“And you, take a seat as well.”
The accountant, an elderly man wearing glasses, perched on the edge of a chair. His name was Sat, and unlike the steward, Hapir Ves, who worked for a salary, he was a slave. Hapir sat comfortably in the second-largest chair; the largest, of course, was occupied by Axeliy. Now, Axeliy spoke:
“To start with, I need you both to explain and show me on paper what exactly I now own… I understand about this house. But that’s just a small part. I want to know everything. Who’ll begin?”
Sat gestured toward the steward. Clearly, he thought Hapir should speak first, perhaps as a free man, or as the one who made many decisions while Sat, the accountant, merely recorded the results in the ledgers. Axeliy had to admit there was some logic to that. Meanwhile, Hapir asked:
“Would you like to hear about the trading house first, the lands, or… the treasury here in the house, sir?”
“We’ll get to the treasury soon, all of us together. Once we’re done here. I want to see it with my own eyes, and I’m sure you understand why.” He smiled, and both men returned the smile. Though Hapir’s was ingratiating, Sat’s… well, it was more indulgent. At his age, he could afford that—Axeliy was practically a child to him. Besides, what could the new master do to him? His situation couldn’t get much worse; he was already a slave. Axeliy decided he’d ask, at some point, how Sat had ended up in bondage. There was no reason to punish him, and managing the estate without his help would be far more difficult. Both men were, for now, almost indispensable. “But for the moment… I want a general idea of what I’ve got and how everything works. The trading house, as I understand it, isn’t just a trading house—it also owns a fleet of merchant ships, right?”
“Exactly,” the steward nodded. “And if you intend to handle matters yourself, sir, you’ll need to meet with the captains. At the very least, with the head of the captains’ council for the trading house. Because if the captains and crews refuse to transport your goods…”
“Fair enough, I’ll do that. Probably tomorrow,” Axeliy nodded. “But for now, tell me what else there is besides the trading house…”
“It’s all connected, sir. Your lands… they’re leased to farmers and planters who pay a portion of their harvest. The trading house sells that, along with other goods. And then there are properties here in the city…”
“Right, the workshop… where I used to work, it’s in one of those buildings.” That had been one of the links in the chain of events that nearly got Axeliy killed. “By the way, I’ll need to… move it here. Are there any empty spaces near the stables?”
“There are. But… are you really planning to keep working yourself, sir?” Hapir asked, surprised. “Yourself… at a workbench?”
“Sometimes. For pleasure, or when I come up with something new. Where I come from, or rather, in a neighboring country, there was once a king who loved working on a lathe. And one time, he even played the part of a pilot in front of a foreign captain. His queen helped him pull it off, inviting the captain over as a guest…” Axeliy smiled again. “And if you’re worried about someone seeing me… it’s more likely to happen if I keep going back there.”
“You have no idea how quickly the people here will spread the word to the whole city, sir,” Sat said, shaking his head, to Axeliy’s surprise. Then again, he lived among the other slaves and probably knew… “Though you’re right. Even if they find out… what of it?”
“So, we’ll need to take care of that in the next few days. But let’s get back to business. I understand the tenants, since I was one myself not long ago. But as for the trading house… what exactly do we trade in?”
They traded in everything. From grain to textiles, from lead to gold, from axes to swords. The only exception was anything related to firearms—primitive, in Axeliy’s view, cannons, muskets, and pistols—which were under a state monopoly. Thanks to that, he’d made a decent living until recently.
It took nearly until evening to get a handle on things—or at least to grasp the basics of who did what around here. They explained everything. Sat was invaluable, consulting his records on rolled-up sheets of paper when needed. Watching him struggle to make out the numbers in yet another column, Axeliy asked:
“Is your eyesight that bad?”
“I can manage…” Sat replied nervously, but his master interrupted:
“Who made your glasses?”
“Doctor Sagor Unfa makes them for almost everyone in the city who needs them, sir. But that was a long time ago…”
“Go to him and have a new pair made. Add it to the budget. I need you to see clearly what you’re counting.”
“Thank you, sir!”
“Now, let’s open the door to the treasury.”
The accountant and the steward each held a key to one of the locks on the door. They couldn’t access the treasury unless either the master requested it or they conspired together—an almost unthinkable scenario given their differing statuses and the severe consequences of theft.
