Chapter 2

Siska awoke with the sun in her eyes and leaped from the bed, a look of panic crossing onto her face until she looked about, blinking. She then recalled where she was and what was happening and smiled. Her sky blue robes hung from a peg on the back of the door, where she had left them and her eyes fastened onto them.

I am supposed to become a wizard? Or is witch the proper term? She blinked at the robe as if it were a foreign thing which she had never regarded before. The sound of footsteps passed by her door and then receded toward the stairs and clomped heavily down them.

Hastily, she grabbed the robes and tossed them over herself, savoring the soft feeling of the silk as it slid over her flesh, then turning to admire herself in a long mirror made of a single panel of almost flawlessly smooth glass. She stared at it. In the manor, only the mistress had owned such a mirror, and hers was not quite so large. She touched her reflection in the glass, looking at her own eyes regarding a tall, slender girl in a light blue robe with her golden hair cascading over her shoulders.

I am to be freed this day, she thought, then decided to leave off the excitement for when that event came to pass, if it did. Perhaps her master was only toying with her, to see if she would freely give herself to him, rather than making it an order. She had almost done so the night before, nearly tumbled into his bed and willingly given her body to the man. Her face twisted a bit into a scowl at her own foolishness. No one paid that much money for a slave then freed them the next day.

The footsteps came back up the stairs and there was a light rap upon the door. "Siska," came Phillip's voice, "I brought you something to eat."

She blinked again. He brought food to her? He must have been sorely impressed with her mouthing his organ the night before. Another glower crossed her face in the mirror before she turned from it. One save me, how I degraded myself last night, her thoughts twisted, serpentlike, in her mind.

She walked to the door, jerking it open with far more energy than needed. Phillip started a bit at that and several grapes tumbled off the platter he held and onto the floor. She looked down at them even as he did and they bent together to recover the errant fruit.

Two skulls met with a dull thud and both fell back onto their backsides. More grapes rolled off the metal tray, along with an apple, which landed between her sprawled feet and rolled up her robes.

The two of them looked at one another before Phillip smiled and began to laugh. Siska joined him in the laughter while they attempted to recover the grapes and she blushingly reached up her robes for the apple. He stood first, and put the dray down on a small table inside her door and offered her a hand. She smiled and let him help her up. "Some wizard I am, hmm?" he asked.

"Why did you bring me breakfast?" she asked, suddenly very concerned for his reasons.

Phillip stopped smiling at the accusing tone in her voice. He looked at the tray, then back at her. "Why not?" he asked. "I was down there and was coming up, anyway."

She looked at the tray. "It's my job, slave or apprentice, isn't it?"

He blinked again. "You're not a slave," he said, his voice darkening with his eyes.

"It says I am on that document from the auction house," she said.

"Which we are going to revoke this very day, Siska," said Phillip. He looked at her anew and added, "What's gotten into you?"

She glared at the tray again. "I need no payment for the service I provided last night, nor for those I nearly provided," she said. "I'm your slave, I provide whatever service you demand, master."

She picked up the tray and walked to the small writing desk, sitting in the chair and began eating the fruit that seemed to not have gathered too much dirt.

"Siska..." began Phillip.

Another glower answered him and interrupted his words. "Lest you command me, I am eating, master," she said around a mouthful of grapes. "I will be available to tend to more of your needs shortly."

"Damnit, Siska," growled Phillip, stepping into the room and glaring now. "You offered it last night. I tried three times to refuse. What in the hell should I have done?"

Siska sighed and turned again. "You should have treated me like a slave, and not delivered onto me all this talk of freeing me," she said.

"You don't believe I'm going to free you?" he asked.

"I cannot imagine anyone giving up such a sum of money then not keeping what they bought," she said, turning back to her platter of fruit and bread. "I was a fool to believe it," she murmured.

Phillip stomped across the room to the wardrobe and flung it open hard enough to slam the doors against the frame, then pulled out a pair of shoes. "Put these on," he growled, tossing them at her feet.

She blinked at the angry, insistent tone, but responded immediately, hastily putting on the shoes and tying the thongs that bound them to her feet. Suddenly, she was very aware that her master was a wizard of power and she had upset him greatly.

