A Slave to Magic (3 page)

“I wasn’t reading, Nera,” Kwil lied. “I was only
straightening the books.”

Nera narrowed her eyes as she observed the slave.
“I heard you pronouncing the words,” she said. “You were reading.” Looking
around the room, she added, “Everything in here is perfectly straight, just as
you left it earlier. There was no need for you to return.” In a more accusing
tone, she said, “I saw the pages move when you cast the spell.”

Kwil felt the redness creep into his face.
“Please, Mistress,” he said. “I meant no harm.” Breathing heavily, he kept his
head downward, staring at his feet.

“Relax,” she said, picking up the book. “You want
to learn magic?”

Kwil’s head shot up, staring at the Gatan. “More
than anything,” he said, his voice a hoarse whisper.

The corners of Nera’s mouth turned up, her face
showing no sign of suspicion. “I don’t want to learn it,” she said. “My parents
are forcing me to attend the College.” Trotting over to her bed she opened the
wooden case and pulled out a lute. Leaning back against her pillow, she
strummed at the strings. “I prefer music, but that isn’t smart enough for my
parents.”

“You’re a free woman,” Kwil replied. “Why not just
do what you love?” The idea that a Gatan couldn’t choose her own path was alien
to him. A slave had no choice, but a highborn lady certainly had one.

“Papa would likely send me away if I left school,”
Nera responded. “What he doesn’t realize is, there are other ways to make magic
besides casting spells. And music is much more fun than memorizing spells all
day.”

Kwil didn’t have an answer. Instead he stood
silently for several minutes as Nera played a soft tune. He gave a quiet
applause as she finished. “Can you sing?” he asked.

“Not very well,” she replied honestly. “You?”

“Afraid not, Mistress,” he said.

“Stop calling me that. I already told you my name
is Nera.”

“Of course, Nera,” he corrected. “Forgive me.”

Setting her lute aside, she sat up on her bed and
looked at him. “You can’t take the book from here,” she said. “If anyone
catches you with it, well I don’t have to tell you what will happen.”

Kwil nodded. Once again he would be cut off from
learning, thanks to his lowly status.

“What you can do,” she began, “is study it here
with me.”

His jaw dropping open, Kwil could barely take in a
breath. Was she serious? She was going to help him learn?

“I’m not very good at it,” she continued, “so I
won’t be much of a teacher. But you can study while I play my lute. That way no
one will hear your voice when you pronounce the incantations.”

His eyes filling with tears, Kwil fought the urge
to grab the girl and hug her. Such an act would be completely inappropriate,
but he felt an almost overwhelming sense of gratitude toward her. “Thank you,
Nera,” he said. “Thank you and thank you.” Not knowing what else to say, his
words trailed off.

“You’re welcome,” she replied. “You can begin now
if you like.”

Kwil jumped at the opportunity, eagerly grabbing
the book and situating himself in a corner out of her way. Today was the
beginning of his true life. Finally he had the chance to learn and develop the
magic that lingered inside him, yearning to be set free.

E
ach day Kwil spent
more time in Nera’s room, reading and practicing the magic written in the pages
of her books. He learned a variety of simple spells, and he felt a sense of
pride he had never experienced before. After only a week, he was finished with
the beginner’s book and ready to move on to the others.

“You’re going to catch up to me,” Nera commented
playfully. Most days she took little interest in his studying. She simply sat
upon her bed, strumming her lute while he read and practiced. Today, she seemed
eager for him to demonstrate what he’d learned.

“I doubt that,” Kwil replied, looking at the
books. “I have a long way to go.”

“But you catch on quickly,” she said. “If you
could read the runic symbols, I bet you’d learn twice as fast.”

“Can you teach me?” Kwil asked eagerly.

Nera shook her head. “I don’t know it, but I’m
supposed to learn this year at the College.”

Kwil’s heart nearly stopped. She was only on break
from her studies, and she would have to return in another week. She’d take her
books with her, and he would be left with no way to continue learning.

Not noticing the slave’s worried expression, Nera
said, “Maybe you could come to school with me.”

Stunned, Kwil stared up at her, wondering how such
a thing was possible.

“Not as a student,” she explained. “Second year
students are allowed private chambers, and many of them bring a slave to serve
them while they study. It frees up time to concentrate on studying—or playing
the lute.” The last bit she added with a grin.

“I would love that,” Kwil replied.

“I’ll have to ask my parents,” she said. “But I
think I can convince them to let me take you.”

As she spoke, her eyes glanced over at the
fireplace, where the fire had dimmed and was nearly out. She started to get up,
but Kwil beat her to it. He leapt to his feet, hurrying to tend the dying
embers.

“Forgive me,” he said. Neglecting his duties was
unacceptable, especially when it came to Nera. He owed her everything, and he
felt pangs of guilt at allowing her room to grow cold.

Nera looked thoughtfully at the slave. “You know,
the attitude toward slavery is changing in Gi’gata.”

A bright fire roared to life before Kwil turned to
face her. He wrinkled his brow, puzzled as to what she was talking about.

