chamber, where the water flowed from bronze fish-heads stuck on the wall. Amazing! While the bath filled, the slave Nada undid Hekat’s godbraids. Then she pointed to a cupboard against the wall. “There is soap and a sponge. I will fetch you a clean robe.”
Not afraid this time, Hekat stripped off her filthy clothes and slid into the bath. She washed her body, she washed her hair, all crinkly from the godbraids. The soap foam stung her eyes but she didn’t care. She was clean, she was clean, she would never be dirty again. She lived in Abajai’s villa. It was beautiful, and so was she.
The slave Nada returned with towels and a brush and a dark blue robe. Hekat climbed out of the bath, water streaming down her lovely clean skin. As the slave Nada waited, she dried herself, pulled on the robe, then dragged the brush through her hair over and over until it was smooth and barely damp.
The slave Nada led her to a lamplit kitchen, where she sat at a table with four slaves who stared at her and would have spoken, but the slave Nada frowned them to silence. Not caring she was stared at, Hekat ate hot meat and drank cool sadsa. When her belly was filled to bursting she followed the slave Nada out of the kitchen, past other rooms and two more staring slaves until they reached a small chamber with a bed in it, but no windows.
“Sleep,” said the slave Nada, holding the door wide so light from the passageway beyond spilled inside. “I will fetch you one finger after newsun. There is a pishpot under the bed, if you need it.”
As the chamber door closed, Hekat climbed under the blankets. Her head touched the soft pillows, her body sighed, and within a heartbeat she was sucked from the waking world and into sleep, where for once the dream dogs did not find her.
Hekat woke before the slave Nada came for her. Someone had put a lit candle beside the bed. By its small light she used the pishpot and soon after that the slave woman arrived, with a tunic, leggings and shoes for her to wear. Hekat dressed, and walked with her to the kitchen where the slave Retoth was waiting.
“Where is Abajai?” she asked him. “Abajai and Hekat eat breakfast together.”
The eight slaves eating at the kitchen table made little noises of surprise and stared at her with stupid faces. Nada stared, and the big kitchen slave in charge of cooking. He stopped stirring a pot hanging from a hook above the firecoals, wiped his arm across his face and looked at her as though she was demonstruck. It seemed the whole room held its breath.
The slave Retoth smiled. “Poor child. The master has told me you come from the savage north. Forget that place now. Forget the caravan upon the road. This is Et-Raklion, we are civilized here. We are civilized in this house, where the master’s lightest breath is law. It is his want that you attend me. Do I go to him now and say you will not?”
An arrogant man, this slave Retoth. She would speak to Abajai of him when next they sat together. Until then, she could play his stupid game. She shook her head. “No, Retoth. Hekat attends you.”
He smiled again, his eyes were watchful. “Good. Eat now, then Nada will show you the places in this house where you might put your feet. Put your feet in these places only, not in the places she does not show you. Then you will be properly godbraided. Afterwards I will come for you, the master has tasked me with tasks for you.”
Hekat looked at him. “All of this is Abajai’s want?”
“Every word I speak reflects the master’s want,” said Retoth. “Of that you can be certain.”
“I am certain of Abajai,” she told Retoth.
More shocked noises from the watching slaves. She looked at them sideways, feeling contempt. Goat people. Bleating like goats, huddling like goats.
They would make me small, the slaves in this house. I am not small. I wear no slave-braid. I named myself. I call him Abajai, he is not my master. Abajai is my friend.
Retoth departed, she ate hot
Not afraid this time, Hekat stripped off her filthy clothes and slid into the bath. She washed her body, she washed her hair, all crinkly from the godbraids. The soap foam stung her eyes but she didn’t care. She was clean, she was clean, she would never be dirty again. She lived in Abajai’s villa. It was beautiful, and so was she.
The slave Nada returned with towels and a brush and a dark blue robe. Hekat climbed out of the bath, water streaming down her lovely clean skin. As the slave Nada waited, she dried herself, pulled on the robe, then dragged the brush through her hair over and over until it was smooth and barely damp.
The slave Nada led her to a lamplit kitchen, where she sat at a table with four slaves who stared at her and would have spoken, but the slave Nada frowned them to silence. Not caring she was stared at, Hekat ate hot meat and drank cool sadsa. When her belly was filled to bursting she followed the slave Nada out of the kitchen, past other rooms and two more staring slaves until they reached a small chamber with a bed in it, but no windows.
“Sleep,” said the slave Nada, holding the door wide so light from the passageway beyond spilled inside. “I will fetch you one finger after newsun. There is a pishpot under the bed, if you need it.”
As the chamber door closed, Hekat climbed under the blankets. Her head touched the soft pillows, her body sighed, and within a heartbeat she was sucked from the waking world and into sleep, where for once the dream dogs did not find her.
Hekat woke before the slave Nada came for her. Someone had put a lit candle beside the bed. By its small light she used the pishpot and soon after that the slave woman arrived, with a tunic, leggings and shoes for her to wear. Hekat dressed, and walked with her to the kitchen where the slave Retoth was waiting.
“Where is Abajai?” she asked him. “Abajai and Hekat eat breakfast together.”
The eight slaves eating at the kitchen table made little noises of surprise and stared at her with stupid faces. Nada stared, and the big kitchen slave in charge of cooking. He stopped stirring a pot hanging from a hook above the firecoals, wiped his arm across his face and looked at her as though she was demonstruck. It seemed the whole room held its breath.
The slave Retoth smiled. “Poor child. The master has told me you come from the savage north. Forget that place now. Forget the caravan upon the road. This is Et-Raklion, we are civilized here. We are civilized in this house, where the master’s lightest breath is law. It is his want that you attend me. Do I go to him now and say you will not?”
An arrogant man, this slave Retoth. She would speak to Abajai of him when next they sat together. Until then, she could play his stupid game. She shook her head. “No, Retoth. Hekat attends you.”
He smiled again, his eyes were watchful. “Good. Eat now, then Nada will show you the places in this house where you might put your feet. Put your feet in these places only, not in the places she does not show you. Then you will be properly godbraided. Afterwards I will come for you, the master has tasked me with tasks for you.”
Hekat looked at him. “All of this is Abajai’s want?”
“Every word I speak reflects the master’s want,” said Retoth. “Of that you can be certain.”
“I am certain of Abajai,” she told Retoth.
More shocked noises from the watching slaves. She looked at them sideways, feeling contempt. Goat people. Bleating like goats, huddling like goats.
They would make me small, the slaves in this house. I am not small. I wear no slave-braid. I named myself. I call him Abajai, he is not my master. Abajai is my friend.
Retoth departed, she ate hot
Similar Books
