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ON INDEPENDENCE

"Xithuatlian society was communal in nature, but we still valued independence. To this end, before each Hatchling's Naming Day, they would undertake a rite of passage. This was something every Xithuatlian did at one point in their lives, and it was seen as the final step towards adulthood.

Each Hatchling chose for themselves when to undertake their Rite. When their time came they would venture alone into the jungle, and remain for thirty days and thirty nights. They were allowed to prepare as they wished, but they could only bring with them what they could carry. Food, water, and tools were encouraged, but nothing was forced. The final decision was made by the Hatchling and no one else.

When they were ready to leave, it was customary to say their goodbyes to the Tribe as if they would not be returning. It was simply understood that some Hatchlings would not return. Sometimes, this was because they succumbed to hardships they faced while on their Rite, but others simply found somewhere else to go - another tribe, perhaps. Occasionally, a Hatchling would decide they preferred life in isolation in the jungle; this, too, was allowed. Sometimes Hatchlings on their Rites would find each other, and form entirely new Tribes together.

The Hatchling would depart in the morning, and was expected to spend the first day traveling. There was no rule mandating where they must go, or how far, but it was understood that the Hatchling should travel past the bounds of what they knew, and venture into the unknown beyond. It was a time for exploration, self-reflection, and survival.

It was up to the Hatchling where to settle, or if they would settle at all. Some chose to travel for the full thirty days, living as a nomad, moving their camp with them. Others chose to choose somewhere to call home for their time in the jungle, and build a shelter there. Still others would find a natural structure to inhabit - a cave, or a hollowed tree, for instance.

How they spent their time was for them to decide. We did not talk about what happened on our Rites; it was a private, personal thing, and to speak of it, or ask another about it, would have been considered very inappropriate, bordering on taboo. When a Hatchling returned from their Rite, they were welcomed back into the Tribe, and it was never mentioned again. However, it was customary for the Hatchling to bring back a souvenir from their time away - perhaps something they had found, perhaps something they had made. Each was different, and unique to its bearer.

Each Tribe's settlement was built around a large totem, carved from wood or stone. On it, we carved the Names of each member of our settlement. Around the base of the totem, a Hatchling who had returned from their Rite would place their souvenir. They accumulated over time, a collection of objects, each of which held a personal significance or meaning to only one member of the Tribe. Alone, each represented our individuality, our independence... and together, they represented unity."

• Setha-Vim, Tribe and Totem: A Historical Record of Xithuatlian Culture, pg. 36

BETRAYAL

"I spent most of my first night in Lord Ocroth's estate lying awake. Every time I managed to find sleep I would see Daryi-Vel, and would wake moments later, quivering, wondering how long I had until his fate became my own. Why had there been nine clicks when my Master had wound my collar? I did not know, and the uncertainty terrified me.

I tossed and turned throughout the night, and might have laid there through the following day if not for the sounds of the other Xithuatlians waking and walking from their rooms into the hallway outside my door. I joined them a few minutes later, groggy from my lack of sleep, distracted by thoughts of my collar still.

The building was seemingly designed to maximize mobility for and minimize visibility of those working in it, and using the network of cramped, hidden corridors, we could move between almost any two rooms without using the hallways or doorways our Master and his guests used. Rooms where we commonly worked - washrooms, the kitchen, storerooms - were also hidden away out of sight.

Perhaps due to the relative privacy we were afforded while working, and the lower intensity nature of the work itself, the other Xithuatlians were more talkative than any of my prior Masters' slaves. This was a necessity, as I learned, to coordinate our efforts; they had created an efficient system. Only one of us needed to be present to attend to our Master or his guests; the rest of us could remain out of sight and take care of common daily domestic tasks, or any immediate needs that were relayed to us by whomever was attending our Master at the time. As long as the work was done, I was told, we would be left mostly to our own devices; we were afforded a measure of freedom to move about the manor as we needed, and were even allowed to go outside into the city when our duties called for it.

While we enjoyed these small privileges, I was told that our Master was very particular about the work we did. Everything must be done just so, and he had little tolerance for deviation or error. This was doubly so when it related to his visitors; he was a merchant, and maintained his status in the city's hierarchy by growing his wealth, and the wealth of the nobles who financed his ventures. His duties primarily involved arranging the purchase, transport and re-sale of large lots of industrial materials, manufactured goods, or even slaves; this necessitated frequent meetings with other merchants, shippers, buyers, sellers, and financiers. His manor had a number of guest rooms where he would host associates from other cities or even other nations during their stay. Maintaining the appearance of affluence, I learned, was an important part of his business, and we were an important part of that facade.

Tavi-il-Riza, the Xithuatlian who had been working for our Master the longest, was in charge of assigning tasks to the rest of us, and he did not trust me to live up to our Master's standards of quality. I was given jobs that kept me out of view, and he meticulously double-checked everything I worked on. Despite the lack of trust, I found this arrangement agreeable; I did not want to be standing a post in the house proper any more than Tavi-il-Riza wanted me to be there. So it was that I spent my first day in the manor washing clothing, organizing a pantry, and scrubbing dishes.

