Labor's Love Lost 4

“You've what?” Galnos exclaimed, shocked. Havara backed away into the corners of the large den, and frankly wondered why she was even here. She would be carrying her own children, true, but they would be put into her by some large steel bodied machine in a sterile office – not the way she'd imagined her lovemaking. Gelavghel continued to be calm before his mother, but was apparently losing the battle of wits.

“Gone into Bayaran for the sake of our children,” he finally replied. “It's a practical solution mother. Surely you see that.”

“You could have – you should have asked,” Galnos said, exasperated. “But I suppose it's too late now, we've got bills for the remodel coming in and can't spare you a dec at the moment…” Worried, Galnos cast a glance around her. The estate had stood for quite a while, but perhaps it was the sheer fertility of the soil around them that began its decay. In another few years, the building's wood might start really rotting, and they were taking preventitave measures to stop it. Importing the same wood and supplies that had built it was costing a lot more than they expected. The winery paid for it all, but narrowed their margin for error.

And apparently, Gelavghel sneered, this was part of that error…

Valnot moved around the couch, his normally grinning countenance was glum. “Why are you fighting?” He asked, and Galnos picked him up quickly and put her spotted fingers over his lips.

“It's nothing, your brother and I are having a financial discussion is all. Havara, perhaps you could help put him into bed, it's quite late – and you will be needing the experience won't you?” She tried so hard to be of a kinder tone, because it looked to Galnos that her son had almost bullied his way into her life. She rarely spoke, that Bond, so it was hard to guess what was really going on in her mind. Even though Galnos did detect a bit of resentment toward other people, Havara at heart did enjoy the time she had spent with her mate.

She obediently took Valnot from his mother, and though he fussed she made soft noises at him and soothed his curiosity by singing him a quaint lullaby. This left Galnos and her son to fume on their own.

“It's all right, I have thought it through,” Gelavghel said. “I know what I'm doing. I just want to keep my wages flowing so I will get back to work right away. And when Havara needs the time away from work I plan to apply for a legal temporary respite for her Bayaran.”

“So you plan on making your family pay for this either way you look at it?” Galnos said quietly. When she heard him about to take in that annoyed breath that he would when he was losing an argument, she abruptly put up her hand and glared at him. “You realize that this means that not only are we in fact paying your own Bayaran off for you, by having you work for us instead of simply going into proper Bond to your Breeder,” she briefly looked away, “but you'll insist that another of our good strong workers will do so as well? Why didn't you consult with us first before agreeing to this?”

“Because my life is my own to do with as I see fit, mother ,” Gelavghel said, standing and trying to contain his anger. “I earn enough to work this debt off myself. I haven't asked you because I do not want it to be your debt. It's not.” He looked toward the hallway door, where Havara was standing now clutching her arms gently to herself. “It is mine, and I intend to see it through.”

“Your father would have loved this stuff,” Ganno said to her daughter, as they sipped the spicy red-colored drink that had become popular in the last few years. Zpara plants, frequently overlooked because of their annoyingly sharp needle like leaves, grew large fragrant berries almost year round, and it turned out that those berries could be brewed into a powerful and flavorful beverage. Stimulating, if brewed too strongly it made the heart flutter and sleep impossible. But it caught on quickly, especially in Owners and Free Workers – one of their rare commonalities. Owners liked it because it was a heady and cheap way to feel on top of the world. Free Workers liked it because it gave them the energy to work through the day without much else.

“Why would he like it?” Ganno said, “it's a bit strong, isn't it?”

“Well there was this tea that Sedil used to drink,” Ganno smiled, “it was wretched. I think one of his strange relatives willed a batch of it to everyone on his Inheritance list.”

The elderly woman's eyes had gone a bit clouded, but they still shone with the light of the sun. Her daughter, her one and only, had come to visit more often now that Sedil had passed away and left the small homestead to his wife. Galnos knew that she was lonely but a trip back to the busy vinyard would be too much for her.

“There is something on your mind, child,” Ganno said. Though she never truly manifested any powers at all, she always knew the moods of her daughter.

“I'm hardly a child any longer mother,” Galnos smirked. “But you are right, there… is something I need to discuss with you. It's my son, Gelavghel.”

