Labor's Love Lost 5

“I don't even like him,” Alva said, darkly. “This Bayaran breeding scheme of his is really tasteless. Have you met Mul? He's more beast than man.”

It was the middle of the Eighteen-teens, and while both Huleg and Alva did have their jobs cut out for them they were both still together and working in woods the way they always had. More comfortable in the woodlands by Tenet, and with their considerable talents put to good use, Deav actually had to admit that their passion for holding up ridiculously outdated laws had worked well enough. He'd been meaning to develop the area he Held there, on the outskirts of the zone and well away from the township itself. Perhaps it would be a good time to do that, when the pair came under his care.

“He can't be that feral,” Huleg said, “he wrote you a poem, after all.”

“Don't even bring that up,” Alva grunted, sitting herself down in a soft chair and putting her feet up on her brother's knees. Habitually, he began rubbing her sore feet – they'd been doing this routine for at least two decades, since they were kids. “He's not bad looking, but… he follows me around, whenever we're together. Like a … puppy or something. And I don't like puppies.”

“You like snakes, weirdo,” Huleg said. “Any more snakes come after you?”

“Not since yesterday,” she said. Her floral powers were not fading, but what she'd been noticing all along was that her penchant for attracting small animals had grown – and oddly enough it was to snakes and reptiles that she herself was drawn. They didn't chew plants, that was one bonus point… But in the light of their situation, she understood suddenly what Deav had meant.

“He means to produce animal-tunings,” she said abruptly. Huleg shrugged.

“Isn't that what he does for a living then?”

“Yes, but… From me?”

“From you, why not?” Huleg asked, pressing her toes back a bit and flexing her foot.

“Because I'm not … well, I … suppose I am a bit tuned, aren't I?” She fiddled with a moth that had wandered near, and it refused to fly away.

“Yes, you are, and you should admit it. Maybe if you concentrate hard enough on that,” Huleg said with a smile, “you can get Raised.”

“I – do not want to be Raised to an Animal Master! I'm not – ooh!” She pulled her feet away and mockingly fumed.

In the pleasant firelight of their on-site cabin, Alva's skin shimmered prettily in blue-green and turquoise. She wasn't marked the way he was, rather she was mixed with a lovely shine, almost like the turquoise color was added on another layer of translucent skin above the rest. Her deeply indigo hair and striking orange eyes stood out too, though she refused to keep her hair any longer than her shoulders, and even when it was that long she complained it was too much to take care of. Huleg wondered, perhaps the other Bayaran, Mul, wouldn't be such a bad addition to their group. He wasn't all that bad. It was just that Alva wasn't fond of the idea of bearing him a child just for the sake of their finances. That was so personal, to her, such a violation. But she wasn't a Slave, she did not have the same recourse that another might.

She'd signed the contract. That was their lot in life. They dealt with it.

They dealt better, though, once she did bear a child. Vamul was cute, as a baby – not as good looking as Huleg thought his sister had been at that age. His skin was a pale sky-blue color with the same shimmering overcoat that Alva had, only in a bright white. His hair, charcoal locks that stood almost on end at the front of his forehead, and blended to a soft swirl to the back. When he opened his eyes, they were a mud color, not the most impressive after looking at the rest of him. He had a tail, longer and thicker than his mother's and Huleg's. Little claws completed this picture of a baby born to serve. Mul was supposedly serving out his own parents' Bond too, which brought a bit of suspition into Huleg's thoughts.

What if … there was something more sinister going on here? Would anyone listen to him if he brought it up at a family gathering? They were allowed time to themselves of course, as long as they appeared for work and made sure their contracts were fulfilled. Perhaps Huleg would say something when they got back to the vinyard.

But then, what could they offer him? More Free Worker gossip, probably, and that amounted to very little in terms of Breeders law and such things. Breed Master Deav said as much quite frequently when he knew the pair were present. He would try goading them frequently – just to test them. He demanded the same attentive silence from his Bonds as any Owner expected of their Slaves, and the Slaves… well they were so rarely seen or heard, that one might suspect they were invisible.

This was not the life that either Huleg or Alva had imagined for themselves.

However that abruptly changed when, after a visit across the Bohata plains, Deav came back to the main mansion where everyone gathered. He was hurried, angry, blustering. But he was completely careless of who listened in to his private conversation with one of his wives.

“They've found him, I'm certain of it.” He said, “no, no that's not enough. It has to be now, sooner than now.”