As the end of the day grew near, my anxiety grew nearly unmanageable, and it did not go unnoticed. One of the other Xithuatlians, Xil-Narish, took notice of my discomfort, and took me aside to ask what was wrong; she had thought I was simply uncomfortable with my new home. I explained what had put me on edge; she confided that our Master seemed to pay little attention when winding our collars, and that it may simply have been an oversight. This did not help my anxiety, but she assured me that in the time she had been there, she had never heard of anyone's collar causing them discomfort. Sure enough, when our Master came to my quarters that night, I counted the familiar one - eight - one. He came and went without incident, and without speaking to me; I slept more easily that night, the combined result of not worrying so much about my collar, and of being so very tired.

In the days, weeks and months that followed, I learned the nuances of our Master's manor, and slowly earned Tavi-il-Riza's trust. I was eventually given more responsibilities and, with them, more freedom to operate without his intense scrutiny, which over time began to include ventures into the common areas of the building. At first, this was limited to simply delivering food, removing dirty plates and cutlery, or cleaning a spill, but I gradually began to take on the loathsome task of attending our Master and his guests, as Rivi-Zen and Padiki-va-Jin had trained me to do.

Having the support of the other Xithuatlians made the job easier. If our Master or his guests required something, the other Xithuatlians would prepare it, and whomever of us was acting as the presence in the public half of the building had only to bring it out to them; even so, I found the task of maintaining decorum and obeying protocol to be tiresome and stressful. I quickly grew to hate human society even more than I already had. Their interactions appeared casual and sincere at first glance, but I came to understand that everything they did or said was a calculated maneuver intended to manipulate one another. Each seemingly casual meeting or discussion was full of posturing and double-speak. It was exhausting even to listen to; I did not know how they could bear to do it. I attended many visitors; it seemed there were always people coming and going from the manor, but it was not until I had been there for a few months that I took an interest in one.

Lord Roscoe Dodd was not from Soladovia. He was a merchant from a neighboring nation, and was staying at my Master's estate while they made business arrangements. At first, I did not notice anything remarkable about him; he conducted himself much as all of my Master's other guests had, but late on his first day in the manor, he was left alone with me in the sitting room, and he began talking to me.

This may not sound remarkable to you, but in the months I had been in the manor, not one human other than my Master had spoken a word to me; it was simply not something that was done. We were ignored until we were needed, and we were only given the minimal amount of attention required to get what they wanted from us. Even then, snapping and pointing was their preferred method of communication; if our Master had to speak to us, it was usually a bad sign. Lord Dodd, though, was different, and when he spoke to me, it caught me completely off guard. Even more so because he did not give me an order, but rather asked me a simple question.

"What is your name?"

I did not immediately recognize that the question was directed at me; I remained silent, staring at the floor, imagining a happier place in my mind. I felt his eyes on me, though, and looked up a few moments later to see him watching me patiently, leaning back in his chair casually like nothing about this was out of the ordinary. It took me a moment more to realize what he had asked me; I answered him very belatedly. "Setha-Vim," I said, then hesitated... I did not even know what to call him. I drew from my training with Padiki-va-Jin, and added an even more belated, "...Sir."

He chuckled, and waved a hand at me dismissively. "No need to be so formal," he said to me. "I am Lord Roscoe Dodd. You may call me Roscoe." He must have seen my surprise - and discomfort - at this; if my Master entered to hear me referring to this man by such a familiar name, I do not know what would have happened to me, but I trust it would not have been pleasant. He added, after a moment, "Or Lord Dodd, if that is more comfortable for you. It is nice to meet you, Setha-Vim."

I took a quick look around the room... I felt like my Master would burst in at any moment, that this was a test to see how I would behave when he was not present, but after an awkward few moments, I replied, "It is nice to meet you, too, Lord Dodd." It felt like a very strange thing to be saying, but I did not know what else to say. I did not know how to engage in small talk with a human; I had never been expected to before.

"What does your name mean?" If his first question had left me surprised, this one left me amazed. Never before had a human asked me this; I did not know they even knew about our Names.

"It means 'Free Tongue'," I answered, translating it literally. He continued looking at me, not seeming to understand, so I added, "It means I am someone who talks a lot." He actually chuckled at that.

"I have not heard you say a single word until just now," he said to me. I nodded my head in agreement.

"We are not supposed to speak," I told him.

"And yet, here you are," he observed.

At that moment, the door opened and my Master walked back into the room. He saw Lord Dodd looking at me, and gave him a questioning look, as if he thought I had committed some offense. In fact, I had committed an offense simply by speaking to his guest, but Lord Dodd simply nodded to him. "I was just admiring your slave," he said. "He is very well behaved." My master nodded in acknowledgement, and they began talking about their business again. I faded into the background once more, no longer the focus of anyone's attention. I felt a wave of relief wash over me.

I asked the other Xithuatlians that night if Lord Dodd had spoken to anyone else. I was told that he had not, however, no one else had been left alone with him, either. I was reminded that he was not from Soladovia; as such, he may have been unfamiliar with the customs here, and may simply have thought he was being polite. This did not sound right to me, but I did not press the matter further. Tavi-il-Riza further reminded me that I was not to speak while attending our Master, and especially not to his guests. I accepted his scolding with humility. When our Master came to wind my collar, it was once again the one - nine - one pattern. I had begun scratching marks into the side of my cot to keep track of how often this happened. This was the seventh instance. It no longer caused me alarm, but it did make me curious.

