Master and Servant (Waterman)

by Dusk Peterson

CHAPTER TWO

  Cycle forward: 1956 Clover; an excerpt from "A Concise History of the Dozen Landsteads."

  His name had been Remigeus, and he had been one of the purer and more ill-used slaves in that time of barbarity. In certain ways an innocent, he had not sought to hide his views on how the world should be run. To every slave he met, he told of the better world he envisioned, a world where the true masters sought to protect and guide their slaves, and the true slaves were happy to serve their masters. It was an idyllic image, and under the power of Remigeus's words, the idea spread like uncontrollable flame amongst the slaves.

  Remigeus's master heard of the vision, of course. At first he was inclined to dismiss the matter as the silly rantings of an otherwise well-behaved slave, but when he saw how the idea took hold, not only with his own slaves, but with the slaves of the other eleven masters, his fury was swift. Remigeus died a hard death, one that was designed to teach slaves their proper place in the Dozen Landsteads.

  And that would have been the end of the matter except that, while Remigeus had died, his words would not. The slaves kept his sayings alive amongst themselves, passing them on from generation to generation, never daring to speak them in the presence of a master. But of course, with so many treacherous slaves at their disposal, the masters heard of the tales being passed from slave to slave, and they brought vengeance upon any slave known to harbor such notions. Yet still Remigeus's words remained alive.

  What saved the slaves in the end was the fact that the masters were not immortal. They died in each generation, leaving behind more than one descendant, and the descendants who did not inherit their fathers' rank were becoming increasingly unhappy about their lack of status in a society built in such a way that only a dozen men could be masters. When one of these disenfranchised descendants learned that Remigeus's scheme permitted the extension of mastership to a middle group of men, he brought the matter forward to the master of his landstead, who happened to be his eldest brother.

  The master, unhappy at seeing a man of his brother's skill left with no role in the Dozen Landsteads, listened with interest to the sayings of Remigeus that the younger man had collected. He sent his brother out to collect the remaining sayings of Remigeus; it took the brother great effort to do this, for the slaves were disinclined to offer information that they assumed would result in their deaths. But as it became clear that the master and his brother had reverence for the words of Remigeus, the slaves poured forth their bounty. The master's brother, who was clever in the ways of scholarship, sifted through the sayings with the help of some of the landstead's oldest slaves, who had been young children when Remigeus died, and in this way a canon of Remigeus's sayings was established.

  And then the master set forth to bring Remigeus's vision to reality.

  What followed was a bloody war amongst the masters that lasted into the next generation, but the final result was all that Remigeus could have hoped for: his sayings were accepted as the law of the Dozen Landsteads, and all disputes were henceforth decided by referring back to his words.

  Aside from the defeated masters, nearly everyone in the Dozen Landsteads was satisfied with the results. Remigeus's vision extended mastership to every man born free, with all but the dozen High Masters placed in an elaborate ranking system in which they served the masters above them and were served by the masters and slaves below them. All of the masters, including the High Masters, were given clear duties which, if violated, could result in the master being stripped of his power and made a slave. Slaves were likewise given certain duties they must perform, but no longer were their obligations a matter of each master's whimsy – it was made clear that slaves could be ordered to perform certain duties and could be treated in certain manners, but that they could not be required to behave in a manner that would bring death or destruction upon them. Any slave who was ill-treated could bring his grievance before the High Masters at the quarterly, and time proved that the High Masters, unwilling to risk bringing back the bloody civil war, would act against any master who violated the law.

  And so the Dozen Landsteads underwent a radical shift from a country where only one dozen men held power to a country where all men held power to some extent. This shift had only been made possible because Remigeus did not tamper with the belief – deeply held by most of the people of the Dozen Landsteads – that what had caused suffering to the previous generations was not slavery, but bad slavery.

  o—o—o

  Cycle back: 1317 Barley, Summer Transformation week.

  "Of course there remain gaps in Remigeus's sayings," Celadon said to Nellwyn as he reached the end of his explanation. "Remigeus apparently never spoke about women, so there has been dispute as to whether masters' daughters hold power in their own right and should be addressed as master, or whether they instead derive their power from their fathers and husbands and should be addressed as mastress. But for the most part, Remigeus's words have proved to be a surprisingly strong frame on which to build our law. I've asked a slave of mine what the slaves think of Remigeus – this was a slave I could trust to tell me the truth – and he says that Remigeus is still revered amongst the slaves, although the High Masters' interpretations of his words do not always receive equal reverence."

  Nellwyn frowned under the dim light cast upon her by a candle that was beginning to gutter. "Were you angered to learn that?"

  "Hardly. I share the slaves' opinion on this."

  There was a rustling in the chamber as the lesser masters shifted in their chairs, glancing at each other. Several of the slaves looked over at Celadon and then quickly away. Nellwyn, though, seemed too absorbed in her own thoughts to pursue this matter. She said, "So the lesser masters bear a certain resemblance to the people of my country – well, that is reassuring, but it doesn't lessen my concern for the slaves. You seem to be saying that some men are born without the ability to issue commands – that they are forever condemned to a life of service."

