The Life of a Tere Slave

3: Joss

               After the party, it was an early to bed and an early rise the next morning.  Wist was already beginning to adapt to the flow of things.  She was right on time this morning.  Maries’s food didn’t have a chance to be cold, but wasn’t scalding hot either.

               Maries finished up her breakfast and walked over to the veranda.  Wist settled down next to her and helped her mistress get dressed.  “Wist, did you hear me and the girls talking about Cory yesterday?”

               “Yes, I did, ma’am.”

               “And her servant?”

               “Yes, I did, ma’am.” Wist echoed.

               “He really is attractive.  If he weren’t a servant, he’d have no trouble living a pampered life,” She said.

               Wist was very curious about this boy, “Have you... have you...”

               “Have I bought him?  No, I haven’t,” Maries smirked.  Wist swallowed hard trying to hold back her disgust and the lump of nervousness forming in her throat.

               Maries registered this and then said quickly, “Oh, dear.  You have nothing to worry about.  I’m not going to be selling you.”  Wist offered a small smile in an attempt to tell Maries that she understood.  “Now,” Maries said.  “Since we have the Srais’s party tonight, you must prepare an outfit for me and for yourself.  There should be a party dress or two in your closet that you can chose from.  Go and show me the one you like.”

               Wist nodded and retreated to her bedroom quickly.  She opened the closet and peeked inside.  The dresses were farther back.  She pushed herself through the clothes to get to the dresses.  She swept her hands over the delicate fabrics.  Once again she was floored by the wealth of these people.  Even the slaves could dress extravagantly.

               When she pulled a black and white dress down by the hanger, she got a peek at the back of the closet wall.  Wist stopped in her tracks, the dress still clutched in her hands.  There was an engraving in the wooden backing of the closet.  She ran her fingers gently over the scratch.  It seemed odd that such a pristine household would tolerate anything below perfection.  Out of curiosity, Wist shoved all of the clothes to one side to realize that there was more to the scratch.

                “Never forget,” was cut roughly into the back of the closet.  It had been hidden by the surplus of clothes.  But now Wist saw it plainly.  It was the same handwriting as in the calendar on her desk.  But there was something different here.  This was angrier.  Cruder.  It looked like it had been carved in a fit of rage or anguish.  Wist ran her fingers over the markings and shivers ran up her spine.

               “Wist!” A harsh snap echoed from the room over.  She jumped at the noise and quickly moved the clothes back into place, hiding the writing.  Wist grabbed the black and white dress and brought it back to Maries.

               “Ah!  I love that one!  Good choice,” Maries said, clapping her hands together enthusiastically.  The smile disappeared from her face at one point though, “Oh, dear.  You’re so pale.  What is the matter?”

               “Nothing, miss,” I responded.

               “Alright,” Maries moved on quickly.  “Go pick a dress for me now.”

               Wist put the dress on the back of one of the chairs and hurried into the walk in closet.  She wandered over toward the dozens of dresses and leafed through them.  She found one that she thought was absolutely stunning.  Wist quickly brought it out to Maries.