“News rarely reaches these sleepy country manors,”
she continued. “But in the city, many Gatans are no longer comfortable owning
other living beings. It’s an archaic and barbaric practice.”

Kwil couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “If we
don’t work for them, what do we do?” he wondered.

“Well, I’ve heard that many are sent back to their
original homelands,” she replied.

“Many slaves are born here,” he stated. “I was.”

Nera paused a moment, not sure how to reply. Sure
he had an ancestral home, but he had never been there. Would it be right to
free a slave and send him back to a land he’d scarcely even heard of? What
would happen if freed slaves chose to stay? How would her people treat them?
“Maybe those who don’t wish to leave could be given jobs,” she said.

“I already have a job,” Kwil replied. The thought
of being turned loose scared him. He had nothing—no money, no home, and no
family. Should all slaves suddenly be set free, he would be doomed. Freedom
didn’t mean equality. Studying at the College would still be out of the
question.

With a sigh, Nera said, “Look, I don’t have all
the answers. I only mentioned it because I thought you might like to know. Your
future might be something better than serving my family.” She managed a sweet
smile, hoping she hadn’t made him too uncomfortable. “Come on,” she said. “I’ll
help you with your studies.”

With a nod, Kwil returned to the books and flipped
to the next lesson. Nera set her lute aside and watched with interest as Kwil
manipulated the fire in the hearth.

“You didn’t need to get up to tend that,” she said
with a laugh.

Kwil shrugged, his face slightly bewildered. “I
didn’t realize I could do that,” he replied.

“How did you develop an interest in magic anyway?”
Nera wondered.

“Since I was very small, I’ve been able to move
things,” he said. “And I can create colors in the air,” he added, wishing he
hadn’t mentioned it. It was an unpractical and frivolous use of magic, but he
enjoyed it.

“Show me,” she said.

Focusing on the air in front of him, he waved his
fingers in a delicate pattern. A shimmering butterfly of pink, yellow, and blue
appeared before him. It flapped its wings, floating softly to sit upon Nera’s
knee. She looked up at the young man, her eyes bright.

“It’s beautiful,” she said.

As Kwil looked at the ground, the butterfly
dissolved into a puddle of colors. “It’s silly,” he replied, shaking his head.
“But it was the first bit of magic I managed to control,” he explained. “And
it’s fun.”

“That’s because you created it,” she replied. “You
didn’t just move it around, you conjured it from nothing.” Picking up her lute,
she added, “That’s just how it is when you create music.” She plucked at the
strings and hummed a merry tune. Looking up, she said, “There’s more to life
than what you can learn in books.”

Though her statement was true, Kwil saw no other
way to learn the basics than through study. “Music requires study too, doesn’t
it?”

“Yes it does,” she replied. “And lots of practice.
No different from magic, really.”

As she continued to play her music, Kwil turned
back to the book and practiced a few more spells. The hand gestures were
becoming more difficult, requiring more-delicate movements in time with the
incantation. Growing frustrated, he wondered if he would ever get the hang of
it.

Noticing his difficulty, Nera took a seat on the
floor next to him. “Like this,” she said, taking a hold of his hand. His skin
was the roughest she had ever felt, and a glance at his fingertips revealed
reddened blisters and cuts. “What happened?” she asked, not seeing the obvious
answer.

Kwil looked at his fingers, unsure what she meant.
“What happened to what?” he asked.

“Your fingers,” she replied. “They’re so sore.
Doesn’t that hurt?”

With a shrug, he said, “I’m used to it. It’s no
different from a farmer who works with his hands.”

“Farmers can afford gloves,” she said quietly. A
wave of guilt came over her, knowing that she was a part of this young man’s
suffering. Despite her current friendship with Kwil, she had been content to
order around servants and slaves all her life. Something had to change. “From
now on, I’ll clean my own room while you study,” she declared.

“Nera, it’s my job,” Kwil replied. “I don’t mind.”

“I’ve made up my mind,” she stated. “Now let’s see
if we can get this right.”

As she assisted him in performing the gestures
correctly, the clock on her mantle chimed.

“I’d better go,” Kwil said. “I’m supposed to help
in the kitchen tonight. You have guests coming.”

Nera rolled her eyes. A fancy dinner with her
parents was an inconvenience she could do without. But if she tried to stay in
her room when guests were present, her father would likely drag her down the
stairs. “I guess I’ll see you there then,” she said.

* * * * *

Taking inventory of the
rows of decadent foods in front of him, Kwil counted no fewer than seven
courses. The Orvas’ dinner guests would no doubt be delighted by the variety
and quality of foods. Jenn had generously allowed Kwil to sample a few, many of
them being far too rich for his stomach. A small taste was all he required to
know the foods certainly weren’t for him. A lifetime of a bland diet had not
prepared him for the sweetness of chocolate or the texture of goose liver.