Moreover, until today, the city guard had been overseeing the property of the arrested man. As a result, all the gold ingots and silver coins, stacked in neat piles on their designated shelves in this windowless room—where candles were necessary for light—were accounted for. Then Axeliy pointed to a small iron-bound chest:
“And what’s in here?”
“Jewelry, sir. They… were passed down to our former master, Gveran Olt, from his parents, and to them from their parents,” Sat explained. “Would you like to open it?”
“I want to move this chest to the room where we’ve been sitting,” Axeliy said, shaking his head. “And… leave the key with me. We’ll return everything tomorrow.”
Old Sat couldn’t lift the heavy chest, so they had to call Avir. But it was done quickly—there’s something to be said for just giving orders—and the chest was placed near the table. Hapir Ves and Avir watched all this with surprise, while Sat gave a barely perceptible nod, as if he understood something the others didn’t.
Then the accountant and Avir left. The steward, who remained in the room, spoke up:
“Allow me to ask you directly, sir…”
“I’m listening.” Axeliy felt a bit uneasy that a man older than him addressed him so formally. He’d have to get used to his new position.
“From what you’ve said, it seems nothing will change for Sat, except for new glasses. He really does need them. But… what about me? I understand that to you, I’m… Gveran Olt’s man, someone you don’t feel any goodwill toward. But I’m not a slave who came to you along with the rest of the property… If you decide to dismiss me… I only ask to be warned in advance.”
“I’m not planning to change anything right now,” Axeliy said, shaking his head. “And I… need someone who knows how things work, what’s functioning and what isn’t. Not from Sat’s perspective… So, if you promise to be loyal to me, I’ll keep you in your position. Until I find out you’re betraying or stealing from me. If that happens, the punishment will be standard. So, don’t do it.”
“I’m… incredibly grateful, sir. I have a family to feed, four children…”
“Then think of them. Tomorrow, start by talking to the debtors. I’d really prefer not to have to lock anyone in the basement over debts. That’s all for today.”
“And you…”
“I’m heading down to the basement right now.”
“I understand, sir…”
Hapir left, and Axeliy called for Avir. Together, they began descending the stairs.
The basement was a grim place. But at least it was dry. Brick floors, brick walls, brick arches, and not a drop of water seeping through. As Axeliy had suspected, the basement extended not just under the house but beneath the entire courtyard. There were rooms for storing various supplies, including food, from which the cooks had prepared today’s lunch and dinner. In two rooms, wine bottles lined the shelves. He wondered where they got it and what it was made from. He’d have to ask. The light wine, almost like juice, that he’d had with lunch had been to his liking.
But all of this was just interesting trivia. And a way to delay visiting a place that could only be called a dungeon. Everyone knew that wealthy houses had such spaces: the master had the right to hold debtors here. And also slaves who’d done something wrong. Or, for instance, a thief caught in the act.
Axeliy himself had been thrown down here on Gveran Olt’s orders, and it was the city guard who’d pulled him out—barely alive after the torture he’d endured at the master’s command. As he’d later been told, Gveran had grown arrogant and crossed every line by treating a free man, who didn’t even owe him money, in such a way. He’d probably assumed no one would stand up for a foreigner. But things hadn’t gone as planned, and now Gveran was sailing on a ship, set to be dropped off on wild shores inhabited by barbarians. If he tried to return, death would await him… Though it wasn’t clear what he’d prefer if given the choice.
And right now, here in the basement, was Aratta.
“Why is she even down here?” Axeliy asked. “After all, none of you are locked up…” He meant the slaves who continued to work in the house.
“But we haven’t done anything like…” Avir shrugged. “The lady… at first, she tried to sneak into the prison to see her husband. Honestly, everyone was afraid she’d arrange an escape for him. Then she started saying things… The guard found out. And a few days ago… they decided to lock her up. So she wouldn’t say anything that would force someone to…”
“I get it.” This wasn’t just a harsh world, as Axeliy had been warned when they made him the offer… Among other things, equality between men and women was unthinkable in some respects. And if a woman insulted a man… If it was her own father or husband, they were expected to punish her. If it was an outsider, he had the right to demand she be handed over for retribution. The severity of the punishment depended on the severity of the insult. Axeliy had already heard rumors about what Aratta had said about him after the incident. If she said it to his face, he’d have no choice but to kill her. As the law stated, in a manner he deemed sufficient. “I can even imagine what you did just now to at least delay… Right? Did her father… ask you to do this?” Most likely, the request came with a few silver coins.