They spoke about him where he couldn't have overheard. While he was working in the distillery rooms, and his mate Havara busied herself with sewing clothing for the three Bayaran children on the estate, Ganno slipped away and to the north. To the home that she might wish to settle in, perhaps. She'd rarely even spent more than a night there, in the cottage overlooked the estate's back country. It was quaint, but not her style.

It was without hesitation that Ganno offered her curt opinion about her grandson's behavior. “He's so like you,” she said, “and like your father. So intense, so strong willed. So blind some times…”

“But father never did anything… well, rash and stupid and expensive.”

“No,” Ganno laughed, “no, he didn't. He was over everything else, a very sensible man. But – perhaps that is simply what your son is going to have to learn for himself. And it is for a good cause. This girl, she's pregnant now?”

“Yes, she seems quite happy too. She's not as vocal as I'd like, I hope their children don't turn out like …”

“Like what, dear?” Ganno asked, placing her cup back onto its delicate saucer.

“So much like a Slave, she is. I've rarely seen anyone act so withdrawn when they're told what to do. She works hard, she's not dull witted. But she has no drive to speak up for herself. It's no wonder she's a Bayaran, really. I think her family put her with us and never bothered to ask how she's doing.”

“That's a pity,” Ganno said. “But still, with what this must have cost your son, she should be bearing a fine healthy child. That is always a good thing in this world.”

Galnos nodded, slowly. Her hand trembled slightly, and she realized it was because she'd been eagerly sipping down the red colored liquid as though it were simply tea. “I think I'll pass on another cup, mother,” she said when Ganno offered her yet another refill…

Ganno did not live to see her great grandson Huleg born. It was a pity, too, because he greatly resembled her. With dark green skin – bearing bright yellow markings on his face, dark blue hair that was slightly wavy, and striking bronze colored eyes, he had a little tail too. He was brought out for everyone in the Vinyard to see, and contrary to how Galnos thought she might feel about this, she doted upon him just like everyone else.

But what Galnos did not do, was offer to pay for the boy in any way. She and Vot had agreed that they had their own share of financial issues to deal with. It was a good thing that the vinyard continued to draw in customers from far and wide, because apparently one of the portions of forest where the wood they'd been getting to replace beams in the house, had burnt down in the meantime, making it that much harder to find.

Valnot enjoyed playing protector for his younger nephew. He had early on grasped the use of his formidable plant powers – and was one option that his parents were looking at to fix the rotting shed out back, if they couldn't find the right woods to rebuild it. The green and blue-point colored kid was the spitting image of his father in tussled hair and smiling face. But what bothered his mother in particular was that he already exhibited a commanding air – over Havara.

She had to be reminded that she was in charge of her baby – not Valnot. If he wanted to play and she didn't feel like entertaining him, she could send him out to his own room. Galnos was trying to instill a sense of self-value in the Bayaran and it wasn't working very well. But like her mother Ganno before her, Galnos always enjoyed a good challenge especially in terms of a person-to-person effort.

“Valnot,” Galnos said, “come to your play room and let Havara rest a bit. She's had a long day today.”

“But I want to-” He protested but the six year old was no match for his mother's stern gaze.

“Havara just went back to work, you can't expect her to be able to do all that plus entertain you all night too, can you?”

“… no,” he admitted. He was gently scooted out to his room, and Galnos grinned broadly at the woman as she cradled Huleg in her work-tired arms.

“Rest up, you deserve it. If you want some of that Zpara stuff, we've got a bag of beans and the grinder…”

“Oh no,” Havara said, “I like to sleep at night, thank you… But in the morning if I'm not up by my work call you have my permission to douse me with it. Make sure it's hot and has goats milk in it…”

She rocked back and forth in the plush chair where Ganno had nursed her own child, and Galnos glanced around the room. It had changed little, this nursery, since she had been a child. Now, seeing it from her mother's perspective was easier. Gently Galnos closed the door and let the Bayaran rest.