The following day, I was in the back of the manor, carrying crates of food into the pantry. Xil-Narish, who was attending our Master that day, came to find me; it was unexpected, and I was immediately put on edge. Lord Dodd, she informed me, wished a slave to attend him in his rooms, and he had requested me personally. Confused by this turn of events, I abandoned the crates and followed Xil-Narish to Lord Dodd's chambers, where I was promptly admitted, and she was dismissed.

The guest rooms were not large, but they were well furnished; they had a large bed, a desk and chair, a washroom, and a small couch. I had seen them many times before, as cleaning them was part of our duties in the manor. Lord Dodd sat at the desk with some paperwork, but he got up when I entered, and greeted me by name.

"Hello, Setha-Vim. It is nice to see you again," he said. I stood by the doorway, unsure of what was expected of me.

"Hello, Lord Dodd," I said, using his name as he had asked me to... I still did not feel comfortable calling him Roscoe, and did not think I ever would. "It is nice to see you again, too," I added, trying to match his cordial, friendly tone. It felt very strange to be talking to a human in this manner.

"As you likely already know, I am not from Soladovia," he said to me. "I am, in fact, from Osciadour, far to the west. Have you ever been there?" I shook my head. "No, I thought not," he continued. "I have been doing business with Lord Ocroth for a number of years, and I have recently started giving some consideration to relocating to Soladovia. I was hoping you might wish to live up to your name, and tell me a bit about how things are here."

I answered him honestly but bluntly. "I am a slave," I said. "The breadth of my knowledge and experience is very limited."

"I understand that," he replied. "That is why I am interested in hearing it from you. I trust that you will give me a more honest answer than I would get from anyone else in this city. I want to hear about your experiences, and I want you to be honest and open with me. Can you do that?"

This felt wrong to me, but I could not place why. I was not against sharing my opinion of this city and its residents... I had quite strong feelings about them, and none of them were positive. However, I was reluctant to be as honest and open as he had requested; regardless of how friendly Lord Dodd was being with me, he was still my Master's business associate, and I did not trust that anything I said to him would truly be kept between us. My Master may even have put him up to this, to coax me into speaking ill of him. I started to tell Lord Dodd a very neutral account of my arrival in the city and how I had come to be at my Master's manor, but he stopped me quickly.

"Setha-Vim," he said, "I asked you to be honest and open with me, and this is what you tell me? If you are not able to do as I ask, perhaps I was wrong to invite you here to talk with me."

I began to apologize, but he cut me off again with a wave of his hand. "I suspect this is going to be difficult for you," he told me, "but I want to know the truth. I want to know what others here will not tell me. I want to hear your story." He looked over at the writing desk. "Why not bring that chair over here?" he asked me. I did so, and he indicated a spot in the center of the room where I should put it, directly in front of the couch. He sat down on the couch, and gestured to the chair, indicating that I should sit on it.

Even at this simple request, I hesitated... This was all very unconventional. However, I had been brought here to attend to Lord Dodd. Surely this had been sanctioned by my Master. He would want me to obey his guest's orders. I sat. The chair was not designed for Xithuatlians; there was nowhere for my tail to go, so I had to turn the chair sideways and sit on it like a stool, with the backrest at my side. Lord Dodd watched me with a look of mild amusement on his face.

"Now," he said to me. "I would like to hear what you have to say, Setha-Vim. Why not start at the beginning - where are you from?"

Hesitantly, I began to tell him of our jungle home, of our tribes, our society, and once I had begun talking, once I had begun remembering, the words simply kept coming. I flowed from topic to topic and told him everything I could think to tell. Through all of it, he sat and listened attentively, asked clarifying questions, even remembered and repeated specific names I had told him. I could hardly have asked for a better audience. I do not know how long I talked for, but by the time I began to lose momentum, my guard had been almost completely let down; I had laid it all bare for this human whom I hardly knew. He waited until I ran out of things to tell, then prompted me to continue.

"How did you come to live in Soladovia?" he asked me.

I told him the story, and held little back. I talked about the slave-takers, the training camp, my first Master. I told him about Narish-va-Tathi and Daryi-Vel. I shared my opinions on the treatment of Xithuatlians in Soladovia. It felt cathartic to tell the stories, and without realizing it, I was throwing caution to the wind. If my Master heard even a fraction of what I was saying, I am certain he would have cut out my tongue at the very least. Lord Dodd, though, was not my Master, and he listened to the whole of it without interruption.

He regarded me sympathetically as my momentum slowed; I was still unsure of his intentions, but it felt good to have been able to share these stories. He asked me about my collar. I explained what little I knew of them, and, emboldened by his interest, I confided that I had been listening to the sounds as it was wound, and about the irregularities I had taken note of. I asked if he knew how the collars worked, but he told me that he did not. When I had run out of things to tell, and had answered all of the questions he had to ask, he told me that he had some business he had to attend to with my Master. He must have seen the look on my face, because he then assured me that everything I spoke of would be kept in confidence; he would not tell my Master, nor would he tell anyone else that I had told him these things. I was sent away from his room, but he told me that he would request my presence again in the days to come.