His face was flushed red when she looked up again and felt herself shrink before the corona of coruscating white light about his form. He was beyond angry, he was enraged.

When Siska stood, she felt a strong hand grab her shoulder and aim her for the door. "Go, now," he said, nudging her that direction. She stumbled a step, then proceeded him out the door and down the stairs to the cluttered common room.

Once in the room, she stopped. "Keep moving," he said, pushing her again. Tears were forming in her eyes. "Please," she said, looking at the front door, which he was aiming her for. "I've not been out in the town much."

"Your problem," he said, his voice carrying the cold wind of the north in it. "Move - slave."

The tears broke free and ran down her smooth cheeks as she walked to the door and opened it. People were moving up and down the wide boulevard at the end of the drive. Her feet tried to stop at the door jamb, but Phillip pushed her blinking and sniffing tears into the morning sunlight.

"Come," he said walking down the path toward the main street.

She stood, terrified and still crying upon the porch. "Master, please," she said in a pitiful voice.

Phillip stopped and turned around. "If you don't get moving - right now - I shall sell you to the first brothel we come to for ten marks," he said. "Then repay that ten marks to them to be your first customer."

A lump rose in Siska's throat at even the thought of what would have been happening to her, already, had she been sold to a brothel. She would have lost her innocence last night, terribly, then served several other men after, probably until the sun came up a couple of hours ago. Clenching her jaw and fists, she walked after him.

"Master, where are we going?" she asked. She had heard some soft-hearted slave owners paid others to apply punishments to their slaves, as they could not bring themselves to actually do perform some of the more base forms of punishment, such as hobbling.

"Shut up," hissed Phillip. "You're not dressed as a slave, and if you keep saying 'master', people will stare."

She fell into step behind him, as she saw other slaves on the street doing, walking at their owner's left and two paces to the rear. He walked at a brisk pace that nearly made her jog to keep up as he walked down the busy street. The tears stung her eyes as she fretted and worried as to what was to happen.

Phillip turned off the street suddenly, into a building which bore no signs. She followed him hesitantly and stood in the doorway. A man glowered from a counter in the room toward her. "Get out of the door, you idiot," he said, looking a the parchment in his hand then at Siska. "You've dressed her in normal clothes?" he asked.

"I thought it appropriate," said Phillip.

The man looked again. "Appropriate to put a slave in normal folk's clothes?" he asked, giving Siska a long look. "No matter how pretty."

Phillip looked at her. "Well, that's the point isn't it?" he asked. "I want to release her."

The man blinked at him. "You've not even fully registered her, sir," said the squat, broad-shouldered man. "You only bought her just yesterday." He looked down at the papers in his hand and his eyes widened to the size of pie tins. "And paid a king's ransom for her, to boot, sir."

The wizard sighed and gave the clerk a condescending smile. "Yes, I know this," he said. "Believe me, my coffers note the change." He looked with accusing eyes at Siska. "Nonetheless, I wish to free her, this day."

"Can't," said the man, simply, handing back the papers to Phillip. "Not today, at least."

"And why is that?" asked Phillip.

"Got to have her fully registered first, and notorized," said the clerk, scratching at his eyebrow.

Another long sigh escaped Phillip. "And where to I fully register her?" he asked.

"Here, sir," said the man. "Takes a week or two, though, to finish up the papers."

Phillip looked sternly at the man, then at Siska, then at the doorway leading into the building. He removed a sack from his belt and dug into it, pulling forth five GOLD coins and dropping them into the man's hand, which seemed to have been idly sitting, palm up, on the counter. "I really need the whole of the transaction completed this day," he said.

The man's eyes went wide for a second time at the sight of gold in his palm. He sprang into action like his backside were burning and Phillip held the bucket of water.

Siska stood stunned as the man ran to and fro, calling to unseen people in the back room and moving about with documents from the counter to the room and back, holding them out just long enough for Phillip to sign his name, then again, with a wrinkled old woman from the back watching, then Siska was asked to sign something, then with the old woman watching. There was a solid-sounding thud as a wax seal was affixed to the parchment, and it was rolled up and shoved into a leather scroll case, tied with a golden tassel.

This happened in the span of less than an hour, and neither Siska nor Phillip was sure what was happening at any given moment. Phillip might be a wizard, but no esoteric magical art could divine the inner workings of bureaucracy.

