To Serve and Submit

by Susan Wright

Lexander gave Nerriviq a curt nod. “Stay with me, Marja,” he told me.

  He led the Thule to the mouth of the river that followed a crevice in the line of cliffs. Vidaris had been Lexander’s estate for nearly two decades, and he knew every step up the winding path along the river.

  As we climbed inland, twisty little demons, mere puffs of smoke, whipped branches into my face, seeking to tear out my eyes. The Thule chanted in low voices, begging the olfs to aid us. Those faithful creatures gathered around us, surrounding us in a warm glow and warding off the malevolent spirits.

  Some olfs flew ahead to light our way, while others dabbled in the dreams of those sleeping in Vidaris. A fussing baby was lulled by the gentle singing of a pair of olfs. Even the animals sighed and drowsed.

  We ducked under the bridge for the wagons and not far beyond was a ravine. One by one we pushed through the brush that filled the bottom of the gully, then climbed the crumbling sides into the fields. The oats were near ready for harvest, with the heads of the stalks glowing golden in the moonlight. The rich sound of insects buzzed around us.

  The olfs spun multicolored balls of light, floating everywhere. It showed me what Vidaris could have been if Helanas had not blighted the estate with her cruelty.

  When we finally reached the haushold, I was panting from withstanding the malicious pressure that was building around me. I feared one of the demons would wake Helanas and warn her about us.

  The servants had gone home to their own cots, so the kitchen was empty. Lexander lit a handful of candles from the rack, and conferred briefly with Nerriviq. The Thule split up, going in opposite directions to block any possibility of Helanas’ escape.

  I followed Lexander into the fire hall. Everything was achingly familiar, from the red brick walls to the padded benches set before the hearth. Nerriviq and his son followed us, stepping cautiously over the cool bricks and warily watched the towering ceiling far above them.

  Lexander motioned for the Thule to wait while he entered the smaller slave hall. Sleeping ledges lined both walls, but there were only six slaves now where once there had been a dozen.

  “Wake up,” Lexander called out softly, “but don’t be frightened. I’ve come to take you away.”

  I lifted my candle higher to see Niels sitting up, rubbing his eyes. It reminded me of my first morning in Vidaris when his face had been streaked with tears. The two Skraeling sisters huddled together, their long, dark hair tousled and their narrow eyes fearful at the reappearance of Lexander. Torngasoak was brave enough to put an arm around each of them. The two blond brothers from Fylkeran were confused, but in the scant few moons they had been in Vidaris, they had learned not to ask questions.

  Lexander went to check the other door. Niels stood hunched over as if expecting to be hit, whispering, “Marja, is that really you? Where are Sverker and Rosarin?”

  I was pained by the thought of what my slavemates suffered now in the hands of Lexander’s people. He had saved me from that fate, but my slavemates had not been so fortunate.

  Lexander returned. “Quiet, or you’ll wake Helanas.”

  The slaves went very still at her name. At our gentle urging, they followed us into the fire hall, scurrying in fear when they saw the Skraelings waiting for us. They clung to one another, including the Skraeling slaves who surely recognized the Thule as a northern clan.

  “Where’s Qamaniq?” Lexander asked.

  “She was summoned to Helanas’ chamber,” Niels offered.

  Lexander gestured to me. “Take them to the bath house, Marja. Stay there until I come for you.”

  He sounded much like the master of Vidaris that I remembered, though he had freed me himself a few days ago, before the battle of Tillfallvik.

  Lexander took Nerriviq through the courtyard. He meant to face down Helanas.

  I paused in the doorway to the kitchen, the slaves close behind me. “Niels,” I ordered, “take the others and go to the bathhouse.”

  “What about you?”

  “I’ll be there soon. Now go.”

  He gasped, shocked that I would defy our master. But he was accustomed to obedience and left without another word of protest. The baths were familiar. The slaves would be safe there.

  I went through the courtyard, and was surprised to see Lexander’s chamber was open. He appeared holding a long sword. It had an ornate guard on the handle, yet he held it lightly as if its weight were no burden.

  He glared when he saw me. “Go away!” he insisted under his breath.

  I set my lips and shook my head.

  He hesitated but could not take time to argue. The Thule blocked the hallway on either side of us, their spears pointing inward.

  Lexander handed the heavy casket to me, opening the top to pull out a key. With a motion of his hand to stay back, he threw open the door to Helanas’ chamber, rushing inside with the Thule warriors behind him. As I followed, my candle shook, casting wild shadows on the flowered tapestries that hung on the walls.

  Someone screeched in protest. I wasn’t sure if it was Helanas or Qamaniq. Then I saw the Skraeling woman on the floor, her dark hair a tangled mess and her body limp. I knew that Qamaniq was beyond suffering right now.

  Nerriviq’s kin picked up Qamaniq, exclaiming over her naked form. But I only had eyes for Helanas. My mistress was on her feet, a knife in her hand.

  Lexander caught her with the point of his sword against her throat. Her shapely body was bare. Many times had I caressed those generous curves and stroked my mistress until she writhed in pleasure. Yet Helanas had never smiled when she took her satisfaction, preferring to glower and furiously taunt the slave who served her even as she climaxed.

  With two steps, Lexander drove Helanas back against the tapestry until she could go no farther. “Drop your knife!”

  Helanas hesitated, her eyes taking in the Skraelings in the room. She sneered when she saw me. “That sly bitch! She’s seduced you from your duty, Lexander. You will live to rue the day you found her—”

  “Silence!” Lexander demanded.

  There was an edge to his voice that I had never heard. Perhaps Helanas was right that he would someday regret the choice he had made to leave Vidaris and abandon the ways of his own people. Perhaps he feared that fate more than anything else.

  “You drove him to it,” I told Helanas. “If only you had not been so cruel—”

  “You will not look at me, slave.” Her hand tightened on the knife. “Gesig!”

  My knees buckled in an unreasoning compulsion to obey. But I fought my trained reflexes and stayed on my feet, clutching the heavy casket tighter. The brass studs dug into my flesh, piercing the demon-roiled cloud that threatened to overcome me.

  Disgust twisted Helanas’ face, marring her satiny skin and perfect features. “Think of what you’ve done, Lexander! You can still rectify this terrible mistake. Stay here in Vidaris. I won’t tell Saaladet—”

  Helanas hardly shifted, but suddenly her knife slashed up.