Making sure that each dish was covered, Kwil lit
candles under the ones that needed to stay warm, and fanned the ones that
needed to stay cool. It was not the most stimulating job in the kitchen, but it
was better than scrubbing floors. Besides, he looked forward to seeing the
night’s entertainment. This would be the first dinner party he had witnessed
since coming to work for the Orvas, and he wasn’t sure what to expect. All he
knew was, the more lavish the dinner party, the more respected the host.

Jenn floated by him, a twinkle in her aging eyes.
Though she had lived her entire life a slave, her spirits were undaunted.
Dinner parties were her specialty—a chance to show what she was capable of.
Kwil couldn’t help but smile as he watched the old lady darting to and fro with
surprising grace and agility.

Behind him the young laundress approached,
clearing her throat loudly to get his attention. Kwil startled at the sound,
turning around quickly to see who was there. It was the same young Gatan he had
met before, and he felt ashamed that he had not asked her name.

Thrusting a bundle of clothing toward him, she
said, “These are for you.”

Taking the green and yellow tunic from her, his
brow furrowed in confusion. “For me?”

The Gatan crossed her arms and sighed in
frustration. “You don’t think they’d want you in front of their guests dressed
like that do you?” Shaking her head, she walked away, leaving Kwil behind to
ponder her meaning.

He looked down at the shabby clothing he wore
every day, the elbows of his shirt nearly threadbare. Though he washed the
garments as often as he could, he supposed they could be cleaner.

Jenn crept up behind him and patted him on the
back. “In there, Son,” she said, pointing to the cupboard.

With a nod of thanks, Kwil stepped inside and
quickly changed into the fancy clothing he had received. The pants were
slightly loose, obviously designed for a larger man, and the velveteen tunic
with its gold trim felt scratchy against his skin. Plain cotton suited him far
better, but he had no room to argue. These clothes meant he would be serving in
the dining hall, not waiting in the kitchens to fetch supplies. He had
anticipated a night of straining to see the entertainment, catching glances
whenever he could. Instead, he would be up front, viewing firsthand whatever
the Orvas had planned. The thought sent his heart racing.

When he exited the pantry, Jenn was waiting for
him. She reached up and patted his cheek before smoothing out his tunic.
“That’s better,” she said, her eyes shining brightly. “You have fun out there,
but don’t let them know it.” A soft laugh followed as she turned around to tend
the confections, stacking them neatly on a silver tray.

Voices sounded from the hall, signaling the
servants that the guests had arrived. A passing Gatan shoved a pitcher of wine
at Kwil, which he took gladly. Filling wine goblets was a simple enough task,
and it would allow him to move freely about the room and observe the night’s
events. After a wink from Jenn, Kwil headed into the dining area, where the
guests where laughing and talking. Another servant carried empty goblets on a
silver tray, and Kwil decided to follow him, filling the cups as he went. Each
guest accepted his drink graciously, not paying much attention to who was doing
the pouring. As long as their goblets remained full, they were pleased.

Nera made an entrance wearing a long satin gown.
She looked out of sorts, tugging at the tight bodice and grimacing in her
mother’s direction. Kwil felt pity for his friend, seeing how much she detested
the fancy garment. During their days of study together, he had never seen her
wear anything other than pants. For a noble lady, she lacked severely in
refinement and poise. She was truly her own person, and she wouldn’t be
dictated by the mores of the day.

Kwil hazarded a glance in her direction, noticing
that she did not have a cup. Grabbing one off the dining table, he hastened to
her side, filling the glass and offering it to her. At first glance, she seemed
annoyed, but realizing it was Kwil standing before her, her face broke into a
smile. Clearly he wasn’t the only one surprised to see a friend all dressed up.
She said nothing, but her eyes sparkled with silent laughter. Kwil blushed
slightly before moving away to tend the other guests.

As the night went on, the guests became louder and
seemed to find the humor in every little story that was told. Their glasses ran
over, thanks to Kwil keeping a close eye to make sure no one was thirsty.

Finally, Lord Orva stood, banging his fork against
his goblet. “Bring on the entertainment!” he declared, to the delight of his
guests.

Applause broke out, many of the guests jumping to
their feet. Being shorter than most of the Gatans, Kwil angled his neck to get
a better view. A spectacular display of magic shot toward the ceiling. Colors
and shapes flew around the room, including a multitude of butterflies. Nera
shot a glance in Kwil’s direction as the butterflies darted past her.

Following the display, a troupe of dancers entered
the room. Their feline bodies were painted a multitude of colors, some Kwil had
never seen before. The cost of such dyes must have been astronomical, but the
Orvas would spare no expense to impress their friends. The men and women danced
gracefully, tossing each other into the air and performing tricks on the fly.
Kwil watched in amazement, nearly forgetting his duties as wine bearer. It was
of little consequence, though, as the guests could hardly look away either.
Such a display of acrobatics was captivating, and the crowd fell silent enough
to hear the tiniest squeak of a mouse.

When the dancers finished, a second round of
colorful magic lit up the dining hall. The crowd broke into applause and
whistled their approval at the performers. Kwil stared in amazement, his mind
full of wonder. Only the drumming of a hand against the table snapped him back
to reality. One of the guests held out an empty goblet.