The squat man held the scroll case out to Siska, smiling broadly. It was an honest, happy smile, she could tell, even on that rather squished-looking face. "Freewoman Siska, your emancipation," he said.

She took the scroll case like it was something to be feared, her eyes wide. Then, she turned to Phillip, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Ma - Phillip, One's blessing on you. My thanks," she said and pinned him to the wall with a hug that threatened to crush his ribs. The scroll case thudded against the back of his head solidly as she shifted her grip on him but did not relent in the hug one whit for more than a minute. He could feel the material of his robe wetting where her eyes were.

The two walked out of the little office and onto the street again. "Now, freewoman," asked Phillip. "What say you that we go get lunch?"

Siska blinked at the people around her, smiling broadly, then turned to him. "Yes, that would be nice, Phillip," she said, trying out her 'freewoman' voice.

He offered her his arm, curling it out to form a loop to his side. She slipped her hand into the ring and rested it upon his wrist. Together, the two walked toward the bustling thunder of the marketplace.

"Remember, once your training starts, you're my apprentice, and we can't be friends," he said.

Siska nodded. "I understand," she said.

"But one day without such things is okay, I suppose," said Phillip, patting her hand.

Things looked different to her now. What seemed threatening and worrisome to her now seemed just uncaring, if not actually inviting. As they entered the marketplace, however, they saw a slave following their master. Siska stopped and watched the young man shuffle past, his eyes downcast.

Phillip stopped with her as she turned to watch him. "I can't free all the slaves, Siska," he said quietly, as if apologizing.

Siska turned toward him. "It doesn't feel fair," she said. "Just because I've whatever it is wizards have, I get freed and they don't." She kept her eyes upon the slave as he shuffled around the corner and out of sight.

Phillip sighed deeply. "I know, Siska, but I have to be practical in this," he said.

She looked up into his eyes and gave her head a slow shake. "I guess you do, Phillip," she said.

They moved off down the walkway toward a eatery off the market and she looked down, watching the shuffle of her feet. With an effort of will, she lifted them higher, then took longer strides. Then she lifted her head and looked forward, her eyes turned down when anyone met her gaze, but she forced them back up, to relock that stare, then return it. By the time they crossed the market plaza, they looked away from her violet eyes, some of them, some met the gaze evenly, a few men blushed.

Her first meal as a freewoman did not taste much different from her last as a slave, though it had more meat and less fruit. She picked slowly at her food, the scroll case sitting beside her plate taking most of her attention. "How does it work?" she asked, eyeing the case harder. "Do you have papers saying you're not a slave?"

"No," said Phillip. "The paper is just in case someone puts a claim against you as a former slave." He looked toward the counter and ordered another glass of wine for each of them. "It really should not be an issue."

"What if I lose this?" she asked, touching the leather case and frowning.

"Don't," said Phillip, then added, "however, they keep a copy in the archives."

She nodded at that. "Somehow, I think I won't be misplacing this," she said, her fingertips stroking the smooth, wax-impregnated leather.

The mass of people moving past the door of the little eatery still worried her, and made her feel like running, but the feeling was subsiding slowly. No one seemed to give her a second glance, and that helped. They simply did not notice her, except in the case of some men.

Those men seemed to have a roving eye, and they usually smiled or even blushed when she caught them looking at her. She did not think that those particular looks were hostile.

"They're afraid to speak to you," said Phillip, sipping his fresh glass of wine.

Siska looked out the doorway where two young men, her own age, craned their necks to look back at her, then moved on. "Why?" she asked. "Surely there would be no shame now in speaking to me."

"The robes, they think you're a wizard," said Phillip. "They might rush up to you, seeking aid in something, but they will not walk up to engage in idle chit-chat. The glass was empty now and he looked at her hard. "Sometimes, I miss it."

Siska stared at the people in the eatery with new eyes. "Is that why so few will meet my gaze?" she asked.

"Probably, though you probably get more takers than I, being so pretty," replied Phillip.

She blushed a bit at that. "You really must stop saying that, Phillip," she said. "Though I do like to hear it."

"Did you just flirt back?" he asked, a broad smile forming on his lips.