Mul appeared at the end of the dark hall, with his son Vamul in his arms, and eyes wide. He mouthed, “what is it?” and Alva held her hand up briefly. Then she beckoned him near, when there were two others to also listen in.

Sneaking around behind the back of the massive man was easy – there was so much of it.

He thought he had been seen doing something, some deed which had agitated him so much that he came bolting home. His one wife was busy in Difar somewhere, and the one on his vid was sounding a little peeved with him. Another of the Bayaran with a fairly young child arrived, and had the forethought to take her own daughter Reen, and Vamul, away to a safer distance. They would be seen or heard too easily. Her two-year old clung on to the five year old Vamul, they both seemed to sense the tension in the air beyond the hallway.

“It's got to be done, and we've little time. She was worth it, Emelan,” the Breed Master said, and they all heard the disconnect tone. Everyone scattered, silently.

“This is a mess of Bayaran and Slaves we have here,” said one of the court adjusters, a Membayar with a square jaw and round belly. “They'll be happy to hear what you have to say sir,” he said to the judge who arrived at the estate. Every one of them were rounded up, from little Reen to the elderly Mahal, who was Mul's grandfather.

“The Breed Master has been stripped of his Status and is now going to prison for the murder of High Master Nkelh of Kua.” That statement sent a ripple of uncharacteristic muttering through the group. “And for that reason we have collected your paperwork and set it all in order. You are,” he said and coughed out name after name, “hereby released from Bond and Raised back to your prior Status, with all the rights and priveledges therein contained. The Slaves,” the list was shorter, but still significant, “are similarly Raised to Free Worker status, and to be tested again for any beneficial mutations by another qualified Breeder for future Status review.”

The crowd of Bayaran – ex-bonds now – broke into cheering and crying. The Slaves however took it upon themselves to huddle down with one another in fear.

“What's wrong with you?” Asked Alva. Vamul ran up to her and then tried dragging her away to the others, but she shooed him back to his father and Huleg. “You're Free now, Workers like me and Huleg.”

“But we have no – no – ” Stammered one, he was always the devoted Slave, and Alva adopted a soft look at him.

“Eto, we'll make sure that everyone is cared for,” she said. “The judges can help, too, I think. You're all good strong workers, and you do such beautiful embroidery,” she glanced at two of the women, “you're not going to be straining for jobs.”

“They can retrieve whatever they need from the estate,” said one bailiff, “after a while we'll go in and make sure that everything is secure, but for the moment, it's all yours. Try not to break anything valuable, it'll all be sold off.”

“What about the valuables?” Huleg said, “break the valuables?”

The bailiff laughed, rolled his eyes, and saw to it that whoever needed help figuring out where they could go in the meantime, got that help.

“So we're back to where we started,” Huleg said, “but now we've got you,” Vamul bounced on his feet and hugged his uncle. “Mul, are you going to be coming with us to the vinyard? I'm sure there will be enough room for you. We've always got mice and birds making nests in places they shouldn't be. You'd be perfect to chase them away.”

Laughing the fanged and slightly catlike man agreed. He wasn't all that bad, Alva had to admit, a little simple but that was mainly his upbringing. It wasn't his ignorance that got him in Bond. It wasn't even his father's, it was old Mahal's. Just like it was Gelavghel's that wound the siblings up in the same leaky boat.

She wanted to make sure that Vamul didn't wind up in the same position that they all had.

With several on-site Workers who were practically tuned to animals enough to retitle, the Covered Bridge Vinyard was doing well. The regions around it had been eventually bought up and were used as further plots for more experimental fruits. Wine could well be made from anything, but as the popularity of Spheer's taste waned, they wanted to get something new involved. Someone madly suggested zpara as another ‘fruit' but was promptly showered with a cascade of everyone's collection baskets.

As other trees and vines were planted, the area around the vinyard blossomed from a rural village to a bustling township. Breeders and Animal Masters moved in, which was the first sure sign that the glory days of a tiny-town were over. Not that it bothered any of the Workers or Land Masters in the vinyard any. That just meant more party guests to serve. Many of the Workers got jobs on the side whenever a High Holder or Owner threw a party. They knew just how to chill or warm the wines they set out, and fortunately most of the new rich folks in town weren't much for old habits like serving only from one kind of glass.

Some of them liked the wine served in paper cups, so who was to say? Maybe High Holders weren't all so uptight after all.