He was true to his word, and two days later, he once again asked that I be brought to his room. This time, though, it was not only to hear my stories. He had asked some questions and had learned a little of how our collars worked, which he was willing to share with me. The clicks I was hearing, he explained, were likely the collar's internal timing mechanism being set. The first and final click were preparing the mechanism to receive input and confirming the settings. Each click in the middle set represented three hours; the eight clicks I was used to hearing meant that the lethal mechanism had been delayed by one full day. When I heard nine clicks, it had been delayed by 27 hours. This time was additive unless the mechanism was intentionally reset, which would come with its own recognizable series of sounds. Since this had happened seven times so far, it meant that nearly an entire extra day had been added.

My first thought upon learning this was that this meant I no longer had to worry as much about my collar. If my Master was late to wind it, or even missed a day entirely, I would be okay. My second thought, though, was of how I might be able to use this information. The other Xithuatlians in the manor had been here longer than I had; how much time had been inadvertently added to their collars? Days? Weeks? I had no way to know, and I knew from voicing my concerns to them that they had not been keeping track, or even paying it much attention. Even if they had, what good would it do?

The obvious answer was that we could flee. There were no chains, no locks keeping us in the manor. As with all Xithuatlian slaves, our collars and the looming danger they represented were the walls to our prisons. If the collars were no longer a threat, there was nothing stopping us from leaving any time we wished. However, it was not as simple as that. Even if we had days, weeks, months, we still could not remove our collars. Could we find a way, with that much time? I did not know; I had never heard of a slave successfully removing their own collar. They were not designed to be removed at all while the wearer was still alive. Emboldened by his willingness to share information with me, I asked Lord Dodd if he knew of any way to remove a slave's collar, but he told me that he did not.

He invited me to sit again; this time, the chair from the writing desk had already been moved to its place in front of the couch. I accepted his offer again, rather less reluctantly this time. He picked up a bowl of fruit sitting on the table next to him, and held it out to me. I looked at it, confused, and asked him if he needed me to refill it; he simply laughed, and told me that I could take a piece to eat, if I wished to.

Slaves in Soladovia are fed, of course, but the food we are given is not often particularly palatable. Xithuatlians have notably strong stomachs and we can digest most things... Our oppressors take advantage of these facts, feeding us what they themselves would not want to, or could not eat. In all my time in Soladovia, this has never once included fruit. I looked up at Lord Dodd and hesitated, wondering if perhaps this was a test or a trick; even after all he had done to show me he was not like the other humans I had met, I still doubted him. When he did not retract the offer, I selected an apple, and took a bite from it.

It tasted divine. Perhaps my tastes had changed after so long eating the dregs of the humans' food stores, but at that moment I was certain I had never eaten anything that tasted so sweet, so good. Lord Dodd watched me eat the apple, an amused expression on his face, and then offered me the bowl again; I graciously accepted, and took another. He waited until I had finished eating it, and then he asked me what I thought of my Master.

The question was difficult to answer; I was still not entirely convinced that I was not being watched, listened to, and reported on during these ostensibly private calls to Lord Dodd's room. I had never encountered a situation like this, and I was not sure how to handle it. After some hesitation, though, I told him some of the truth: that I did not dislike my Master more than other so-called higher class humans in the city, but rather that I disliked them all equally. I told him that I found their treatment of us to be even more distasteful than the taskmasters outside the city; at least the taskmasters in the fields and the mines and the factories were easy to understand, their expectations clear. Here, it felt like a constant dance we were performing, and the consequences of even a single missed step could be dire.

Lord Dodd nodded at my answer; he did not show much of an emotional response, not that I could read. He asked me, then, what I thought of him... Whether I found him to be distasteful as well. I did not have to withhold the truth this time; I told him that I did not find him distasteful at all. From what I had seen of him, he was not like the other merchants here. I conjectured that perhaps it was because he was not from Soladovia, that perhaps their customs were different where he was from. He seemed to find this amusing. They did not, he revealed, have slaves at all in Osciadour; servants, certainly, but they were voluntary, and paid. He told me he, too, found our treatment distasteful. He talked to me for a short while longer before I was dismissed once again. I returned to my duties, and did not speak of the details of my encounter to the other Xithuatlians. The sweet, juicy taste of the apples lingered in my mouth for the rest of the day. I savored it.

Lord Dodd invited me back to his room twice more during his stay. The third visit was much the same as the previous two... He asked me questions, which I answered. I told him stories when he asked me to. I was given another apple. The fourth visit, however, took me by surprise. When I was admitted to his room, the chair was not in front of the couch, but still in front of the desk. Notably, it was not facing the desk, as it would be when Lord Dodd sat in it; it was turned to the side, as I had been using it. Lord Dodd was standing beside it, and beckoned me to come to him. He asked me to sit in the chair, and on the desk I found a stack of blank paper, a pen, and a pot of ink waiting for me. I looked up at Lord Dodd questioningly. He asked me if I could write, and I told him that I could, but only in my own language. He asked me to show him.

