see the Lady again, her dress different to the one she was adorned with the night I first saw her and her hair loose about her shoulders. Her face is one of concern and she takes a step to approach but she holds her movement. I must have the red face of exertion, now, and my strength is rapidly fading as the simpleton relies on my support more and more as we approach the repuslorwagon.

With a final heave he is inside and I lift his legs in. The cage is sealed and I stiffly move to stand with my master.

“What makes you want to care for such a fool?” Maru demands, obviously questioning my actions for Livu was now standing with him.

I stand as erect as I can manage. “We are alike,” I say. “And I do not leave fallen friends behind.”

“Alike is correct, you do not have one wit between you both.”

Livu is watching me curiously. I see that his eyes are moving between me and another person by the wagons and they seem to be filled with distaste. I look to see who else he is looking at and I see that it is the Lady of the house. She is watching me, her face etched with worry and concern. Livu sees this and obviously does not like it.

“Farewell, Maru,” he says quickly, turning to my master and patting him on the back. “It a short road to the capital city but I hope it is an uneventful one.”

Maru appears surprised by the sudden words of parting but he quickly composes himself and climbs into the speeder. “Thank you for your hospitality, Livu. I will pass this way again when I return north to the starship port.”

“You are welcome,” comes the reply, and emphasis on the word ‘you’. His eyes are back on mine now and he follows my movements as I climb into the open speeder behind my master.

As the repulsorwagons begin to move away Livu takes the Lady’s hand and says, “Come, Luyen.”

Luyen. Her name was Luyen.

As the vehicles start to slowly move through the gates of the house I am overcome by a muted happiness that I knew her name. I also feel the hand of fate on my shoulder. Had she been placed by the Gods at this house, positioned so to make sure I was reminded of what I had agreed to become, to pay for my mistakes?

Now my heart hangs heavy as we leave the house and make the final short journey to the capital city. I cannot help but think what could have been, what I would have said and perhaps done to win her affections and yet here I am, a slave of little importance, and I cannot do anything to express myself in her presence.

As quickly as the feelings arrive they fade once more and then we are on the road. It may seem that I intentionally hardened my heart to stop the washes of sadness from flowing down me and that would be entirely true. I do not do it to add to my pain, I do it because it is the only option left to me. Now I find myself staring into the future and that the truth, in fact, was that she was cold hearted and merciless and that she would have used me and cast me away. This image helps to relieve my sadness.

There are droves of people heading into the mother city. Long lines of strangely dressed beings with shades of skin varying with their attire. Other repulsorwagons, speeders, bikes and simple hover-litters pulled by riddabeast travel along the road and we join the procession. Maru smiles and passes greetings to those around us. Some return the hail and some do not and I do not understand their ignorance. I surmise that they are also heading into the city to trade and consider my master a threat to business. Perhaps some of them knew him.

The gates loom huge above us and I stare with awe. They are greater than I imagined, far higher and wider than I had thought as I stared at them in the half-darkness from the hill. The great arch passes over us and we are showered with petals heavy with scent from well wishers atop the wall. As we enter the city I am covered with the flowers and I bat them away from my face.

Now we are in the capital city proper and all about are buildings with huge columns supporting strangely shaped roofs. Some of the buildings seem entirely pointless, merely column and top, but they are grand and carved with such beauty I do not care for their function. Tall pillars are topped with statues that reach for the sky or seem to cast their naked purity to the streets below. Men wrought from alloy ride riddabeasts carved from stone. Great war machines and beasts I have never seen before grope into the air, some leaning over the streets as if protecting us from the sky. The streets are paved with white stone and seem to be perpetually clean even though hundreds of beings walk them. I have never seen so many individuals in one place since my time in the army and the fact that they all wear casual clothing and are here for pleasure is a strange experience. Vessels come and go, starships of a hundred designs rise and fall from the heavens.

Although many wear smiles there are many who do not. The Ki-Ki Sector, for all its splendour and apparent gaiety, is not without seriousness and many people walk the streets with downcast eyes, attending to their own business. How can they live in such a splendid place and not stare at the magnificence of their home?

Soldiers walk the streets but they are strangely armed, with vibrosword and energy shield, and with rifles in hand. Their armour is darker than the average legionary and they walk in pairs. Some smile at the locals but they offset this with glares at the newcomers.

Our repulsorwagons wind down narrow streets and wide concourse until we turn a narrow corner and come out by the famed Master Theatre, the arena. It stands before me, tier upon tier of arch and statue, and as I begin to take in its terrible majesty I am cuffed by my master.

“Crippled and deaf?” he snaps. “I said unload the wagon!”

We have stopped by a small building with red and white walls, a part of a long row of lodgings that are topped by a red tiled roof. As I start to grab sacks and bags my master slams his heavy fist onto the door.

The portal slides open to reveal an old woman with heavy makeup to cover her age and she smiles warmly.

“My dear, how wonderful to see you!” she cries too loudly, appearing slightly alarmed at my master’s presence. “Welcome back!”

“You have my house ready for me, I take it?” Maru says with mock blustering that makes me squirm. The woman disappears back into the dwelling with one of my master’s larger attendants.

I wait in the street with an armful of belongings and after a while I hear a scuffle inside the building. The attendant and the woman roughly push two people, a man and a woman of a young age, into the street. The woman screams something about not wanting their kind and that real Ki-Ki Citizens should be the guests at her house, that they were there only temporarily and that their money was worthless. As they are pushed into the street another man appears at the door.

The man is huge, with bulging arms to rival my simpleton friend, and he casts two bags into the street roughly stuffed with the two’s belongings. As the cast-out man starts to move back to the building, loudly protesting his forced removal, the big man stands firm and crosses his arms, a toothless grin on his face. The man’s woman takes his arm and pulls him away, taking her bag in her hand and pulling him down the street.

“People and their false Gods have no place in this Sector!” the woman shouts loudly to end the altercation and then her mood changes from anger to softness as she regards my master.

“My dear,” Maru says, “you must be more tolerant of the ways of others.” I cannot tell if he is serious or merely jesting.

I am not allowed to carry my friend into the house until I have unloaded the repulsorwagon but I am glad to see that he is more mobile than before. Although he is still unwell the fresh air has obviously done him some good and there is a fresh colour to his cheeks.

As I move him in through the door I catch a glance of a man I have seen somewhere before, recently. I move to look into the man’s direction and I see that he is already watching me. He stares at me for an instant and is gone.

Although he is out of his armour I know that he is one of the trainer’s guards, the one who took me to the cell we were cast into during our short stay at the fighter school. I look around the street to see if anyone else I may recognise is abroad but the crowds seem to be harmless. With a worried glance back at the Master Theatre, and a dark thought at what the vengeful Monima may be capable of, I enter the building.