“What’s done is done, sir,” Avir said, bowing his head. “But he passed on that you wouldn’t…”
“I won’t, as long as you don’t tell anyone. Let’s go.”
There was a row of wooden doors with bolts. Two people met them there: a guard in light armor—heavy armor was unnecessary here—and a woman, slightly older than Axeliy, dressed in a simple fabric gown typical of slave women.
“Tell me, Skenshi,” Avir said. She looked at Axeliy with dark eyes—everything was clearly visible in the candlelight—and replied:
“She’s here, sir. We figured you’d want to see her before… And to make sure she doesn’t say something that would force you to immediately consider… a harsh solution, we had to gag her.”
Skenshi said this with complete calm, and Axeliy wondered: did she take pleasure in doing this to her former mistress? Of course, she’d also received money from Latir Isar, but it was unlikely he’d suggested this exact approach. Though perhaps there was no other way.
“I hope you did the right thing,” he said. Then he nodded to the guard. “Open it.”
The guard pushed against the bolt, and the heavy wooden door creaked open. Axeliy gestured for the others to stay in the corridor and stepped inside alone.
It was, indeed, like a small prison cell, complete with all the trappings, including a barred window near the ceiling that let in some light. But here, at least, something had been done to make the prisoner a bit more comfortable. They’d even brought bedding from her former room, he realized immediately. Right now, she was sitting on the wooden bed. There was little else for Aratta to do but wait for her fate.
They’d left her in her own clothes. A light dress, like a sundress, made of expensive and warm fabric—it wasn’t exactly cozy in the basement. Aratta’s hands were behind her back, likely tied. And in her mouth was some dark cloth to keep her from speaking.
It was clear why. One look into her bright blue eyes was enough. They conveyed everything Aratta wanted to say to—and about—him. Axeliy stood for a moment, studying her. He knew that back where he’d come from, she’d barely be of legal age—it seemed years were counted the same there as here. But she’d been married for nearly two years, as decided by her father and Gveran Olt. Looking at the young woman now, he finally realized who—or what—she reminded him of. A natural blonde with a very slim waist and… quite prominent features where a woman should have them, Aratta looked too much like the girls depicted by video game artists in the world he’d left behind, almost caricatured… Except she was real. And she was looking at him as if, were she a man, she’d challenge him to a fight to the death.
Axeliy took a few steps and sat down beside her. Aratta turned her head toward him, casting another glance, but shifted away slightly, as if avoiding contact he hadn’t even attempted. He sat in silence for a moment, then spoke in a low voice so those outside couldn’t hear.
“Listen to me. I know what you want to say. And I don’t want to hear it, so I won’t be forced to do something I’d rather avoid. I want to avoid it not just because your father asked me to—I have plenty of reasons… If you think I’m enjoying seeing you here, know that I’m not. I’d rather not be sitting here right now; I’d rather be in my workshop. But after what your husband did… Still, it’s not your fault! When… I agreed in court to, as they called it, become him, I didn’t even know… that he’d paid a dowry to marry you. Your father told me that later, and it surprised me. I assumed you’d return to his house. But now… I’m forced to decide what to do with you.”
He saw the change in Aratta’s gaze. Defiance and rage began to give way to surprise. But why was she so surprised? Because he was speaking? Or simply because he hadn’t immediately started tearing off her clothes? Most local men in his position probably would have. After all, she was now his property too… He could do whatever he wanted, and no one would judge him, neither by law nor otherwise. Instead, a quiet voice and a gentle tone… Definitely a foreigner. But it was still too soon to let her respond. Axeliy noticed her elbows and wrists were bound with S-shaped plates—gold, it seemed. Well, this was a wealthy house… Even in this. He hoped they’d done this just before he came down to the basement, not earlier in the day.
