His Life, His Slave

By the time his men had made their reports, his morning meal would be ready. Sometimes it was left over stew, others meat, cheese and bread, if he had found an opportunity to hunt, so there would be meat. He rarely ate at the main fires, preferring food from his own fires, prepared by his girls to his liking. While he ate he would question kasra to find out if she had anything to tell or to inquire about. The quiet girl seemed to blossom more every day and it pleased him.

One thing about her that he found to be to his liking was that the girl had an astounding memory. If you gave her a message, after only one hearing, she could repeat it back to you not only word for word, but infections included. That, coupled with the fact she was fleet of foot, served him well. She was his messenger.


And she was also his conduit to much that went on around camp. A quiet, unassuming slave was almost as good as a weapon, if you were one that wanted information. And to him, there was no such thing as too much information. And the girl had this way of separating that meaningless kibble and gossip from what she heard, and only brought things to him that were of importance to him. He had tested this, and she had always passed.


She was given her chores each day, her messages to deliver, and from time to time, she was given an assignment of just where he wanted her to be for the day. Maybe she would watch the mate of a certain outrider that he had heard rumors of being dissatisfied, and speaking out of turn. If his mate went with her friends to the stream to do laundry, kasra was to go and do his laundry, and place herself near this mate to see what information she might garner there. Women were women, and they just did not seem to be able to keep their tongues from wagging, and for the greater part, they could not keep secrets, even those told to them by their mates. There were a few exceptions to this, but precious few.



She played games with the children. You would be amazed what children overhear and incorporate into their play. People do not always pay close enough attention to children, and that was a mistake.


Did he feel any guilt about having his slave spy on his people? Not one iota. In his mind, his job was to keep the Ubar safe and to head off any problems among his people before they grew dangerous or unmanageable. Sometimes, you just had to geld the young bull, and make him a steer before its' balls got too big. Especially, if it showed signs of being a maverick bull, one that might not be contained.

Did he reward her for these duties? She was still alive, wasn't she?