While the fruit trees took hold, and new vintages of old wines were traded for more exotic ones, the families working this land became even more solidified. Alva did not plan on having any further children under the direction of any Breeder, and who could blame her. Instead she found herself happily settling in with another of the ex-bonds that had come to the vinyard. Huleg moved from partner to partner like the happy bees that pollenated their plants. Whether he had children was a big question – there were always girls from other towns or traveling with their Lords or Masters on wine tasting tours that he seemed to entertain quite well for a night or two. When they moved on, who knew where they had got to?

But one thing was sure, that young handsome Vamul, with his hard claws and shining white-glossy skin, was a hit anywhere he went. The youngest of the Freed bunch, Reen, had taken a liking to him. She had been most Bred among the bonds, without actually having any genetic engineering done to her parents. With a sheen of pale white fur over her grey skin, a tail that complimented it, and the minor senses and command over animals that those things often brought, they did seem to be quite the team.

Specializing in vermin removal, however, Vamul and his father both enjoyed their days chasing mice. If they'd only asked Reen, she would have joined in gleefully. But she refrained, and usually kept more to occupying herself with a local animal or two. She served fairly well as a Steed healer, though untrained. They never bolted from her, they were extremely cooperative with her, or even just when she was nearby. A handy skill to have indeed, especially when a large number of fragile bottles needed to be moved from the vinyard to their destination!

This time, it was to a newly built estate along the rim of a canyon wash area, not forty minutes ride from the vinyard. But there was not what one could call a ‘road' going anywhere near it, and no one in the area had a spare hover vehicle to make the trip any easier. Reen guided the Steed-driven carriage while sitting atop one of the large grounded beasts, carefully sensing the unevenness of the ground through their hooves.

“That way, it's a softer part of the wash,” she pointed, and Vamul took the carriage to the right. Then to the left, then she actually got off the Steed's back and removed a large rock from their path so they didn't have to back up and go around it.

They made it to the party with time to spare, setting up the day before hand. “It was a good idea to bring us in now,” Vamul commented, while helping unload the crate. “If you have a road put in, I bet we could help with that too.”

“A road….” Said Lady Coahani, thoughtfully. “There… is no actual road.” She even went to the big window on the east side of the massive building, and tisked to herself. “I had everything hovered in, I suppose you're right. And,” she glanced at the two ‘almost-animal-masters', “you know people who could help?”

“There are always hands here, Lady,” Reen said with a smile.

The farm bordering Covered Bridge prospered under the watchful eye of Lady Coahani. She had a good knack for land, and though the estate was physically parted from the farm itself by the wash canyon, almost everything that went on on the farm could be seen from there. Not quite flat, the farm land drifted a little downward, following the wash in a gentle slope. On the higher ground, roots and tubers which provided the bulk of the Lady's income were planted. Down where there was a bit of a depression she provided a water feed and put in rice.

When the rice as well as the tubers both began experiencing a bit of a strange blight, the Lady came directly to Reen and Vamul. Their young son Remal tagged along on this trip, hyperactive and wide eyed.

It was as the adults picked their way through the damaged crops, that Remal wandered off on his own. He sought out a dark briar, just on the northern side of the field. From there he could see everyone, and then some. He was hardly a toddler, yet could still only count on his hands – to six, the age he proudly yelled if anyone asked.

The darkness of this brush on the otherwise healthy land invited him. Though he wasn't oversensitive like grandma Alva, every bit of shade was better than basking in the sun, to the blue-white skinned boy. His fur ‘coat' had not really come in, but everyone knew that he'd have the white-silver down covering his limbs and back when he was older. His tail was already gently doused with it, in about the same shade as the slightly-darker silver hair on his head. Though that hair poked him in his brass-colored eye, he pressed on. Hands and knees, tail tucked down for safety, he crept into the nook below the bushes.

There, he met up with a peculiar looking animal. It was long in body and snout, with tiny ears and narrow eyes. Obviously it was a ground dweller, with claws built to dig up things just like they were speaking of outside.

Its fur was a mix of grey and white, and Remal knew instinctively that winter must be coming: when it did occasionally snow, this creature would blend right in.

“But you're not from here, are you?” He asked and the animal gave a curious ‘peep' in response. “I wonder where you're from, maybe you're from Ertan, it snows up there. It doesn't snow much here, does it?” Again, the creature peeped at him. That was followed by a chorus.

Seven more of them popped their tiny noses out from a hole, babies half-grown. Obviously they needed feeding frequently, and mom here was just about in heaven finding every Zekiran grown plant to her liking.

