Voices of Humanity

Chapter Fifty-Two

Days went by as I, lost in a mix of fear and anxiety, continued to avoid Magnus.

Revelations on the potential my new existence might hold were no help in dictating what I might do next. I now knew how I might use my new position to help others, as my mother had always made clear as my purpose in life. As Dreda had done in her selfless sacrifice. But I did not know one crucial fact. Did I still hold the esteem of the one who could make my plans a reality?

Magnus had not called for the authorities to take me away, but he had also avoided me since the dinner conversation at which I had affirmed my full culpability in the brutal slaughter of his own kind. Surely he understood by now that I had orchestrated the rebellion. I'd all but admitted it outright! Hardly a basis to build a trusting bond. How could he understand the level of horror Dulane had inflicted upon us? Even if I were to reveal all, there was no guarantee it would change anything in his mind.

Magnus was a sibla in the human meat trade. From all I had overheard, that was his family's legacy as well. He had no real reason to trust me any more than his brother did. And when he inevitably came to the same conclusion Torvald had in seeing the threat I posed, what might happen then?

With these questions swirling in my brain, I did my best to simply avoid the man, delaying the inevitable confrontation and the answers I wasn't certain I wanted to face.

Still even more disturbing were the questions I asked in my own self-reflection. What if Magnus was willing to hear me. Take the advice of a human on the purchase and eventual harvest of her own species. Would I finally be condemning myself to become exactly the monster I'd worked so hard to avoid? A greyskin beyond redemption. Even if doing so might be the only way to truly affect any positive influence on my new Master's business, the ramifications were overwhelming if I allowed myself to dwell on them too long.

  To quiet my troubled mind I worked myself as hard as I could considering my continued fatigue and lingering injuries. I could only hope that in proving myself as a truly obedient slave Magnus would overlook my past transgressions. Come to believe that I could be trusted. Maybe in continuing to serve, I could learn to find comfort with my new potential position....

And yet, every night when I returned to the room far too opulent to hold a human, I could not help but fear that this too was a prison, a new form of torture. That I was merely biding time before my execution. Perhaps that was all life had become for humans, farm-bred or free.

Though I was no longer in pain and surrounded by more luxury than I could have dreamed, I felt a similar anxiety nagging at my brain as I'd experienced in my cell. Any day Magnus might come and remove his protection. Any day I might be dragged away to answer for my crimes now that I had confessed. Even if he decided to forgive my past transgressions, in doing so he would only further cement my debt towards him for sparing my life. The idea that I might somehow have any power over his decisions for the future became more ludicrous the more I thought on it.

  But as a full week passed and Magnus did not seek me out, I became more comfortable in my discomfort. I knew what I had to do if given the chance to have influence. I knew too what I would do if I did not.

If I was offered voice in Magnus's new trade? I would speak. If I faced the slaughter before I could attempt such influence? I would accept death willingly, finally finding release from this world as I was meant to in my cell. Having control of my intended reactions to forces I could not predict helped me gain some sense of  power, even if I had none to influence which outcome I would face.

———

    It was nearly two weeks later that I was surprised by a knock on the door to my room. The hour was late, but I'd been unable to sleep, instead, taking up one of the books on a shelf in the guest room and trying to tire my mind enough for true rest. I knew Magnus was the only member of the household who might still be awake and was almost amused by his knocking. This was his estate. I had no rights to privacy. But again I heard the soft rap of a knuckle against wood when I failed to respond. Then the kindly voice followed.