Edward listened raptly.
Nightfall had never considered himself much of a storyteller, but he continued, not wholly decided on the course of the tale. "Yet, though he saved all three lives, the Healer had done one thing wrong. In his haste, he had pulled Ursid out first, though Brionfra, with his little head jammed in the birth canal, was nature’s choice for elder prince. Ursid became the heir, Brionfra cheated of his birthright.”
"Not cheated." Edward cut in. "Not really.”
Nightfall shrugged. "It seemed that way to him, and that’s really all that matters here. Brionfra spent most of his life trying to regain the authority he had lost through accident of birth. He surrounded himself with servants, gradually increasing their dependence on and debt to him until they became the slaves we know now."
Prince Edward shuddered, as if the words, by themselves, caused him pain.
"The king and other nobles saw the following Brionfra had gained, the work it saved him, and the authority he possessed. Impressed, they gathered slaves of their own. Most, as Brionfra’s, began as servants. Others, particularly women, came as debts collected. More than one father sold his daughter for money he either could not gather or could not part with. Still more came as war spoils; those who could not be cowed used to fight one another as entertainment.”
Prince Edward’s eyes sparkled with the driving need that had become too familiar to Nightfall. He rose and paced, working off the energy injustice inspired.
Nightfall eased up on the detail, afraid to lose his point by firing up the prince too much. "Ursid hated what his twin had started. Believing slavery evil, he set out one day to free them all. So, while his family slept, he gathered the kept-ones. Those chained were unbound. Those imprisoned were freed. Ursid rallied them all together and spoke of creating a new city of free men and women. He released the most vicious of the fighting slaves last…”
Nightfall paused dramatically. "The wild man’s last act was to kill Ursid, elder prince of Hartrin.”
Edward stopped in mid-pace, whirling to face his squire. "This is a true story?"
Nightfall nodded. "Details become obscured or embellished as tales get passed. But this event is recorded in history." Nightfall hoped Edward’s books contained some tidbit that could be interpreted to substantiate his claim. "Like the animal they named him, the slave enjoyed the slaughter that had been his lot."
"What happened to the others?" Edward asked the obvious question.
"They scattered, of course. Out of fear the fighting slave might kill them, too. Or that they might get in trouble for escaping."
"Or to keep their freedom."
"Of course. But that seemed less likely. Within one moon cycle, three quarters of the slaves returned, begging forgiveness."
Edward continued to stare. "They came back? Why?"
Nightfall plucked at his sleeve, feeling disloyal for the lie. He tried to quell his discomfort with the knowledge that his story might bring some enlightenment to the prince, might save them both from wasted time, ridicule, and violence. "Guaranteed food and reasonable shelter. A place to call home and a daily routine that did not rely on becoming the toughest person on the streets." He met Edward’s soft, blue eyes. "Loyalty. That, I understand.”
A pink tinge further softened Edward’s young features. He mulled the words in silence.
“Master." Nightfall delivered a blow he doubted Edward could fend. "Even if the law came down from Alyndar that all servants who did not go would officially become slaves, I would not leave you." Not without having my soul ripped from my body and tortured through eternity.
The prince’s lips pinched, and he seemed torn between tears and rage. "That could never happen. My father would never make such a decree."
Nightfall said nothing. The unlikelihood of the proclamation did not dilute the sentiment much.
"You’re paid for your work."
"I’ve already told you I’m not.”
"You will be when we return to Alyndar."
I "I will not accept it if you offer."
Prince Edward again took a seat on his pallet, all fire draining from him. "Why are doing this to me?"
Nightfall wished he could take pleasure from the prince’s discomfort, but he could not help thinking of his master as a fellow victim. Now that Edward showed some signs of acting with his head instead of his heart, Nightfall found a new respect. "Because you’re good and noble. Because the Father believes in you, and I can do no less."
"That’s not what I meant." Prince Edward leaned an elbow on his knee, burying his chin in his cupped palm. "Why are you comparing your lot to slavery? Do I treat you so badly?"
"Badly?" Nightfall adopted a stricken look. "Master, no servant has ever been happier. All servants and slaves should have a master as kind as you." He smiled. "And some probably do. As you say, there is good in every man."
"Good in every man," Edward repeated aloud as he considered the deeper implications. "Yes." At length, he shook his head. "I need to think a while. I’m just not ready to believe that people owning others is anything but evil. I don’t think I ever will be."
Nightfall seized on Edward’s introspection. "You’ve attended court. How do nobles react when they lose large amounts of something: power, money, land?"
"Not well," Edward admitted. "They always argue. More than one war has started that way."
"And if those same things get phased away slowly, one compromise at a time?"
"It’s happened. That’s how the peninsula came together under one king. Took longer than a century. No blood-shed."
Nightfall played his card. "So, if a leader gradually empowered the slaves… say, gave them a few rights or alternatives to slavery besides theft or fighting over crumbs in the streets. If slaves could choose their masters, that might encourage slavers to treat their charges better. Or make some minimal standards for slave care: fewer hours, shelter, and reasonable amounts of food…" Nightfall rambled with little coherency, never having needed to find solutions. Always before, he had simply survived, yet the knowledge he had inadvertently gathered along the way gave him a solid foundation for change. Though he told himself he was merely finding a way to cool Edward’s dangerous ardor, he could not help getting swept up in the excitement now that reasonable alternatives fell into consideration.
Edward sat quietly for several moments, staring at the ceiling, his only movement the drumming of his fingers against the pallet. "Sudian, thank you."
Nightfall cocked his head, trying to look suitably modest. "Thank me, Master?"
"For showing me how to translate book knowledge into strategy. For reminding me that words on a page mean little without reality, and that the tactics of war have application to conflict of every type."
The series of larger words at the end of Edward’s explanation confused Nightfall, but he caught the gist well enough. Before he could think of a humble reply, the prince swept him into an embrace.
Shocked nearly to panic by the contact, Nightfall struggled against the need to bully free. The sincere warmth of Edward’s embrace was unmistakable, as telling as the most tender of his mother’s moments, those occasional times when she convinced him she would never batter him again despite past promises and pain. Nightfall suppressed the natural feelings of caring and trust that always rose in the wake of another’s honest vulnerability and kinship, hating himself for what he saw as a weakness. He had opened himself once and might still pay with his soul. Every instinct told him to seize the moment, to find some use for the newfound depth of loyalty the prince felt toward him. Yet, the effort of keeping his own emotions in check occupied him fully. And it seemed so outside his nature, too like the frailty that had gotten him into trouble with Kelryn, that it maddened him.
Edward released Nightfall, but the same innocent fondness filled his expression and his eyes. He smiled. "There are customs and rules to the relationship between noble and squire that I won’t violate. But, when we’re alone, you may call me Ned."