* * * * *

Rowan was distracted at her work all morning and afternoon. It was a terrible feeling: not knowing when she would be sent for. Her work in the field was dull and tedious as she waited, paranoid. The calm before the storm; the worst part of the ordeal. During the storm, you were busy buckling the hatches down to survive, and afterwards you were busy fixing things, but all you could do beforehand and stand idly around, waiting for the inevitable.

Kai quickly caught her anxious demeanor and, early in the morning, inquired, "What are you worried about?"

"Huh?"

"You. You're not obnoxiously reckless today," he teased. She offered the best smile she could and shrugged.

"Nothing's up. I'm fine."

"What did Warian say yesterday?"

"Huh?"

"You aren't even listening to me! I asked what Warian told you yesterday," he repeated, feeling his adrenaline start pumping. If carefree Rowan was worried about something...

"Oh, nothing important. Just stuff."

"What kind of stuff?" Rowan shrugged again, so Kai grabbed her arm and demanded, "What did he say? What are you worried about?"

She tried to relax a little --mislead him with a calmer manner-- and assured him, "It's nothing you need to hyperventilate about. I'm just doing a favor for him later today."

"A favor."

"Yes. He's got some friends coming over and I'm going to dress up and pretend like I'm his wife. That's it. I just don't know when I'm going to be called and it's sort of got me on edge."

"That's it?" At Rowan's nod, he laughed, "Thank goodness! You really had me worried something terrible was happening. You just have to dress up and play pretend, though? That's nothing; you're an okay liar, I'd think."

"Gee, thanks."

He laughed again, "You know what I mean. You'll be fine." Though he didn't really know the whole story and so couldn't really divine the outcome of the evening, Rowan felt relatively comforted by his assurance. He was right: things would go fine at this dinner, then she'd be released and allowed to go back to the barracks. What was the worst that could happen? Well... Rowan shook her head and got back to work.

The rest of the day about drove Rowan crazy. Waiting, waiting, waiting. It was torture for a person of action like her. Finally, though, only a short time before supper, a maid made an appearance out in the fields to retrieve her.

"Good luck," Kai offered, waving at Rowan as she walked off behind the maid. Rowan nodded and waved back.

The maid she followed through the fields, down the dirt road, and across the yard to the main house was a scrawny whisp of a thing. Her hair was knotted into a tight bun on the top of her head, revealing a thin neck hidden under a high collar. The tight, gray woolen dress looked extremely uncomfortable and did not flatter the curveless figure. Her face was pleasant enough, though, and, as they walked, she proved herself one of the less snobby of the house servants.

"So you're serving Master Warian tonight?" she asked as they walked. Rowan didn't want to answer, but decidedly to be At least civil. A contact in the house might actually not be a bad thing.

"Yes. Blackmailing beast."

"I tend to agree," the maid admitted with a smile. "Not my favorite person I've ever worked for, but the pay's relatively good, and the job's sure not boring." Rowan nodded encouragingly, hoping the maid would expound. To her favor, she did. "Master Warian was almost apocalyptic two days ago."

"What for?"

"Well, first Miss Tamar cracked--"

"Who's Miss Tamar?" Rowan interrupted.

The maid gave her an odd look and answered, "You don't know who Miss Tamar is?" Rowan shook her head. "No, I suppose not. I thought you would, since you've been in and out of the house so much lately. She's his mistress."

"His what? You mean he has a mistress? Then what's he got me playing one for?"

"Had. She's not good for much anymore. Something happened three days ago and she snapped, just lost it."

"You mean she went crazy?"

"Yes, I mean that. I was helping her dress and she just threw herself onto the floor and went into convulsions! I tried to calm her down but she started screaming and kicking trying to bite me. Warian had her locked in her room and the windows boarded, but she somehow got out again day before yesterday, right before the Royal Bureau got here. He was fighting to get her back under control when they just showed up without warning. He was very stressed out, and then with all these rebellions."

"What rebellions?"

"Oh, not here, to be sure. No, you're the most trouble on this plantation --you're quite discussed in the house."

"A regular celebrity, eh?"