  She spoke these words in a challenging voice, but was met only by nods. Celadon said quietly, "Remigeus believed this – in his wisdom, he said that he was such a man. That did not mean he could not influence those he served – he most certainly did – but it meant that he was constructed in such a manner that it would not have been wise for him to wield power directly. Similarly, Remigeus believed that a few men are born in each generation who have the ability to command but are ill-suited to the task of being commanded. There is a range, of course – most men have some ability to serve and some ability to be served. That is why the lesser masters exist. But Remigeus said there are exceptions, and these exceptions are the slaves and the High Masters."

  "And you believe this?" Nellwyn stared wide-eyed at the masters, receiving once more a round of nods. Sert's nod was vigorous.

  "If I didn't believe it, I would not have spent the past five summers serving as a High Master," Celadon replied. "I would not have upheld a system I believed to be wholly false."

  Pentheus's gaze flicked over toward the High Master, but he remained silent as Nellwyn said, "Very well, suppose that Remigeus was right – though it sounds to me like the sort of explanation a slave would find to justify his continued slavery. Suppose that some men are born slaves, and other men are born masters. How can you be sure which is which? What if one of your slaves were to come to you and tell you he was truly a master?"

  Pentheus's breath travelled swiftly inward. Sert's face turned a bright crimson. Harmon and Enos looked at each other, raising their eyebrows silently. The slaves turned, as if by command, and began gathering together the empty vessels.

  Ledwin grumbled, "That is hardly a matter for polite discussion."

  "The topic arose earlier," Celadon replied, apparently the only man in the chamber who was unfazed by Nellwyn's words, though his fingers were again gripping his empty cup. "Besides, our Akbarian visitor is not acquainted with our ways. We— No, perhaps you should explain, Pentheus."

  Pentheus nodded in acknowledgment of the command b
efore saying in a grave voice to Nellwyn, "Such a condition occasionally occurs among the men and women of our land. In some cases, it is clearly willful perverseness and is best met with punishment. In other cases, though, the perverseness is thought to be an illness of the mind that can be cured. Indeed, I have often felt that such a condition is normal in the young – true slavery or mastership comes as much through training as through birth, and when the training has only just begun, it is natural that a young person would be confused as to his or her proper role in life. I think that patience should be shown toward young people who demonstrate perverse tendencies."

  Ledwin snorted. Harmon chuckled and said, "You're known for your softness in such matters, Pentheus, but I think we're all agreed that some forms of perverseness can be cured and some can't. I have great respect for any master who takes the trouble to try to cure slaves who are perverse; I think it is unwise to move too quickly to the alternative."

  Enos shrugged. "In theory, perverseness may be curable, but I think the best way to prevent perverseness is to make an example of slaves who fall into it. Wouldn't you agree, Sert?"

  Sert was still as red as the lowering flames of the candles. "I— It's a difficult subject to talk about—"

  "It's an embarrassing topic," Celadon agreed. "Still, some subjects need to be discussed, however unpleasant they may be."

  Nellwyn was now sitting rigid in her chair, her hands gripping the loose ends of her gown-belt as though she wished to transform the belt into a weapon. "And this alternative you speak of?" she said in a chill voice. "Am I to guess that the alternative does not consist of giving the slave the rank he has claimed?"

  Enos was captured by a fit of giggles before catching Celadon's eye and sobering quickly. The High Master told Nellwyn, "This is a matter Remigeus dealt with in his sayings, albeit briefly. He said that in cases where a master wished to serve as a slave – such a form of perverseness has appeared throughout our history, albeit rarely – then the master should be granted his wish, once it has been determined that the condition will be permanent. Remigeus believed that it is best to humor a master whose mind-illness is permanent, just as one humors a child who is convinced that wild beasts live under his bed."

  Nellwyn frowned. "A half-measure, but at least it attempts to deal with the problem. And if a slave claims to be a master?"

  Celadon sighed heavily. "That is more difficult. Remigeus believed that, while no master will willingly undergo the shame of debasing himself unless he is truly unable to rid himself of perverseness, the reverse need not be true – he believed that some true slaves will claim to be masters out of mere whimsy. And so Remigeus declared that any slave who claims to be a master, and who persists in his perverseness, must be given the mercy of a quick death."

  Nellwyn's hands jerked in her lap; her face had settled into a frozen mask of anger. She looked over at the slaves, as though hoping they would speak, but they remained properly silent as they finished their chores.

  Pentheus said, "It is a distressing solution, we are all agreed. But there seems to be no other alternative."

  "Of course there's an alterative," Nellwyn said briskly. "Rid yourselves of these ranks. Or if you must have a master/slave division, let the people determine for themselves whether they wish to be masters or slaves. This 'perverseness' you talk of is nothing more than proof that men and women aren't born into mastership or slavery – they are placed there, by your laws."

