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Message: <blockquote data-quote="havenstone" data-source="post: 5298503" data-attributes="member: 61094">MessengersWITHIN DAYS, ASH andMeeshak are allowed to leave the estate, to learn the run of the city – or at least the roads to the various noble estates, which are mostly spread out along the north bank of the Shanyang river.  The diminutive, self-effacing errand slave Chosdzed is their tutor, guide, and only guard.  Slavemaster Daoran clearly feels that no armed guards are necessary to keep the new slaves from running away.  Where would the Pale Ones go, and who would possibly help them?      As they walk briskly through the streets of northern Tziwan, the two Northerners manage to learn that their guide’s parents originally lived in Kardei – a mountain kingdom far to the west – before being enslaved and brought to Xaiman, where Chosdzed was born.  When Ash asks cautiously about the circumstances under which his parents were enslaved, the Kardei slave gives an uneasy smile and evades the question.    Ash and Meeshak soon realize the logic behind assigning them to carry messages.  Owning an exotic Northern captive is fashionable, and the two tall, pale slaves wearing Minister Tang’s colors draw both curious and envious stares on the street.  The nobles to whom they deliver their letters seem pleased and flattered to a greater extent than the mundane content of the messages would justify.    SHORTLY BEFORE THE Day of Harvest, the two Northerners are sent across the river for the first time since their purchase.  As on the day of their sale, they cross the Shanyang on a ferry and pass through the Celestial Gate, the northern entrance to Tziwan’s outermost tier [<a href="http://www.enworld.org/forum/4795861-post90.html" target="_blank">map</a>].  But this time instead of bearing west toward the slave market, Chosdzed beckons them eastward, into a neighborhood where every compound wall seems to be covered in ornate wood and stone carvings.  “The lords of Lakshadar are very fond of such ornamentation, and their artisans are the finest in the Empire,” their Kardei guide explains.  “This is the qohei [quarter] where the Lakshari dwell – the loyal nobles who have been granted land close to the light of the Emperor.  Lakshari travelers and merchants also usually stay somewhere in the qohei.”    “We passed a column of Lakshari slaves on the road south,” Ash recalls aloud.  “They had been captured in a rebellion.”  He thinks back to the oddly cheerful, newly enslaved <a href="http://www.enworld.org/forum/4790959-post86.html" target="_blank">Chandur</a>.  The Empire does its best to keep control over the mages.  The Kardei insurgency sixty years ago taught them that.  After all it cost them to pacify the Kardei...    Chosdzed’s smile does not waver.  “It is tragic that some subject nations do not recognize the power of our Masters.  One cannot conceive of the hard heart that would nurture such rebelliousness.”    They deliver a message to the estate of a Lakshari nobleman named Raj Narayan Shah, inviting him and his son Rupesh to the great Harvest banquet at the Tang estate.  Afterward, Ash and Meeshak stand in the outer courtyard of the Narayan Shah estate while Chosdzed talks with the local Slavemaster, waiting for a response letter to be scribed.  A quiet voice from the gate addresses them: “Slaves of Tang – would you tell me, is it true that you were captured north of the Arawai plains?”    Ash and Meeshak glance around and see a black-eyed Lakshari swordsman, perhaps three or four years older than them, regarding them from a game of tiles with some of the off-duty gate guards.  His earnest, friendly tone and expression are out of keeping with the curt contempt they’ve grown used to in the South.  As with all non-Xaimani who choose to bear swords in Tziwan, the young Lakshari’s saber is fastened to its sheath on his back with an elaborate peace knot.  “I’d have thought that all Xaiman knew the answer to that one by now – my Lord,” Meeshak ventures acerbically, caught off guard by the swordsman’s unexpected affability.    The gate watchmen eye each other and shake their heads.  “You see, Njitra?” one of them chuckles to the inquisitive young man.  “These pale slaves are as unruly as a half-Halaturq desert tribesman, or a Theilask with carbuncles.”    Njitra smiles warmly, to all appearances unaffected by Meeshak’s sarcasm.  “I had heard otherwise.  But I’d also heard it rumored that north of Arawai, there is no slavery – and that’s why the pale ones don’t know how to be slaves.”    The guards, Ash and Meeshak all fall uncomfortably silent.  “None of our Northron words means the same thing as your word ‘slave’,” a cautious Ash says at last.     “Had you ever seen a man or woman sold before you reached the Empire?” Njitra inquires, his eyes searching their faces.  “No, I thought not.  You could never have imagined being a slave.  How is it to find yourselves forever the property of a Xaimani?”    “Ii’s will is not always easy,” Meeshak replies guardedly.  A flash of half-remembered <a href="http://www.enworld.org/forum/4769840-post78.html" target="_blank">dream</a> comes to him: You are heroes, however much the vines choke you.  “But nothing can stand against it.”    Njitra tilts his head to one side, as if weighing the fatalism of the Northerner’s words against the fierce determination in his eyes.  “That thought seems to comfort you much more than it would me.”    “Forgive me, Master – we would answer more of your questions, but we must go,” says Ash, pointing to the returning Chosdzed.    “I’m no Master to you, slaves of Tang,” the young Lakshari says, waving them away.  “When you see me again, just call me Njitra.”</blockquote>

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