"Quite. But there are riots springing up on other plantations, which is why all these men are coming tonight, to discuss what to do about it. Several members of the Royal Bureau are coming, as well," the maid explained. It took only a second for Rowan to make the connection.

"Which explains why he wants me to play mistress. His usual one is psycho, so she's out, so he needs a new one anyway. And now these men are coming over to talk about how to put down rebellions --what better way to look in control then showing off as your mistress the slave that rebelled against your authority two days before?"

"You must be right. I hadn't thought about that before, but you must be right." They'd reached the house and fell silent as the maid led Rowan through a side door. Several other house servants were standing around and glared furiously at the slave girl daring to enter their domain. Rowan waved cheerfully at them and continued on her path.

The maid continued through several long hallways, then up a flight of stairs to a the second story, a part of the house Rowan had never been in before. She looked around curiously as they walked, impressed by the grandness of it all. The ceilings were all vaulted, just like downstairs, but he'd put obvious more effort into this portion of the house, since it provided the gusts rooms and such.

They went a good ways down the hall, then up another short flight of stairs which brought them to a single door. The maid strutted through the door and Rowan followed, looking around. There was a large canopy bed of dark mahogany, a recurring theme in all the furniture, as well as the dark red drapes and blankets. She supposed it was meant to be a very sensual room, but it just, to her, begged the nickname "Blood Room."

As she surveyed the room, paying no heed to the maid bustling around, a sound caught her attention. A door in the right wall, closed and locked, sealed off the entrance to a room in which something wild was obviously kept prisoner. She could hear fervent pacing inside, and banging against the walls, and snarling. Every couple minutes, a piece of furniture would topple over and something heavy would slam against the door.

The maid saw her watching the door nervously and said simply, "Mistress Tamar."

"Ah. And I suppose that door is very strong?"

"Thus far." The maid closed the door leading to the hall and then opened a dresser. Inside were various dresses and nightgowns, as well as a couple outfits for Warian. Rowan shuddered.

Looking for a way to maybe drown out the ranting of the crazed woman next-door, she asked, "How many men will be here tonight, do you know?"

"Eleven."

"Great."

The maid pulled a dress from dresser and laid it out on the bed. Rowan looked at it uncertainly and reached a tentative hand out to brush at the silky fabric. It would definitely be the richest dress she'd ever worn.

"All right, off with this old frock," the maid ordered, tugging at the skirt of Rowan's work dress. "I've already filled a bath over there." Rowan followed her pointed finger to a screen blocking off a corner of the room. "You get in there and give yourself a good scrub and I'll be back up momentarily with some underthings for you." She was gone in a blink, leaving Rowan to do as ordered.

The bath felt wonderful, though a little painful on her back, and the soap was a lovely touch. Not too much soap in the slave world, except for lye soap which did nothing save burn the top layer of skin off to clean you. This type of cleanliness was such a lovely feeling that Rowan was even able to ignore the crazy woman's screams. Sort of.

By the time the maid came back, Rowan was drying herself off, feeling cleaner than she ever remembered before.

Seeing her back, raw and a little bloody from the shock of soap, the maid gasped, "What happened to your--"

"The price of a moment of freedom," Rowan answered quickly. "For their work, servants get wages, slaves get welts."

The maid said nothing to this, just glanced with horror at the wounds and handed her a fresh shift and turned to fiddle with the dress and give her a second of privacy. Once it was one, she surveyed Rowan.

"Well, you don't need a push-up, that's for sure."

"What's that suppose to mean?" Rowan asked with indignation

The maid laughed but didn't answer. Instead she picked up the stay (known in some places as a corset) and wrapped it around Rowan's torso. Pushing her to make her turn around, she then laced up the back. It was sturdier than the one Rowan was use to wearing and she appreciated the snug fit. In some weird psychological sense, it made her feel safer. Next the maid picked a thin but sturdy piece of wood perhaps a foot in length up.

"What's that?" Rowan asked, not recognizing what exactly its purpose was.

"A busk. It ensures good posture," she explained. Without waiting for anything further, she leaned forward and shoved it down the front of Rowan's stay in a pocket in the fabric. It resulted in, like she'd said, a straight back as Rowan could no longer hunch over, nor bend her back at all. The last underpiece was a simple waist petticoat, which was easy enough.