And most importantly… It seemed Aratta had thought… that he’d ended up here, agreed to take on everything his tormentor had owned, deliberately to get her, to humiliate her, and perhaps to take revenge. But it turned out he didn’t even consider her guilty, and he’d only learned of her situation afterward. That’s why her gaze had changed. Meanwhile, he continued:
“And believe me, I understand you. Not long ago, you were a wife who thought her husband loved her, the mistress of a grand house, and now… But this isn’t pleasant for me either. Still… I can tell you this: in truth, Gveran Olt didn’t love you. He might have said so to you and your father. But really… he combined pleasure with prestige by marrying the daughter of Chief Latir. Don’t believe me? I can prove it to you. Even right now, if you come with me… just to the study. And don’t resist or try to run. After that… you’ll make your decision, and I’ll make mine. I hope it won’t be a forced one.”
Aratta didn’t dare nod, but from her gaze and posture, Axeliy could see he’d gained her agreement. Standing up, he took her by the elbow, but in a way that carried no hint of… intent. She looked at him again, even more surprised. But she walked beside him. First through the basement corridor, then up the stairs. The guard stayed at his post, while Avir and Skenshi followed at a distance. They were likely surprised when the master and Aratta headed straight to the study. Axeliy closed the door behind them and seated her in the chair where the steward had sat earlier. Aratta couldn’t understand what was happening. She’d only been in her husband’s study a handful of times; he’d believed a woman, especially a young one, had no business meddling in affairs. And this man… What did he want? Axeliy, still speaking quietly, explained:
“Yes, Gveran said he loved you… But that wasn’t true. Look here. You like jewelry, don’t you? All women do, and you’re no exception: I’ve seen you in the city, seen how you wear them, how you change them. Probably something you kept from your life in your father’s house. Maybe your husband gave you some too. But you don’t even know what he had, what was passed down to him from his parents, and to them from theirs. There was no one else to wear it. But… he never even showed it to you. If someone loves you, do they hide things that could adorn you and bring you joy? Don’t believe me? Look.” Axeliy inserted the key and lifted the lid of the chest nearby.
At that moment, he watched Aratta’s face. It changed… several times. First, it was almost a natural reaction for a woman seeing such treasure… that could be worn… For a second, it seemed she forgot about the gag in her mouth and her hands bound behind her, about her fate… Then she turned her head to Axeliy, and he was struck by her gaze. There was a bitterness in it that he thought he’d never seen in his life. And also—resignation. Finally, Aratta decided to show what decision she’d made. And… she knelt.
“So, you won’t say anything that would force me to do something we’d all regret?” he asked. Aratta shook her head. “Alright, I’ll trust you.” He approached and carefully pulled the gag from her mouth.
When she spoke her first words, her voice trembled:
“How should I address… sir?”
“I have a name, and you know it,” Axeliy said with a gentle smile. “I don’t want to be someone you hate, an enemy you can’t escape from. Because… what other choice do we have? I won’t… kill you, and I don’t want to… turn you into someone’s slave.”
“But… do you like me?” Aratta asked, her voice tinged with uncertainty. Axeliy’s gaze shifted from her face… lower… before he answered honestly:
“Yes.”
“Then what are you waiting for?” She genuinely didn’t understand.
“Because I’m not used to, and don’t want to, do this by force. I’m going to unbend these plates now… Turn around,” he said, and she complied. A moment later, she was rubbing one wrist with the fingers of her other hand. But she looked at Axeliy… and now he couldn’t quite decipher what was in that gaze. Then Aratta spoke:
“But even now, you’re not doing anything…”
“Because I don’t want you to…”
“I understand. And I submit to the inevitable,” she said, stepping closer.
“Not here, though,” Axeliy smiled.
“Then… let’s go somewhere we can.”
They left the room and saw that Avir and Skenshi were waiting… probably, if things had gone differently, to take Aratta back to the basement. But that wasn’t necessary. Axeliy said:
“Avir, dismiss the guard who was in the basement… Tell him I said he’s no longer needed. And tomorrow… inform everyone to follow Aratta’s instructions as they did before, unless I say otherwise. Understood?”
“Yes… I’m glad, sir.” Avir bowed, and he and Skenshi left. Axeliy took Aratta by the arm, and they began ascending the stairs to the top floor—where the bedroom was.