It had been a long time since I had written anything, and our language was not one that could easily be written with a human's pen. I tried to explain this to him, but he waved my explanations away, and asked me to try my best. I picked up the pen, dipped it into the ink, and tried to write a simple sentence: 'I am Setha-Vim, and I am a Xithuatlian.' Our written language consists of many strokes of varying thickness and direction, and the pen was simply not able to create the variety of lines that the brushes we use could manage. My script was sloppy, and would have been impossible to read.

Lord Dodd watched me try; it was clear to me that he could not read Xithuatlian. I did not know what the purpose of the demonstration was, but he was quick to show me. He took a folded paper from his pocket, and spread it out on the desk for me. It was written in the humans' language; I had seen these characters before, but I could not read them. Lord Dodd asked if I knew what the paper said, and I admitted that I did not. He asked if I could transcribe it.

I looked at the paper carefully; I could tell that it was a mix of letters and numerals, and I could mostly discern which were which, but I could determine little more about its contents. I tried to copy the symbols that were written there, but my work was sloppy, and slow. Imagine trying to copy a series of tiny pictures, with only small variations between them. That is how it felt to me. Lord Dodd watched my work, and when I had finished a line, he pointed out the errors I had made; there were many. He asked me to write it again, and this time, I made fewer errors; by the sixth time I had written it, he found no fault at all in my work, and I was allowed to continue on to the second line.

Thus my day was spent. By the time I had completed the last line, I had no more understanding of what I was copying than I had had before I began, but I had become much more competent at drawing the humans' letters and numerals. Lord Dodd seemed very pleased with my work. Even I felt a measure of pride in it; I had enjoyed writing, once, long ago, and it felt good to be able to do it again, even in this unfamiliar script. It was then that Lord Dodd explained his plans to me.

The following morning, he would be returning to Osciadour. This was the last time he would meet with me here. However, he had plans to return to Soladovia - to relocate here, permanently. He asked me if I would like to live with him when he did. I was surprised; I told him that I would very much like that, but I told him I felt it was unlikely my Master would sell me. He told me he had thought of that, and had a plan.

My Master, he told me, had been engaging in some illicit business. He did not explain the nature of this business to me, but the way he spoke of it, I gathered that it must be something very serious. Lord Dodd had been trying to collect evidence of my Master's wrongdoing, but had been unsuccessful; he had strong suspicions, but nothing that he could act on. That, he explained, is where I could be of assistance. Lord Dodd needed my Master's ledger. With it, he said, and what he had already gathered, he would have proof of my Master's misdeeds. With that proof, he told me, he would have leverage, and with that leverage, he would be in a position to make demands. One of those demands would be the key to my collar.

I was shocked at what he was telling me. If I had told my Master what Lord Dodd had told me, I would likely be rewarded. I would certainly earn his trust, and perhaps a higher position within the hierarchy of his slaves... but I would still be a slave. No more. If I did what Lord Dodd was asking of me, and was caught... I would almost certainly be executed. However, if I did what Lord Dodd was asking of me, and succeeded... I did not know what plans Lord Dodd had for me, but I was far more optimistic about them than anything else I had been offered since I had been captured, or anything I expected I would be offered again.

I asked him how I would find the ledger, and he explained that it would likely be in my Master's private study, but that he did not know precisely where. He showed me his own ledger - rows upon rows of numerals and written descriptions on each line - to serve as an example... I would have to find it. However, it was not so simple as finding it... I would have to copy it, and return the original to where my Master had kept it.

Lord Dodd told me that he had reserved a room at an inn in the city for the following night, and that once he left my Master's manor, that is where he would be going. If I was to find the ledger, copy it, and bring the copy to him in that inn before he left in two days' time, he would ensure my safety. My Master, he assured me, would not find out that it had been me; furthermore, he would be in no position to retaliate against me.

---

I hardly slept at all that night. The idea sounded incredible when I was in Lord Dodd's room hearing him explain it, but when I was left to my own thoughts, the doubt came flooding in like a tsunami. Even just discussing the possibility with Lord Dodd had been reckless. He had no stake in what he was proposing; he would be gone tomorrow. If I tried to do what he asked, and I failed, it would be me that would take the blame for it, not him. He had asked me to betray my Master... I had never heard stories of slaves doing so before. Except... Slaves in Soladovia would not consider betraying their Masters for the simple fact that their Masters held the key to their collars. If I did as Lord Dodd asked, and his plan worked, he would have my key. I would be safe, just like he said.

I had still not made up my mind by the time morning came; I went about my duties distracted by my thoughts, my ambitions, my doubts. Lord Dodd was doubtless at the inn, where he had said he would wait for me. If I waited too long, the choice would be made for me - Lord Dodd would be gone, and the opportunity lost. I do not know if I ever actually made the decision to attempt it, even when I found myself, later that day, standing outside my Master's study. My Master was meeting with a guest. I was supposed to be washing linens. Instead, I was here. I opened the door and stepped inside, and at that moment, I was committed.