Rowan looked at herself in the full-length mirror situated beside the screen and laughed, "I don't think I've ever been this dressed up without even being dressed. This corset it nicer than all the clothes I've ever worn put together."

"I'd believe it," the maid replied, then, realizing that sound rude, added, "I mean that it's very expensive underthings. Master Warian got it made just for you."

"No doubt," she rolled her eyes. Probably fancies examining the underthings himself. Putting the dress on over was easy enough and, after some lacing in the back, rowan was dressed. She once again glanced at herself in the mirror and marveled at the dress. A little too wedding gown-looking, maybe, but beautiful all the same with a high waist, split-layered skirt, and tight sleeves that puffed out in gold silk at the top, elbow, and wrist. The off-the-shoulder style was quite flattering. Maybe a little too flattering.

"I think I'll fall right out of this dress," she worried to the maid. The latter looked her up and down and disagreed.

"You should be fine --that stay will help stay."

"That was clever."

The maid grinned, "Thank you. You should be fine. Master Warian will be pleased." Holding Rowan's arms, she guided her over to the vanity and pushed her down onto the bench. "Hold still, now, while I style your hair." Rowan obeyed.

As the maid worked, tugging painfully at knots in hair that was rarely brushed, she chattered, "Master Warian asked me to pass a couple tips onto you about proper etiquette."

"Oh?"

"When you're at the table, napkin goes in your lap, elbows stay at your side, fork goes in your left hand, knife in your right. Hold your wine glass by the cup, not the neck. Do not speak unless someone asks you to."

"Well there goes all my enjoyment of the evening."

The maid laughed, "Yes, I suppose. Master Warian would also beg you to keep strong opinions to yourself tonight."

"Ugh. This is going to be one giant bore."

"Well At least you'll enjoy the food." Rowan hadn't thought about that. The maid continued, "After dinner, you'll all go to the parlor where they'll talk and perhaps play cards. You're to sit there silently and do as Master Warian commands."

"Oh, joy."

"Mind you keep comments like that to yourself. Other than that, you're to keep silent, agree with everything Master Warian says and behave," the maid finished up.

"And if I don't?"

"Just do. My name's Norna, so tell a servant to fetch me if you need anything. I'll most likely be around a lot, keeping an eye on you."

"Keeping an eye on me? You have nothing better to do?"

Norna shook her head, "That's what I'm hired to do. I'm a ladies maid."

"So I'm a lady tonight. Well this is a change of pace."

Norna finished up with her hair, styling it into an intricate mess of curls and braids on the top of her head. She wove a couple beads in for good measure.

"Well, it shows off your ears, but I suppose it will have to do."

"And what's wrong with my ears?"

"Nothing at all, Miss Rowan."

"Miss Rowan. That sounds extremely odd? I'm not sure I like it so much."

"Well you'd best get used to it, At least for tonight. Now, a jewel to finish it off," she clasped a double strand of pearls around Rowan's neck, "and you are finished. Wait up here until I call for you. There are shoes in the bottom of the dresser; I assume you can find a fair that fit." These last instructions given, Norna rose and flitted out of the room, closing the door behind herself.

Rowan was left in that room for quite some time --a good two hours At least, so that the sun had gone down. She'd watched is as one way of amusing herself, sitting at the window and looking down at the slaves rushing around below. How badly she wanted to be the real mistress of this house (though not by Warian's side) and free them all. She'd explored the room for a while but found nothing to interest her.

Then there was the raving lunatic next door that she'd conversed with for a moment's time. Tamar had asked who was in the room, so Rowan had answered. She'd then asked of Rowan would kindly let her out of her room (the key was hanging by the door separating them) to which Rowan had apologized, said she couldn't at the moment, but maybe after dinner. Tamar had given a high-pitched shriek, then went back to pacing the room.

Finally, Norna returned and announced that the guests were almost arrived and she was asked for at the door. Stepping into the slippers (which felt as though it would fall off at any moment), she followed Norna out of the room, down all the stairs and halls, then straight through the house to the front door. Warian was standing there, dressed to the nines and very serious looking.

"Ah, my pretty one, you've come. Perfect timing," he greeted, eyeing her figure. She shifted uneasily, moreso when he reached out and bodily pulled her closer to him. She didn't say anything.