Waking up, he felt someone holding his hand. As if… checking his pulse? Then Axeliy remembered where he was, who he was with, and, for that matter, who he was now. Once again, the thought flickered through his mind: had he truly woken up, or… was he only dreaming that he had? Would he actually wake up in his apartment in a concrete high-rise, with, of course, no Aratta beside him? But for now, he needed to push that aside. Because… she’d realized he was awake, took his hand… and placed it where men usually found it pleasant to rest their hand.
“Well, good morning to you too!” Axeliy said. She touched his lips with a finger from her other hand, then… gave him a look that left only one thing to do. But what was in that look? Not just an invitation. Though… it seemed to be enjoyable for both of them. But there was also despair in her eyes. When, at last, he was standing on the bedroom floor beside the bed while Aratta still lay on her back, gazing up at the canopy supported by four carved wooden posts, he noticed it again. Even more so. And he said:
“Don’t you want breakfast?”
“I do,” Aratta replied. Short, just one word. But she didn’t change her position, only now looked into his eyes. With that same gaze. Surprised that he was looking at her face and not… where one might expect.
“Then get up and get dressed. Tell me what you want to eat; the cooks are probably already in place and waiting. And after that… you’ll tell me what’s going on.” There was a commanding tone in Axeliy’s voice.
“What did you mean?” Aratta finally asked, sipping light wine. Axeliy preferred to abstain at breakfast, but the people of this world seemed to drink wine instead of water. Or beer. What they called strong wine was, in Axeliy’s view, more like vodka. Maybe moonshine—he wasn’t a connoisseur of such drinks and hadn’t been interested in how they were made. Though now he’d have to be, he thought, since it was one of the goods his trading house sold.
“Yesterday, you said you were submitting to the inevitable. If you think I enjoyed hearing that, you’re wrong. But… I hoped you did it without disgust. That I… convinced you yesterday. But today, you looked at me in a way that… What do you really want?”
“You didn’t understand, Axeliy.” She shook her head. “In truth, you… I know you did everything you could for me. And, honestly, I… felt a fondness for you even back then, during that dispute over the workshop. That’s why I asked Hapir to take your side. But Gveran sensed something, though I never even considered… doing anything like that… But he decided to kill you. Because of me. I knew that. I put you in that position, but I put myself there too. I had no way out. Honestly… yes, I did hope that Gveran married me for more than just my father… But when they banished him as if he were dead to us… For me, that was worse than dying. I knew I’d ruined him—because I should’ve realized he’d do something like that—and you, and myself. Only for me, it would end… worse than death. That’s why I decided… from the start, to insult you so badly that you’d be forced to kill me. And to hope you’d do it quickly, even if before that you wanted to do what any man might want… But you don’t want to kill anyone. You’re not like our men. Maybe because you’re a foreigner… That’s what I meant by submitting to the inevitable. Not to being with you. But to living.”
“But what were you so afraid of?” Axeliy asked, surprised.
“I wasn’t afraid. I know what will happen… Ending up… at the slave market on the outskirts. Right now… I’m not exactly a slave, but I’m part of… what you have a right to, aren’t I? I still have a name, but now I have no surname, because I lost my husband’s, and I haven’t regained my father’s. Just a name, like slaves… And do you know what happens when someone like me ends up there? How the seller will… display the merchandise? Do you know why they buy women like me? To… be a plaything for some old widower, or, conversely, as a gift for a growing son, to… have fun with and learn something… before he marries. That’s the worst. Because before his wedding… such a slave is most likely killed. So as not to annoy the young bride. I know this…”
“I understand why you’d fear that. Especially when you were just a mistress, to end up there… But why do you think that’ll happen now? Do you really think… I’d do that to you?” he asked, astonished. Aratta gave a sad smile.