I had never been in the study before; my Master rarely called for us when he was here, and I had never been sent to clean it. It was a large room, with a magnificently carved wooden desk featured predominantly against the far wall. I walked to it quickly, and carefully looked through the books and papers atop it. I did not see a ledger among them. Even just being caught here would be disastrous; I did not have time to linger any longer than I had to, and so I began pulling open drawers and sifting through the contents. I did my best to conceal that anyone had been there, but there was only so much that I could do. I could not back out now. After searching seven drawers with no ledger to be found, I began to wonder if Lord Dodd was wrong and it was not here at all, but the eighth drawer that I tried was locked. I hurriedly pulled the rest open; it was the only locked one among them. If there was anything to find, this was where it would be.

I had not seen a key on the desk, nor would I have expected to... that would be too simple. I looked through my Master's things, and found a letter opener; I slid it in beside the drawer and tried to use it to pry the drawer free, but all I managed to accomplish was damaging the wooden trim. More evidence I would leave behind. I was beginning to panic; I was beginning to make mistakes.

I got down on my knees and tried to look into the keyhole; I could see the lock's mechanisms inside, but I did not know how they worked. I tried to slide the letter opener into the keyhole, but it would not fit. I tried one of my own claws, and was able to slip it inside, to feel the intricate device moving at my touch, but it would not turn. I jiggled my claw around inside, pushing here and there, twisting and turning, but the tip of my claw broke off in the keyhole; I had accomplished nothing. I was quickly growing frustrated, and I felt fear rise up inside me. I did not know how long I had, but it felt like I had been here for a very long time already. I had to hurry. My fear and frustration was making me careless. I made a fist and hit the drawer, as hard as I could.

It did not budge; I struck it again, and a third time. My hand stung, and by the fifth strike, blood oozed from between cracked scales on my knuckles. After the seventh strike, however, I heard the wood crack, and the eighth blow stove in the front of the drawer entirely. I pulled out the contents quickly; rolls of paper, my Master's House seal, and a brown leather-bound book. It had to be the ledger.

I opened it and thumbed through it... it was very similar to the one Lord Dodd had shown me. This had to be what he wanted. I kept thumbing through the pages... There were so many of them. It was much longer than the page Lord Dodd had overseen me copying. How could I copy this entire book? It was an impossible task. I looked at the desk; the damaged drawer could not be hidden. I could not believe I had been so impetuous, so caught up in the moment. I could not stay here. I would take the ledger with me, and flee. It was the only way out of this.

My heart felt like it would beat its way out of my chest as I exited the study and closed the door behind me. I held the ledger in one hand, pressed against my side, hoping that if I was spotted, it might not be immediately obvious that I had anything I should not. The hidden slaves' passages through the house afforded me a measure of security, and I made my way through the labyrinthine corridors, desperate to escape. I turned the last corner that would lead to the rear exit from the manor, and found myself face to face with Xil-Narish.

She had been working in the kitchens that day, and was carrying a tray of freshly baked bread. The corridor was not wide enough for the two of us to comfortably pass one another. I tried not to look at her; I flattened myself against the wall as best I could so that she could slip past me, but she paused as she did so. She had taken notice of my bleeding hand.

"I had an accident," I hastily explained. "I am going to the kitchens to clean it." She doubted me, I could tell.

"Setha-Vim?" she asked. She sounded concerned. "Are you sure everything is alright? Let me come help you." I do not know if she thought I needed assistance, or if she suspected I was up to something and wanted to keep an eye on me. Neither would have surprised me, but I could not afford to be delayed by her sympathy nor subject to her scrutiny at that moment. I hastily pushed the rest of the way past her, and in doing so, I accidentally knocked a few loaves from her platter. She called after me, but I turned the corner and ran for the door.

I was sure she would follow me, but I could not run once I had made it into the alley behind the manor - slaves simply did not run in the city; it would draw attention onto me immediately. I forced myself to slow to a brisk walk, clutching the ledger tightly under my arm, trying my hardest to appear that I had somewhere I was supposed to be, and something I was supposed to be doing. The inn was not far; I had only to make it there, and I would be safe. All would be well. I was sure of it. I passed others - human and Xithuatlian alike - in the streets, but I did not slow, did not speak... I simply kept walking. None of them so much as looked at me. For once, being a Xithuatlian in Soladovia was working in my favor. Slaves attract little notice, doubly so in the city. We are unimportant. We are invisible.

I knocked on the door to the room where Lord Dodd had said he would be, and waited. I had to clasp my hands tightly together in front of me to keep them from shaking. It took every bit of willpower I could muster to resist the urge to look around. If I was being followed, there was nothing I could do about it now, and if I acted suspiciously, it would attract attention. I do not know how long I stood there. It was probably little more than a minute, but it felt far longer, and when the door opened and I saw Lord Dodd step aside to grant me entrance, I nearly fell through the door in my haste. He greeted me in a friendly manner. He had a cup of some beverage in his hands, and gestured to a chair, inviting me to sit. He seemed perfectly calm.

"Did you find the ledger?" he asked me. There was not even a hint of urgency in his voice. I nodded and held the book up to him. His brow furrowed as he took it from me, and flipped through its pages. "Setha-Vim," he said. "Did I not tell you to make a copy of the ledger? This is not your writing." I nodded, and slumped into the chair he had offered to me. I rested my elbows on my knees, and laid my head in my hands, trying to calm myself.

"You did, Lord Dodd," I said to him, "but I could not. There was not enough time to do it; it is very long, and I had a hard time getting it... the drawer was locked, and he would have known I had been there even if I had tried to put it back..."