Within minutes Warian's friends showed up and, after shaking hands with them, he introduced Rowan to them. Three Royal Bureau members and nine other prosperous plantation owners such as himself, though not quite as wealthy. They seemed pleased with her appearance (enter mental eye-rolling here), made several comments pertaining, and then followed Warian into the dining room. He grabbed Rowan and pulled her close to his side as they walked.

The dining room was all decked out in splendor --silver and gold, flowers, silk napkins, the finest glass plates. There was quite a feast laid out on the table: a roasted bird, dishes heaped with boiled vegetables stuffing. A giant bowl of salad complete with chopped nuts and small citrus fruit. Even sautéed apples stuffed with cinnamon-sugar and raisins. Servers stood around with pitchers of wine and boats of dressings and sauces.

Warian guided Rowan to the chair on his right hand where a servant pulled it up, shooting her a glare as he did so. No doubt the servants were angry about this! A slave-girl, after all, rising above them! The horror of it all!

Conversation was light at first as servants carried the food around and served (thus gaining there title, Rowan supposed). It was a completely altering experience: being required to be lazy. She couldn't do anything for herself!

Warian was obviously nervous she was going to do something stupid and, before a word had been spoken, leaned over her and whispered, "Watch yourself, my pretty one. Remember what leverage I hold. That dear little slave-boy of yours." She gave a small nod and avoided eye-contact with him, disgusted by the feel of his humid breath on her neck.

She spread her napkin over he lap like Norna had instructed (whom was currently across the room, standing in the doorway, watching). When taking a drink from the wine glass one of the servants filled, she held it by the cup --though this was rare, as she'd rather not grow inebriated and give Warian more power over her than he already had.

Conversation was light at first as the men all caught up on goings-on since their last meetings. The meetings with the Etrienans that the Royal Bureau members were currently undergoing was discussed, as was one Lord Rochnen's advances in farm equipment, and another Lord Dinalla's new source of slaves. Breeding.

"I've discovered that if you take two of your slaves of opposite gender, force-mate them, you end up with an off-spring that would not have existed without your intervention. It's a little mucky at first, but once you get into a system and your slaves know what to expect, it becomes less troublesome," Lord Dinalla explained between mouthfuls of food. He waved his fork around in the air as he talked and spit a piece of broccoli onto the white table-cloth. Rowan shuddered. "Despite the nine-month gestation period, which is a downside, as well, I've added thirty-two slaves in approximately two and a half years at absolutely no cost to my penny-purse."

"Yes, but how can you force them? I would think you'd meet with resistance," Lord Danks commented.

Lord Dinalla shook his head, "At first, yes. But there are ways of getting slaves to succumb."

"Such as?" Lord Sharpner inquired.

"Let us pose that question to Sir Warian over here," Lord Conick suggested, pointing to the man he spoke of. Lord Conick was a member of the Royal Bureau from the third largest province in Alrianto. "Tell us, Warian, how you took this girl that sits across from me now and transformed her?"

Lord Thorof spoke up, "I, surely, don't know what you talk about. Mistress Rowan seems a perfect lady to me."

"She's hardly a lady," Lord Gagren chortled, waving his hand in the air in amusement. Looking to lord Conick for confirmation, "Why, we saw her the other day when we visited and she was far removed from the mouse you see sitting before you now."

"She's a slave-girl, you know. Less a lady than even I," Lord Conick added. This brought laughter.

Lord Gagren continued, "Not just any slave: a highly disobedient one. Am I right, Warian?"

"Quite," was all Warian said.

"Disobeying orders, talking back, doing work other than that assigned to her, taking a tone of equality --it was the most baffling of sights I've ever seen. I was shocked when he gave her nothing more than thirteen lashes. I would have slit her throat on the spot," Lord Conick added.

Rowan shifted uncomfortably in her chair, not too fond of the conversation centered on her. It wasn't them discussing her rebellious nature that disturbed her but rather the fact that they now saw her sitting calmly before them, manners and all. They obviously guessed Warian had tamed her (which he, in a way, had) which rubbed her pride the wrong way and made a seemingly better man out of Warian. It rested unwell with her for people to think her a better-natured person than she was; her fiery spirit was actually a source of pride for her.