“You really don’t understand, foreigner? I guess not… How long have you been here, six months? I grew up in the house of Chief Latir, and then I was the wife of Gveran Olt, head of a trading house. I know what will happen. Do you think they just banished Gveran, as if he were dead, for your sake? For a foreigner who has no one, who, if he disappeared, almost no one would even remember? Do you realize who Gveran was? Not just a wealthy merchant, no. His ancestors were in the Council of Nine. And he himself was set to join it in a few years, when one of the older members died or stepped down. But… he was unstable, considered dangerous… So they used this case… to remove Gveran and, at the same time, seize everything he had. If he’d killed you, it would’ve been even simpler—they’d have just executed him, and his property would’ve been confiscated. I’d be… standing in that market right now… But you survived. In court, they gave you a choice, as the law requires. You decided to take everything Gveran had—I believe you didn’t know… that you had a right to me… But now that doesn’t matter. They can’t take the trading house right away or destroy it to eliminate a competitor. They’ll have to kill you. Since you have no heirs, everything will go to the city. Maybe in a month, maybe in six months, maybe in a year. But they’ll get their way. You won’t be able to do anything about it, and I… will be sold as part of what was once your property. Neither you nor I can avoid this. So, since you didn’t want to kill me anyway… and made sure I wouldn’t force you to, I submitted to the inevitable. And now all we can do… is wait. And try to get something out of life while we still can.”
What Aratta said didn’t match the setting of this table with good food and good wine. Nor did her voice, which carried an immense weariness. Of course, if she’d spent the entire month since Gveran Olt ordered Axeliy’s abduction thinking only about this. And blaming herself. Seeing no way out…
As for Axeliy, after hearing this, he fell into deep thought. It sounded logical—from what he’d learned about life here. But logical from the perspective of a young woman who found herself no longer a wife, yet not quite a slave. Axeliy Mar, on the other hand, had a different perspective. Plus, contrary to the stereotypes about blondes in the world he’d left behind, Aratta was far from foolish, and that was a good thing. Finally pouring himself some of the light wine—which you couldn’t get drunk on unless you downed several bottles—he replied quietly but seriously:
“I understand what you’re trying to say. And you’re right about a lot of it. But… they know nothing about me, about what I know, what I can do, or the place I came from. Yes, I have no one here—except you—but I also owe nothing to anyone. And besides… where I come from, there are games… far more complex than what you’re talking about.” How could he explain what a computer was to someone from this world? he wondered. No, better not to try. Maybe it was best not to even think about it himself. “Yes, they’re games, and here it’s real. But if you’re going to play, then play! I already lost my health to Gveran, but I won his wealth. And you, too. Now I just need to win my life. You need to not lose your freedom. Which means we’re together, on the same team. You have to help me so we both win. Are you in?”
“You talk strangely… about a game.” Aratta paused, clearly weighing her options. She also thought about how, for the first time in her life, someone had offered her a role in something… Normally, a woman was just a daughter, then a wife; in a simple family, she might manage the household, but in a wealthy one, even that wasn’t necessary. Just be with her husband, bear children… But she wasn’t a wife to Axeliy, and he was offering her a part in something serious… Even if the stakes for him were his life, and for her, something greater. “But if it’s a game to you… If we lose, we just go back to what I said, right?” Axeliy nodded, pleased at how quickly she’d reached the right conclusion. “But at least it’ll be interesting! So, really, we have nothing to lose. I’m in to help you. What do I need to do?”
“Can you write?” Axeliy asked, knowing that not everyone was taught to, especially girls. But she answered as if surprised by the question:
“Of course, I had a tutor in my father’s house.”
“Good, Aratta with no surname, daughter of Latir. Right now, while I go talk to the people working at the trading house, you sit down and write a letter to your father. First, let him know you’re alive. That you didn’t insult me, and I have no reason to kill you. That you’re staying in my house. I hope you don’t feel I’ve wronged you, and if that’s the case, write that too. Then lay out everything you told me… about what you fear. You can add that this could happen to you because he, your father, decided to take a dowry for you from Gveran back then. Let his conscience nag at him a bit, if he even has one… And that your only chance to avoid this is if I stay alive and keep what I’ve gained. That you have to help me in this, and if he loves you, he should help us both. Just don’t write that I told you to send this letter. Can you do that?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Then find Avir—I’ve ordered them to follow your instructions—and send him or someone else to deliver this letter to Chief Latir. Not too tough a task to start with, right?” Axeliy smiled.
“No. Of course, I’ll do it. And then?”
“Then—probably after lunch—we’ll head to the port.”
“We? Together?” Aratta asked, surprised. Probably her husband never took her along when handling business. If so, that wasn’t surprising…
“Yes. First, we need to… show everyone that you’re staying in this house, and with me. And second, we’ve decided to play this game together…”