He waved a hand, cutting me off. "He will certainly know you were there now," he said. He sounded much less cordial than he had when I had met with him in my Master's house. "Is this your blood?" he asked me, examining the cover of the ledger. "I had thought that you were more discerning than this, Setha-Vim. Does anyone know that you came here?"

I shook my head... In truth, I was not certain, but I was unwilling to disclose any more of my failures. He nodded. "Well, at least there is that," he said, thumbing through the book. "This will work... but I will have to change my plans. I cannot stay here in the city; not now. He will doubtless be looking for this, and I do not intend to be here when he finds out what happened to it."

I looked up at him. I felt a tightness in the pit of my stomach. "I can come with you?" I asked. "You will get my key from him? Like you said you would?"

"It is not that simple anymore," he said. I felt like my worst fear was being realized. "Negotiation is a delicate dance, Setha-Vim. I go to see him one last time before I leave. Through subtly dropped hints, I let him know that I know what he has been up to, without telling him how I know, or who else knows. I tell him that I hope his business continues to be profitable... and I compliment him on his House slaves. I comment - a simple remark, really - that I wish I had a slave like you to accompany me on my travels. He generously offers to 'lend' you to me, as a sign of good will between us. I graciously accept. This is how it works. It is about keeping up appearances."

"Now, though, the subtlety is lost. A great storm has swept through his House. His ledger is missing, and he knows it. He found blood there. You are missing. He knows what has happened. If I go to see him, he will know who you have brought his ledger to, if he does not suspect it already. He will not deal with me; he will call the authorities. I will be detained. Searched. They will find his ledger. I will have to explain how I came into possession of it. You will be returned to him... or jailed, or executed, or whatever it is they do with you when you have worn out your usefulness. I will be fined, I will be sent away, and I will not be welcome in Soladovia again. My reputation will be ruined. Do you understand, Setha-Vim? This serves neither of our needs."

I looked up at him in disbelief. I pushed myself from the chair, dropped to my knees on the floor at his feet. I looked up at him, pleaded with him to reconsider. To find a way. There had to be a way. I prostrated myself before him, my vision blurred by tears of fear and frustration. He would not budge.

He looked down at me pityingly. "No, Setha-Vim. There is simply not a way. I will take this ledger, and I will return to Osciadour. Once there, safely ensconced behind our borders, I will make my move. I will be beyond his influence, there, but he will know it is coming. He will have time to cover his tracks. This will not be fast, and it will not be clean."

I barely heard what he was saying. I did not care about his business, or what unlawful acts he believed he had caught my Master engaging in. I could focus on only one thing: I was in a lot of trouble, and I did not know how I could possibly escape it. I asked him what I was to do, now.

"Do as you wish, Setha-Vim, but I cannot take you with me. Slaves are not permitted in Osciadour; I have told you this, and even if they were, without your key, your collar would ensure you were of little use to me. I cannot have you drawing attention to me as I leave." He looked down at me as my tears stained the carpet at his feet; I must have looked utterly pathetic.

"You told me Lord Ocroth has been over-winding your collar," he continued. "How long was it that you have? An extra day?" I looked up at him and nodded. "Very well," he continued. "I will pay for this room for another day. You may remain here. If I am able to conclude my negotiations with Lord Ocroth in that time, I will return. I can offer you nothing more, Setha-Vim."

He had told me of his home in Osciadour. It was more than a day's journey from here. There was no chance that he could travel home, do whatever it was he intended to do, and return to the city in a single day; it was simply not possible. I knew it, and I am certain that he knew that I knew it. He was not truly offering me hope... he was offering to let me die here, alone, in this room.

---

He left shortly thereafter, with the ledger and all of his belongings. True to his word, he paid for the room before he left, and I remained behind in it. I had never felt such hopelessness before, such dread, such inevitability. I had never been so alone. Not just by myself, physically distant from others, human or Xithuatlian, but truly alone. I had no one I could go to, no one I could talk to. No one I could ask for advice, or share my sorrow with. I had never realized before that moment just how much I relied on others' support. Before my capture, I had almost never been alone, either physically or emotionally. Xithuatlians value community above all else; our relationships with each other are our most treasured asset. We build on each others' strengths, and shore up each others' weaknesses. Together, we are strong, but alone... alone, I am weak.

I had never had to come to terms with my weakness before that moment. I sat on the floor, my head in my hands, my back resting against the sole armchair in the inn room. I could have sat on the chair. Slaves were not allowed to sit on their Masters' furniture... but I was alone. I was, at that moment, a runaway. My Master was not present, nor was anyone else to tell me not to. Why, then, was I sitting on the floor, my knees pulled up against my chest, my tail wrapped around me on the ground?

I had been a slave for more than ten years. Ten years of being told where to go, what to do, when to do it. Of being under someone else's control. Of having no true freedom. No rights. No possessions. I was a possession. I thought that I had learned to accept that reality... I thought myself stoic, resolute. That I was the same Xithuatlian I had been, with the same values, the same morals, the same principles. I was wrong.

