“I think, Lady Elspith, that you should leave Lord Alboim to me.” Bennit had seen it before; normally strong men pushed too far. He suspected that the Lady not only had seen the same, but had been one of the strong ones pushed past their breaking point. It was a testament of her resilience that she had gotten back on her feet after the many tragedies in her life, and was still fighting for her people.

  “Yes, Bennit, let Alboim find some equilibrium.” She pulled the young butler aside. “You have leave to do whatever it takes to calm the boy down.”

  “It was the shock, nothing more.” Alboim stated firmly, “I am fine.”

  “No, nephew, you are not fine.” Elspith disagreed. “I can count four major shocks you have taken recently. The death of your mother, the death of your father, your kidnapping, and finally, my foolish attempt to make you my heir, and abandon your responsibilities in your world. Whatever my motivation, I should have given you time to adjust. Please, forgive me.”

  “Come with me, Lord Alboim. You need a distraction, and then you need someone who will listen and who knows, at least a little, what you are going through.” Bennit spoke firmly and pushed his owner lightly toward the exit. “Trust me, this is going to make you feel a thousand times better.”

  Elspith and Dobsen watched silently as the slave harried the master out of the room. “What did I even do?” Elspith asked, concern, as well as confusion, tinging her voice.

  “I do not know, but, like you’ve said, the boy has had a lot of shocks to his system. For now, we must wait and see if Bennit is as good as we think he is.”

  “I know. ‘Once you have delegated to a competent subordinate, get the hell out of his way.’ Father did give excellent advice.”

  “And I was looking forward to retirement in a decade once he had some seasoning.” Dobsen sighed. “But there are things that only you can do.”

  “The report to the king.” Now, it was her turn to sigh. “I can only hope the message finds him on a good day.” or the vengeful old fart dies. Tasia is so much easier to deal with.

  “Now then, if you start writing, I will go fetch you some fresh tea.”

  ~*** *** ***~

  The wide hallway was a familiar one, black and white tile floor, marble walls, and the occasional window. Brass mage-light plates gave ample light even where the windows did not reach. Several people, mostly human, scurried to and fro on tasks.

  The castle was alive, buzzing with activity. Slave and free alike, when able, paused in their work to bow or curtsy to him. Just before he rounded a corner, he heard a voice, “-yeah, I agree. It's wonderful that the Mistress found an heir. I’ve heard rumors about the Baron that would curl your tail.” He turned the corner to find two human slave women on their knees polishing the floor. Neither of the women even glanced up as he and Bennit stepped around them.

  Bennit did not give him time to dwell on those around him. Walking at a brisk pace, he led him down three flights of spiral stairs; they were side, well apportioned and, although polished, there had been grooves cut into the steps for traction. They were now in a basement, and the air was noticeably cooler down here.

  There were more slaves in the underground floor, but it was still light from plentiful mage-lights. They were still well fed and well cared for. “The kitchens.” Bennit announced and opened a door.

  Ordered chaos. That was the only way to describe it. Slaves bustled around, dancing in and out of the way as meals for the hundreds that lived in the inner keep were prepared. Bennit boldly marched in and snatched an entire basket of rolls still hot from the ovens. The cook turned around and started to yell, before he spotted Alboim.

  The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  “It’s the Young Lord! The Young Lord is here!” he shouted.

  The room went from a quiet cacophony to nearly silent in moments.”

  “Please don’t mind me.” Bennit urged him silently to speak on. “I would like to thank you for your efforts. Breakfast was very nice. Er, thank you.”

  The cook bowed, “Thank you, young lord.” he was quivering with emotion.

  “Please, don’t mind me. I’m looking forward to dinner. I won’t ruin my appetite.”

  He beat a hasty retreat with Bennit who still had the basket. “Try one of these.”

  Alboim took one. It was less than half the size of his fist, wheat bread wrapped around something and baked a perfect golden brown. They smelled of yeast, nuts, spiced and honey. He sniffed again. “Baklava?” he asked.

  “No, these are stuffed buns, but they smell like baklava.” He broke one open and stuck his nose in the rising steam, then bit into one it did not have the snap of, but the taste... “The filling is baklava!” He exclaimed. The bakla-bun quickly disappeared, and he reached for another. But Bennit snatched it away.

  “We cannot have you spoiling your dinner, Lord. Come.”

  Back on the ground floor, Bennit moved confidently out into the courtyard. The heat slammed Alboim like a mac truck. Wet, oppressive, humid. “I feel like I could swim in this air.” he complained.

  Bennit turned around, walking backwards on the crushed limestone path. “Wait until Ofkillsan to say that, My Lord. This is nothing, and a little on the cool side for this time of year.”

  The sun had long ago burned off the morning fog, and now baked the courtyard. The heat shimmered above the lush green lawns and tropical explosions of color in the flowerbeds. Al allowed himself to be guided into the shade of the giant redwood tree.

  “Ennid! Ennid!” a young cat girl came running up on all fours from a group of children playing under the shade. “Can you play?” She was only the first, as the butler was soon surrounded by half a dozen children—humans, mostly, but a few cat people and two badger-girls with striped fur, and a badger’s snout under huge human eyes and a rounded head. The first girl could not have been more than three, the badger girls the eldest at six-ish, if he had to guess.

  “Zinnise, I thought you were a big girl, only babies walk on all four.”

  She used Bennit’s trousers to pull herself up and declared, “I am a ‘ig girl!” A pair of older girls, twelve by the looks of them, already sporting a hated metal collar, and with fox-red fur, ears and face, watched from a distance, dropping curtsies once they spotted Alboim.

  “She’s Suzsise’s sister. Alright, I believe you.” He rubbed her head affectionately, scratching just behind her ears. “Children,” he announced, “I brought a new friend for you. This is Lord Alboim. He is the Lady’s nephew.” None of the children were collared.

  The fox girls were horrified, but the young children had no problem with surrounding Alboim and pulling him to play with them in the shade under the tree. It was the exact thing he needed. An hour later, he and Bennit were sitting side by side at the base of the redwood.

  The badger girls were using Alboim’s lap for their pillow, Bennit held a napping Zinnise in his arms while a couple of human kids slept at his side. Most of the rest were sleeping in the shade, and even the fox girls were nodding off a short distance away. The bakla-buns had been a colossal hit with the children.

  “Thank you, Bennit,” Alboim said quietly. “How did you know that this is what I needed?”

  “Only evil men hate children. And whatever you are, you are not an evil man, My Lord.” came the equally quiet reply. “Children give their love freely, without condition, and even the Lady Elspith has been known to come and watch the children play when problems weigh heavily on her mind.”

  "What is going to happen to the kids?”

  “They will be collared when they are old enough to be apprenticed. Tiarella and Triteleia,” he meant the badger girls sleeping on Alboim, “are at most a year away from collaring.”

  “That’s a cruel thing to do.”

  “But, my Lord, we can only live the life we were handed. If we were to wait until life was perfect, nothing would ever change. Their lot could be far worse; the Lady is a good mistress, as was her father, and her grandfather.”

  Alboim grunted, and shifted Tiarella’s head a bit into a more comfortable position.

  “I swear I will help you in every way I can, Lord Alboim. Not because you are my owner and my collar compels me to obey you, but because I can see that you are a man worth following.”

  “And for what it’s worth, Bennit, from what I have learned of you, you are a friend worth having.” Albom stuck out his hand, and Bennit shook it firmly. “I have six months stuck here, so let’s work to make this time go as smoothly as possible.”