While Galnos watched over Havara's slumbering form, she held her hands together as though in prayer. No such words of hope or vanity came from her mouth, though, Zekirans had no gods worth speaking to. Especially not about matters of finance. As if one child putting him into debt for thirty years wasn't bad enough, Gelavghel sought out a new Breeder for this second of their children. One who picked up the original tab handily, one who didn't bother with trivialities like trying to talk him out of it.

A less reputable Breeder, in other words. Breed Master Deav was a viscious Membayar and dealt money like a casino owner. He was slick like a betting agent too, bent on having more Bayaran in his custody than most Breeders did. He was forward thinking, he had his eye on young Alva even before she was born – she would do nicely for some other project that he had in mind, with other Bonded in his care. Perhaps he told Gelavghel about that, perhaps he'd used that angle to persuade the already-indebted man to go farther down the spiral. Gelavghel was so vain that whenever someone did compliment him or his genetics, he'd wash in their waves of praise.

Huleg was only five, when this additional burden was placed upon his father. Though Gelavghel was still young and vital Havara had aged unnaturally quickly in these last few years. And now, with Galnos and Vot's third child on the way it appeared she was almost frantic to compete. But there would be no further children from the Bayaran, and Galnos hoped that her son realized that. He was almost as bad as an abusive Lord, sometimes.

Valnot and Huleg came into the dimly lit room, Huleg holding on to his four year old sister Alva's hand. Her other was busy occupying her mouth with interesting tastes – she would touch everything and taste it if she could, leading to some interesting disasters in the larder.

“Is she all right?” Asked Valnot, leaning over to his mother's shoulder and gently giving her enlarged belly a rub. “And are you all right mother?”

“I'm fine,” Galnos said, “but I worry for Havara.” She turned to Huleg and said, “you must not worry, but you must also study harder. If you pass your Worker exam soon you will be able to keep that Status.”

“You're worried about their Status?” Valnot asked, pushing his mess of blue-green hair behind his ear. “It's that bad?”

Galnos lowered her head, and said nothing.

“I'll help him then,” Valnot said, “I passed them early, I'm sure he can too. He's my nephew after all.” He grinned widely at the other boy, whose markings flexed with his own smile. They both were startled when Havara stirred in her bed.

Galnos scooted them out of the room, taking a protesting Alva with them.

“I am glad you're pushing him,” Havara said quietly. Her voice was broken, sad. “I could never do it myself. He's a bright boy, like his father. Do you think he'll become something more?”

“I'm sure of it,” Galnos said. “Did you want something to drink?” The Barayan answered with a gulp and a nod, smacking her dry lips with an equally dry tongue. They didn't think anyone could afford the care if she needed an extended stay in a hospital, it was a shame that all their other Healer contacts had grown old or apart after Ganno's passing.

Galnos helped Havara sip from a cup, and then smiled, “Put your hand here,” she whispered, “feel her?”

Her baby was tossing and turning again, and Havara chuckled. “I would love to feel that again but… I'm glad I won't have to!”

“We've all been blessed, Havara, quite well. Neither of us has room to complain.” Galnos nodded, and put the cup on a stand beside the bed. “I've been blessed with an extra small bladder this time around, so please excuse me… Sleep well tonight, Havara.”

“Thank you, Landmistress,” she said, addressing her with the new Status that she'd finally bought into. The vinyard estate was partially hers now, at the behest of her husband Vot of course. It only made sense. What didn't was that they would have to fight with their own son to make sure it stayed in their hands, now that he'd gone even farther into debt.

The desk that Breed Master Deav sat behind was a huge affair with leather trim and studs of brass holding it on. His chair was an equally monsterous device that creaked heavily whenever he moved and appeared to have been constructed from an entire cow. There were few bits of any stray materials anywhere on this gigantic desk though, a cup with water, a second with zpara grounds in it obviously left over from morning. A simple wave of his dark-brown hand brought a Bayaran through the room to retrieve the offending zpara cup, and she made no sound as he looked down the loose shirt she wore.

Alva and Huleg sat opposite this bear of a man, nervous but determined. Only five years separated the two siblings, but they felt as though they were twins sitting before this Breeder. The way he looked at Alva made Huleg's stomach twist. Their father had mentioned that something had been ‘worked out' long before. That was before he died, working the machinery outside where he really shouldn't have been. Everyone knew that his skin blistered up in the bright sunlight, had he been doing it just because he thought he could? Or just because he wanted to die? No one realized that he would have become blood poisoned by the after effects of being in that much sun – perhaps more sunlight in one day than he'd had over the past year?