"Yet you obviously have done something right," Lord Bonoll offered.

Lord Ucinon agreed, "Yes. I never would have guessed she was something to wicked as a rebellious slave."

"She cleans up well," Hapnear joked.

Lord Berica, curious to know the method, urged, "Enlighten me, Warian. Share with us what trick you used to trade a toad for this dive. Why, look how quietly she sits there as we dissect her. Would we all could perform such magic!"

Warian chuckled and winked at Rowan, "It's hardly magic, gentlemen. I just made a startling discovery." The entire room held their breath for the insight. "Did you know that slaves may form bonds? Of the heart, I mean." There were sounds of disbelief and disapproval all round the table at the idea that had apparently never occurred to them. Rowan felt herself suffocating, unable to breathe in a room so stuffed with stupidity.

"Surely, Warian, you are not giving human emotions to slaves," Lord Sharpner demanded, saying the word with such seeping disgust that it sounded repulsive even to Rowan.

"Ah, yes. It appears that even vile slaves have a modicum of civilization in them and may, at times, form attachments to objects, events, or other people," Warian explained, obviously proud to have such a group of active listeners. "I merely found these attachments out and used them as a form of, how would you call it, leverage."

Rowan took a drink to keep from coughing or, worse, spewing her dinner all over the white tablecloth.

"You blackmailed her? With what?" Lord Thorof asked.

"The life of a slave boy she's come to value."

"Why, I never would have thought it would work. To think that she would sit there so peacefully, submit to your rule, merely to save a slave-boy's life. I can hardly say I'd do the same," Lord Danks admitted.

Rowan mumbled under her breath, "And that, sir, is the difference between you and I." She picked at her napkin, tugging at a loose thread, working exhaustingly hard to keep the scowl off her face.

Beside her, Lord Hapnear questioned, "What was that, Mistress Rowan?" The entire table fell silent to hear what this dirty slave had said. She could see Warian tensing up beside her, envision in her mind the death of Kai. This was a making of breaking point.

"I said," she answered, making her voice sound as light and sweet as possible, "that everyone has a weakness and to control them you need only to find it."

"Intelligent words!" Lord Dinalla cried, gasping at his chest in jest. "How great a transition she made from slave to lady!"

"And your weakness is a fondness for a slave-boy?" Lord Ucinon encouraged.

Rowan nodded, "Yes, sir."

"I agree," Lord Danks spoke out. "I think that anything that ties you down, anything that inhibits your freedom, is the worst of weakness. This emotion --love-- does nothing except give your enemies a way to destroy you from the inside out. Bah, a needless waste of thought, I say!"

Lord Bonoll laughed, "Aye, hear, hear! I couldn't agree more with you, good man. Down with love!"

"That's why mistresses are nice. You play with them and, when they cease to amuse you, you dispense with them," Lord Rochnen added.

"I noticed you've switched mistresses, Warian. What was the last one's name: Tamar? I guess she ceased to please you, eh?"

Rowan watched Warian's face as this claim was made. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and cleared his throat, then took a drink and smacked his lips. He seemed disturbed by the suggestion. That's when the realization dawned on her: there was a reason he hadn't just gotten rid of Tamar when she went psycho. There was a reason she was still in this house, still being cared for. In the hopes that she would better! Warian was in love with Tamar!

She'd hardly thought the monster was capable of such an emotion and much less of doting on even her sick and broken mind as he still did. How was it that a creature capable of trickery and deceit and torture could turn around and sacrifice his heart (whatever pitiful black remnants there were) to a lady that Norna sounded none too dissatisfied with. It was hardly conceivable.

Nobody at the table noticed the unease with Warian and his answer was lost as Lord Conick grinned evilly at Rowan, "I've no doubt you're a pleasant little mistress, eh?" Fortunately Rowan was saved from answering. Lord Thorof, directly across from her, accidentally knocked a glass of wine over on the white table cloth. The room became an immediate flurry of commotion as servants rushed to move plates out of the wave and clean the mess up. Lord Thorof shoved his chair backwards and knocked one male servant over, who yelled a loud curse and was chided.