Shortly, Remal exited the shrubbery rear-end first, and as he oriented himself back to where he'd started, when he saw his mother he gave a big excited yell. “Momma!” He said, “Momma come lookit!”

The trio of adults came running, the Lady concerned that there was something entirely unappropriate on her land. But her fears were washed away with laughter, when they came upon the boy.

For sitting on his shoulder was the mother weasel, and propped along both his arms were all of her little kits. “Aren't they great? They're really friendly, but they're just hungry is all! Can we keep them? They won't make a mess I promise, I told them not to mess on me! That'd be bad because then I'd have to take a bath and I don't like baths!”

Lady Coahani glanced at the pair of shorter Free Workers that framed her one on each side. “I'm going to have that boy properly tested, now.” To Remal, however, she put on a dazzling happy grin. “And what are we going to call these little creatures you've discovered? I wonder if they're native, or if they descended from something we accidentally brought with us,” she commented. He didn't understand that statement, but Remal certainly did perk up with all the attention.

The attention Remal paid to Coahani's breeding projects was grand. After his Raising to Animal Master status, and several years later actually passing the entrance exams to that same status, Remal could earn quite a lot more than his parents had, even with the winery. Especially since Coahani paid well to have those little rodents put into large hutches and kept as fur-bearing profit.

He didn't like the idea at the start. That of killing his little white furred friends for their pelts. But as he grew older and the creatures wild natures gave way to a more sedate one, the thrill of their presense lapsed. He knew in theory that if they bred one more-white one to another they'd eventually get that great white pelt year round.

And that was just what they did. The Lady designed the hutches, while the young boy was still enfatuated with hunting them in the wild. Eventually they were exclusively bred indoors, with their food coming from the same fields where their ancestors had run. No one knew really whether these weasel things had come from the colony ships or not. In the end, it didn't matter.

As fur trim on darker coats, the pelts of these small vermin did splendidly. Lady Coahani's half sister was a fashion designer, and she insisted upon the best furs or leathers. It wasn't long before Coahani and Remal were her top suppliers for white furs.

“There are so many of them!” The Lady Hoani asserted. Walking through the network of wooden and wire structures, she marveled at their cleanliness even while she abhorred the noises they made.

“They're just telling you hello,” Remal said with a smile. He was always there, inside the hutch and breeding center. He himself kept the whole place clean, and every one of the animals healthy. “I see you're wearing some of last season's crop,” he pointed to her fur lined gloves. “Aren't they a little warm for Rar's weather?”

He knew she was faintly offended by his familiarity. Charming he might be, to lower class people. But she swept through the place and was eager to get back inside her sister's estate. Annoyingly, the young Animal Master followed them inside.

“Is he really allowed free run of the place?” She asked with a hand gently covering her lips. Her sister grinned.

“Of course he is. How else would I keep him in my rooms at night, I hardly want to sleep in the hutches.”

There was a painful moment when Hoani realized what her sister meant. “But he's … he's so – he is barely a man, and barely past Slavery!” Still she kept her voice low.

“He has never been a Slave, Hoani,” Coahani said, “and I assure you he's quite a man. Young, yes. But quite. Manly.”

“He's a bit short then,” Hoani said as though to keep the conversation ‘hers'. Clearly she would never really accept him into her family but to Remal that didn't matter. He wasn't offended by her remarks. He had heard so many others at fashion events that they just rolled off him. Remal wasn't as bright as some in his family, but he knew when to take offense and when to just act really dumb.

Whenever the Lady's sister would come, he would behave as though he was about as smart as a bag of bricks. This infuriated Hoani, and made Coahani silly with laughter later on. At least his sense of humor was mature.

“Did you see the news about that island?” Asked Remal after they'd secured the hutches and gone in for the evening. “Some place called Oorta, off Ka. Do you want to see it?”

“I've got no intention of setting up shop on some distant rock surrounded by deep water,” Coahani said warily. “Why, did you have it in mind to invest in?”

He shrugged, “I might, but if you don't like the idea of even looking at it, I probably won't bother.”

“… Remal you know you don't have to ask me for every decision you wish to make, you're not a Bayaran or Slave you know.” She paused, “And I hope I don't treat you as one, to make you think that way!” She cuddled up to him as they watched the fire burn in its stone enclosure. “You're my Beastmaster, and animal masters can hold whatever they wish.”

“Including rich Ladies with annoying sisters?”

“Even including those,” she chuckled.