I had spent many a night during my time in Soladovia dreaming about freedom, about escaping my collar and my Master and fleeing back to the jungle. About rescuing the other slaves, about setting things right. Going back to the way things used to be. More recently, I had dreamed about fleeing my Master's House, using the extra time he had added to my collar to find a way to remove it. Of finding my key, taking it, and reclaiming my fate for myself. I was certain that when the time came, I would know what to do.

There on the floor of that dark, empty room, I did not feel strong, or independent, or free. I felt sick. I could hardly think straight. I did not even know how to begin. I kept thinking of the faces and names of other Xithuatlians I had known, wishing they were there. Wishing I could ask them for advice, or for assistance. I wanted - I needed - someone to tell me it would be alright... that there was a way out of this.

So there I sat, melancholy clouding my thoughts, pacified by a pervasive feeling of helplessness. As night fell and darkness enveloped me, I succumbed to a fitful sleep fraught with unpleasant dreams. I had passed the threshold at which my collar should have ended my brief rebellion. I was living on borrowed time.

Light was already flooding into the room when I awoke. It was an uncomfortable feeling. I did not belong in this inn room... inn rooms were not for slaves. Not for slaves who were not attending their Masters. Not for me. I half expected someone to come in at any moment, tell me I did not belong there, and make me leave. In truth, I wished someone would, just so I would be forced to act, forced to do something. Instead, I laid there, paralyzed by feelings I did not even understand.

I do not expect you to appreciate why I did what I did. I myself did not know why I did it, either, but I will try to explain it anyway. I had been reliant on others for so long, I had lost my ability to truly be independent. I could not think of possible avenues of escape without being crippled by doubt, fear, and an overwhelming feeling that what I was doing was wrong.

A long time ago, back in the slave-takers' camp, I had learned the value of having a routine. Every day was the same... I did not have to think about it. I went through the motions. We did not think for ourselves. We did not act for ourselves. We did as we were told. This had become my way of life. I had embraced the routine, and each time I was sold to a new Master, I found a new one, and I acted it out, every day, until I was given yet another new routine to follow. It was beaten into us, physically and mentally.

Somewhere in those last ten years, they had broken me. I do not know when it happened, but I had lost a piece of myself... I was not the independent, confident Xithuatlian that I thought I was... that I had once been. I was a slave, a tool. I no longer possessed the ability to think for myself, to act for myself. It had been taken from me. Perhaps Lord Dodd recognized this... perhaps that is why he chose me, groomed me, convinced me to act for him. I had thought I was taking my fate into my own hands, but I had merely placed it into his. He had used me like a tool, and now he had discarded me like one.

I stayed in that inn room for hours, the little time I had passing me by. I hoped that maybe, if I waited long enough, Lord Dodd would return, my key in hand, but I knew that he would not. I wished someone would come to make me leave, to take me away... but they did not. I wanted someone - anyone - to solve this problem for me. I tried to muster the courage, the initiative to solve it for myself, but I could not.

By mid day, I had accomplished nothing, tried nothing. In a few more hours, my time would run out. I wondered where my Master's other slaves were, what they were doing. Had they told our Master that I had fled? Doubtless they had. Were they looking for me? Probably not. Why would they? As far as any of them knew, I was dead. I wished they were looking for me... that they would find me, take me back there, put me to work. I wished I had never left. Do not misunderstand me - I hated our Master, as I hated all of the humans who had enslaved us... but I hated what I was experiencing now even more.

I considered simply going back. Telling them I had been forced to do what I had done, that Lord Dodd had somehow coerced me. That he had kidnapped me. I could tell them what Lord Dodd planned. Maybe things could go back to the way they were. I tried to decide what I would tell them. I had broken into my Master's desk. I had stolen his ledger. What excuse could I possibly make?

I could tell him Lord Dodd had threatened to do something worse if I did not comply. That I had to do it, and could not tell anyone, or ask for help. No. There is no threat he could have made that would justify what I had done. Over the next hour, a half dozen other ideas came into being one at a time, and were summarily dismissed. The simple fact of the matter was that there was nothing that could adequately explain what I had done. No scenario where my actions were in any way right. No possible way out for me. Except for one.

I felt numb as I walked through the city streets, retracing the path I had taken the previous day, this time in reverse. I paid no attention to the other people in the streets, human or Xithuatlian. My hands shook, and I had difficulty focusing my thoughts. I just walked, and barely registered my surroundings until I found myself standing once again in the alley beside my Master's manor, in front of the door I had used to make my escape.

I took a deep breath, and put my hand on the door knob. I felt like a failure. I had daydreamed for more than ten years of escaping my captivity, and when the opportunity - however brief - had come, I had squandered it. Of all the places I could have gone, I came back here. I opened the door and walked inside.

Tavi-il-Riza looked up from his task when I entered, a surprised look on his face. "Setha-Vim?!" he said, and turned to Xil-Narish, who was working nearby. "Go and get our Master," he said. Xil-Narish nodded and hurried from the room.

I stood there, my eyes on the floor. I could not bear to answer him... I had no words to explain my actions. I could not even look at him. I had made up my mind. Our Master would be here soon. I would beg him to take me back. I would beg with all the conviction I could muster to forgive my transgressions and, when that failed, I would beg him to kill me quickly."

• Setha-Vim