"Such a clumsy oaf," Lord Berica laughed.

From several comments made, Rowan gathered that he was younger --not that she couldn't have guessed it by appearance-- than the others by some margin. He'd successfully changed the topic of discussion, of which Rowan was grateful beyond belief and vocalized this with a deep sigh. Nobody paid any heed to her, save that when she looked across the table at the Lord Thorof, he nodded his head at her before continuing in discussion with the other men.

After supper had been eaten and dishes were cleared away, the party moved into the parlor, just as Norna had said. The lady's maid sought out Rowan as the transition was being made and saddled up beside her.

"Are you doing all right?" she inquired.

Rowan nodded, "Yes."

"Just keep going like you are. You're doing better than I ever could in such a situation. If those men had been talking about me like they were about you...I would have burst into tears, no doubt," Norna laughed lightly. "Uh well. It's good that you're stronger than me. Now continue to behave and do just as Master Warian says. You'll be fine." After that, she turn and trotted off to hang around at the edges of the room again.

Rowan wasn't sure where to go as the men took their seats on couches and comfy chairs around a low table. A couple were branching off to gather around a card table for some type of game. A fire had been struck up in the hearth, though it was a warm night outside --supposedly for effect. Rowan was just thinking of taking a seat by the window (she couldn't even indulge in a book as slaves were forbidden to read and it was a deep secret that she could) when Warian caught her eye. He motioned her over and she complied, then tried to hide the surprise from her face as he yanked her down to sit on his lap.

He whispered into her ear, "Work with me here or your boy gets it." He kissed her temple and nuzzled her neck and she did not retaliate, numbing herself to his touch. He adjusted to sit more comfortably, then she pulled herself completely up on his lap, allowing her feet to dangle over the arm of the chair. The side of the chair proved some support, though her dug painfully into her back.

Lord Thorof pulled up a chair to the right of Warian's chair so that he was sitting near Rowan, while Lord Conick chose the seat nearest Warian on the couch. Several conversations broke out among various members of this circle while loud laughter sounded from the card-players across the room.

Warian was engaged in a conversation with Conick and others, brushing his fingers along her stomach and holding her hand in his own. The touch sent shivers up her spine --definitely not of pleasure. It was almost more than she could bare, but bare it she must, for Kai's sake.

"Mistress Rowan." Rowan startled at her name and shifted slightly to better see Lord Thorof.

"Yes, milord?" The words of respect sounded distasteful in her mouth to a person so little deserving of them. A slave lord!

"How long have you been on this plantation?" he asked. At her odd look, he shrugged, "Just making conversation."

"Since June."

"Oh. So not very long. Where were you before this?"

"Another plantation. And before that another and another."

He raised an eyebrow and commented, "You switch plantations rather frequently, then. Even just three times is three more than most. What has happened to these other plantations?"

"They've been broken up and sold or destroyed."

"Ah. Your work?" Rowan looked hard at him. Just what was he getting at? Trying to get her to admit that she was a rebellious slave. No problem: she'd admit that in a minute. She was proud of her sense of justice. She gave a slight nod. After a minute, he remarked, "You remind me."

"Of?" Rowan encouraged when he didn't continue.

"I'm not sure. There's something altogether familiar about you, though. We've never met, I assume?"

"You'd remember me better if we had."

Lord Thorof laughed at this and assured her, "I've no doubt I would!" Warian looked over at the commotion but saw that Lord Thorof was not offended by anything and so went back to his conversation. Once sure that their conversation was no longer being paid attention to, Lord Thorof continued, "I couldn't help but feel you weren't comfortable with the conversation at dinner."

"And you blame me for this? Were you being discussed as nothing more than a piece of property, a senseless, mindless, emotionless object, would you not be discontent?" Her face scrunched up into a passionate scowl and she knew she was pushing her luck, so she lowered her voice and whispered, "If your life was valued at nothing, you a mere plaything for the vilest of beasts, how would you be?"

Warian moved and she wrapped an arm around his neck without even thinking about it to quiet him. He smiled at the gesture and kissed her cheek, pulling her closer to him, though she twisted so that she was completely facing Lord Thorof. She fell silent during this, realizing what she'd just done. In a moment of passion --a spontaneous action unlike the normal carefully-calculate movements-- she'd just forfeited Kai's life. Lord Thorof would jump up and proclaim Warian's deceit, then that obnoxious little blonde boy outside would be murdered.