So he had been laid to rest on the estate grounds, and very shortly an expensive carriage arrived to collect on his debts.

The collection, it appeared, would have to come in the form of the two children. They were hardly little kids any longer, Alva was eighteen after all, and they had both been Free Workers since their pre-teens. But now? They were informed that this contract signed clearly by their father was all Deav needed to force them into Bayaran to literally pay themselves off.

“You've got to understand, of course,” he said in his deep voice, “that you both were quite expensive. Your father had the wisdom to try, but,” he chuckled with a faint sickening grin, “not the constitution to back it up. I do hope you're a bit more sturdy than he, after all.”

“After all, what?” Huleg said, his blood pressure rose, anger brewing in him. There was a warmth in the air around him, and his sister placed her shiny turquoise fingers on his arm. She gently reminded him with her eyes firmly on his, that his control over heat was tenuous at best. The last thing they needed to do was burn down the Breed Master's office.

“After all,” Deav went on without pause, while they glared at each other, “you'll be needing to do some work for me, it will not be this childhood slide you've been given by your grandparents.”

“We've worked quite hard in the vinyard,” Alva pointed out. “And you'll be needing to remember the Bayaran laws if you plan on setting us on some job we hardly know anything about.” She steeled herself to say, “after all, we're Free Workers, and not Bayaran yet . And we'll yet be Free Workers, should you decide that our work isn't to your liking. We're qualified agriculture engineers.”

The big man in the big chair leaned back, making the stuffing squish and squeal. Then, he gave off a long, building chuckle from his huge lungs. “Ho ho – my dear little project, you've got so little say in your Bayaran work, if you believe that threatening me with Free Worker talk… You've got a lot to learn, girl. You are,” he pulled himself back up in the chair and glared at them sternly with burning red eyes, “mine. Your father was indebted to me through the ‘fifties, did you even know that much?”

“Till he was fifty,” Huleg sought to correct but the Breed Master stood at that and slapped his massive steak-shaped palm onto the desk.

“ Into the Eighteen Fifties ,” he bellowed, “did he really tell you ‘until he turned fifty'? Was that like the man? Able to lie like that to his own children, eh?”

He sat back down again, while the pair looked at one another, their nerves finally breaking and their determination in shatters.

“I have the right to examine the contract,” said Huleg.

“Be my guest,” Deav said, with a gloating smile on his froggy lips. “It will tell you everything you need to know.”

“Do you mind, we need to discuss it,” Huleg said, standing and offering his hand to his sister. “It… seems that our father was a bit further down the road than we were led … to believe.”

His eyes wanted to squinch shut. The numbers were there. They were real. Alva saw them too and literally burst out in tears. She abruptly took the paper from her brother's hand, and pushed it back to the Breeder.

“Please forgive me,” she said, sputtering but angry more than sad. “If what I've said offended you. Our … we were – our father told us none of this. It's inexcusable. Our grandmother didn't know, if she had, she would have marched right in here herself.”

“Then you agree to the terms of our contract?” Deav said, indicating the papers that he'd drawn up earlier and introduced to them when they had arrived.

“Though it seemed completely outrageous before,” Huleg said looking at his sister with care, then back at Deav, “I can understand it now. And yes, please forgive us for the behavior. We hardly thought there were five more years of his contract left.”

“But won't it – we'll both be serving for it,” Alva said, looking at the paperwork. “That will shorten the contract by half, technically.”

“Technically, yes,” Deav said. “And of course there are always … perks and extra credit.”

Neither of them liked how he said that, but by then, they'd both forced their own hands to sign their freedom away.

“You will address me only when required,” Deav stated while he filed the papers and handed them their copies. “If I require you to re-learn your skills you will do so.”

“With any due respect,” Alva spat, “you are going to follow the Bayaran placement laws, I'll need no retraining for some foreign position.”

Only the burly man's red eyes shifted onto the girl. The corner of his thick jaw tightened, “funny you should use that word.”