  "Training has a part to play as well." Celadon seemed surprisingly unmoved by this outburst. "I've known men who would not have served as good masters if they had failed to receive training in their rank from an early age, and the same is true of some slaves I've known. If they had been forced to wait until adulthood to choose their rank, they would not have been as skilled at their work as they became."

  Nellwyn glared at him. "So you're saying that the unfortunate slaves who don't fit into the model world your Remigeus envisioned will have to suffer for the crime of showing that your law system is flawed. You believe that the writings of a thirteen-centuries-dead man is more important than the pain of slaves living today."

  "Hardly," said Celadon. "I told you before, I don't agree with all of the interpretations of the High Masters."

  Pentheus, who had been holding his breath during Nellwyn's speech, gave out a heavy sigh. With his mouth now tightened, he gestured to the female slave, who took from Celadon the cup he had been gripping. Celadon seemed not to notice; he said to Nellwyn, as though she were the only person in the chamber, "I've been concerned for some time about the very issues you raise. I fear that overturning Remigeus's system altogether would result in greater loss than gain – alas, there are masters in the Dozen Landsteads, including High Masters I will not name, who would be quite happy to seize any opportunity they could to return to the old system in which they were free to oppress others. But I would like to see the laws modified to treat perverse slaves more humanely; the condition they suffer under is not their fault. I've proposed on several occasions that exceptions be permitted to the rule that persistently perverse slaves be executed."

  "But you have not succeeded in persuading the other High Masters of this," said Harmon quickly. He had been frowning throughout Celadon's speech, and Ledwin had been emitting a low rumble like a commentary. Enos looked more amused than angered by Celadon's proposal, while Sert, still blushing, had been staring once more at Celadon's dagger.

  Pentheus said carefully, "It is a radical break from the past, master, and could bring about the very destruction of the law that you fear."

  Celadon nodded. "The other High Masters agree with you on this. So I have recently made another proposal, one I have greater hope of seeing accepted. Harmon, do you recall the case you brought before the High Masters at the last quarterly, of the two slaves who had been playing they were master and slave to each other when they were alone together?"

  "Of course, master," Harmon replied promptly. "I had never run across such a case during my lifetime, and I wished the High Masters' advice on whether I should punish both slaves or only the perverse slave who pretended that he was a master. I am still awaiting your word on this."

  Celadon, deprived of the cup he had been gripping, drummed his fingers upon his gown for a moment before saying, "Our answer has been delayed because yours is not the first case of this sort that has been brought before the High Masters. Indeed, such role-playing has become increasingly common among slaves who seek to hide their perverseness from the world. I have recommended to the other High Masters that the law on perverseness be modified to permit such play, provided that it takes place discreetly and does not interfere with the duties of the pervert and his partner."

  There was a sudden sound of pottery crashing to the ground in one of the dark corners. The offending slave, white-faced, hastened to his knees to pick up the broken plate. The other slaves scrambled to help, carefully placing themselves in such a manner that their expressions were hidden from the masters.

  The masters in the chamber seemed just as shocked as the slaves. For a long moment, no one broke the silence; then Pentheus coughed and said, "Surely encouraging perverseness – whether it be willfulness or illness – is no kindness on the part of a master. I should think that it would be better to try to cure the pervert, if that is possible."

  Celadon hesitated before answering, his gaze suddenly shifting to the floor between himself and Pentheus. When he spoke again, his voice was soft. "If I thought all perverseness was curable, I would be tempted to take that path. But if it is not— We have been assuming throughout these centuries that perverseness can only bring evil to the Dozen Landsteads. Isn't it time to test whether it can bring good?"

  At these words, Sert's face turned so crimson that it appeared for a moment as though he would melt from the heat. Ledwin opened his mouth wide, apparently ready to let loose a roar; Pentheus, seeing this, swiftly asked, "Do the other High Masters agree with you about this?"

  Celadon raised his gaze
from the floor finally, shaking his head. "Not as of yet. They might be persuaded, though, if some of the lesser masters spoke to them on this matter."

  Now it was the lesser masters who averted their gazes, some of them turning to look toward the corner, where the slaves had finished sweeping up the broken crockery and were now returning stone-faced to their previous tasks. Again Pentheus broke the silence, and there was challenge in his voice as he said, "And if we should oppose such a revision of the law, master? Should we speak to the High Masters in that case?"

  All eyes turned toward Celadon. The High Master seemed to be having trouble replying; the ball in his throat bobbed several times, and his front teeth travelled out to capture his lower lip, before quickly releasing it.

  "I'm . . . not sure." Celadon's voice held a note of tentativeness that had not been present previously. "I will have to think on this. I'll give you my answer in the morning."

  As though this had been a signal, the scar-faced slave moved to the doors and pulled them open. Pentheus, taking the hint, rose to his feet and said, "It is late, master, and you have much work to do tomorrow in preparation for the quarterly. I will leave you now."

  The other masters rose to their feet as well, murmuring excuses. Amidst them, Nellwyn was silent, though the anger in her face had faded, and she gave Celadon a last lingering look, as though in assessment.