Her mind was reeling with things to do: send Kai away (to where?), escape, kill, etc., but before she could advance too far in though, she noticed Lord Thorof's shoulders shaking. On closer study, he proved to be laughing!

"Why, Warian's tamed you no more than the wind, I gather. I see a fault in his method, as well as those of the others."

"And this would be?" Rowan asked. She said nothing on her state of tameness.

Lord Thorof shrugged, "The tighter you close your fingers around a throat, the more your victim struggles."

"Until you steal their air completely and they lay lifeless in your hands."

"But those moments of struggle are enough for the strong to free themselves," he finished, continuing their metaphor.

"Few are strong enough, though, and, of the few, many are out of breath before it even begins," Rowan added. Another quick study of his face brought the comment, "You speak rather freely of rebellions, sir, and without the usual distaste. And you refer to slaves as the victims and their masters the villain?"

His nonchalant demeanor continued with another shrug, "Just a topic I supposed you'd be comfortable with."

"You assume, then, that my mind is base enough to entertain no thought but that of conflict?" Rowan retorted. His smile grated on her nerves and she'd rather change the conversation to something that wasn't so near the line --Kai's lifeline, that is.

"Matters of peace then? Politics? How about scholarly endeavors: have you read any good books lately?"

"Now you're just being rude!"

"Yes, I suppose I am," he admitted. Looking at her with a serious face, he apologized, "I'm sorry. Forgive me, Mistress Rowan. Tell me what you'd rather discuss."

"I'd rather not discuss at all and just sit here quietly. Leave you to your thoughts and me to mine."

Lord Thorof shook his head, "I'm afraid that's not a choice. I am a guest here tonight and you, as the hostess, are meant to entertain."

"Then what would you have me do? Tear my hair out and run around the room screaming for good humour? Stand with an apple on my head for target practice? Get down on my hands and knees and worship everything you say?" Rowan returned, putting on the sappiest, most innocent face she owned.

"The last would be nice, but I'll suffice for you to sit here and talk to me with that face." She quit the mocking and glared at him. "Touché!" Warian shifted again (it must be uncomfortable for him to have her sitting on his lap like so; it sure was for her!) and Rowan couldn't help make a face as her kissed the back of her neck in doing so. Lord Thorof didn't comment on this, already convinced the whole 'sweet submissive mistress' was a hoax.

"Well, sir--"

"Say my name," he interrupted.

She raised an eyebrow at him but began again, "Well, Lord Thorof, if you are convinced I am the one to provide you with conversation, you, as the guest, should instigate the topic. I would hope, though, it is something appropriate."

"Deserving of a lady's thoughts, you mean." She caught herself before rolling her eyes. "All right, tell me about your slave boy." Rowan was surprised by the question --what did he care? Either way, though, it was a safe topic, one not concerned with rebellions.

"My slave boy has a name, you know. Most slaves do, other than their numbers."

"Numbers?" Lord Thorof repeated, looking thoroughly confused.

Rowan nodded, "You know, those things tattooed into our skin used to identify us. A string of digits..."

"Oh, id numbers." Lord Thorof waved his hand in the air in dismissal, "Stupid things, I think. You use them here?"

"Of course. I've never heard of a plantation that doesn't; it's how you're identified."

"What's your number?"

"16384."

"Oh, well, I think they're a waste. It's easier to remember names than numbers." Rowan couldn't help but smile a little: if he was telling the truth and he seriously didn't use slave numbers but rather actual names, it was a very noble --and rare-- characteristic among slave lords. "Anyway, this boy of yours?"

"His name is Kai. He's...twelve, maybe? Obnoxious little kid, but he sort of grows on you."

"He's twelve!" Lord Thorof repeated. At Rowan's odd look, he explained, "Here I was all excited at a possible love story and you've disappointed me."

Rowan laughed and shook her head, "You...no! There's hardly room for romance in the life of slaves. Life's pretty cut and dry for us."

"A rather pessimistic way of looking at things."

"Realistic, actually."

"Ah. Much different. So this Kai: is he your accomplice in your rebellious spurts? Was he, say, your helper in setting the grain house on fire a couple weeks ago or setting roaches loose in the kitchen?" Rowan's jaw hung open and Lord Thorof laughed. "I was talking to a couple of the maids before dinner. Seems you're infamous around here."

"I do what I can," Rowan shrugged, smiling despite herself. It was nice to hear her faults bragged about.

"Well I believe you've made an impression on the men here. Conick's half ignoring Warian to watch you, and Dinalla and Rochnen over there must be sorely losing their game thanks to their lack of concentration. You're not likely to be forgotten," he teased, nodding his head slightly at her watchers' directions. She didn't dare look at them and just took his word. Pervs. "But then, you're not one for romance, eh?"

Rowan made a face and answered, "No, I'm not. But, besides, those men have not half a brain between them and romance requires At least a fraction of common sense."

"Oh?"

"You, for instance, could be shunned by all yours peers for talking so frankly and freely with a slave girl. I'd watch myself were I you, Lord Thorof."

"Is that a threat?" he demanded, though his smile belied any seriousness. He chuckled. At Rowan's narrowed eyes, he held his hands up in defense and assured her, "I'm not laughing at you! I have no doubt you could castrate me if you had a mind to. You've no doubt done a nice job on Warian."

"There had to have been something there to begin with," she replied sarcastically. Lord Thorof threw his head back and burst out laughing at that, which drew the attention of Warian and others.

Pushing Rowan firmly so that she leaned back and he could see his guest, Warian asked, "What, Thorof, is amusing you so? Please, share."

"Only that Mistress Rowan here is such a pleasure to chat with," Lord Thorof answered. Rowan could feel Warian's arm tense around her as he asked what was meant by that. "She's such a doll; I fear I'll fall in love with her and be forced to steal her from under your nose."

"Yes, she's something, isn't she?" Warian commented, eyeing her warily. Running his fingers in a circle around her neck, he suggested, "Why don't you run over there to the cupboard and bring me a bottle of wine, my pretty one. I'm sure we could all use a drink."

Rowan did as he bid, happy to be off of his lap and away from the disgusting aura that seemed to pervade anything that came within a foot of him. Norna joined her at the cupboard and got the wine for her, since Rowan had no idea where it was. While thus engaged, she strategically leaned close to Rowan and motioned for her to listen.

"Yes?"

"That boy of yours, Kai. He said to pass a message along to you." She paused, then took Rowan's nod as a sign to continue, and relayed, "He said there are two men here to see you. Does that mean anything to you?"

"Not at all. Did he give names?"

"No. He just said they've come from Kirsoden and have urgent business to discuss with you. He said they've been waiting all evening and that it's very important."

Rowan thought for a moment, then shook her head, "I don't know who it could be. Who knows me to visit me?"

"As if I know...but I think you should go talk to them."

"What, right now?"

"Yes. They've been waiting a long time and if you don't go now you may not get another chance tonight."

Rowan looked at her suspiciously and inquired, "What do you care whether I see them or not?"

"I'm curious," Norna shrugged. Handing Rowan the bottle, she encouraged, "Go. Hand Warian the bottle and ask to freshen up."

"He won't let me go."

"He will. Here, I'll come." Norna followed her back across the room to Warian, carrying with her a tray of wine glasses. She set these down on the table, beside the bottle Rowan deposited. When Rowan didn't speak at first, she nudged her in the side.

"Sir? Milord?" Rowan asked his attention.

Warian looked up at her, "Yes, my pretty one?"

"May I go freshen up for a bit?" she asked sweetly.

Warian eyed her suspiciously, so Norna added, "There's something upstairs I could use her help with." His eyes jerked to the lady's maid at that. Norna nodded.

"Very well," he acquiesced quickly. Norna grabbed Rowan's hand and pulled her out of the room, much to Lord Thorof's disappointment. She guided Rowan to a back door, past the stairway leading upstairs.

"Go, go! Be quick; Warian won't wait for ever. And for your own sake, keep your dress clean!" Rowan nodded and ran off.

Chapter Four || Main || Chapter Six