The night had passed without further incident. However, such luck did not extend into the morning. The servants had arrived ridiculously early, before any in the room had woken. They were not quiet in their preparations as the women poured through the door, carrying food, drink, bathing water and other items Trivalm didn't recognize.
Perhaps Sarantha had reason to be upset over such intrusions.
At first, she had rolled to her other side and pulled the blanket over her head. It worked only for a moment before one of the servants, a woman similar in age to Sarantha, boldly pulled the blanket from her. Sarantha forced herself to a seated position, eyes narrowed at the woman, venom in her gaze. When the woman spoke, it was in clipped tones. She used no title, made no show of respect. Trivalm felt his temper rise at the blatant disregard the woman had for Sarantha's position. He did not like the woman, but there was a drastic difference between liking a person and respecting their position.
Ebon and Ivory were released from their cage by a young woman. Ivory immediately crawled onto the bed to lay curled against Sarantha's legs as Ebon released Trivalm from his manacle. It did not escape his notice that Sarantha trusted the slave with the keys. He wondered if the slave was normally locked in at night. Trivalm was allowed to see to morning necessities with Ebon standing near, he assumed in case of any misbehavior, as the servants milled around the room. After he finished, he sat quietly on his bed, trying to learn the morning routine of his new Mistress.
Ebon seemed to be the sole caretaker of Ivory. He saw to the small woman's morning cleansing then spent several minutes massaging scented oil into her skin. More time than was necessary was spent running a fine comb through the girl's nearly white hair. He even styled the long strands, shocking Trivalm with such a skill. When breakfast was served to them in the room, the large man shared a plate with her, ensuring that she ate enough, and got only the foods she seemed to like, before he even took his first bite.
Sarantha didn't argue as she drank what seemed to be an endless procession of potions handed to her. She did not resist when she was hand fed her breakfast by a servant. She did not complain when a healer massaged her body from neck to feet, skipping only her breasts, swollen belly, and groin, with scented oils. She did not utter a single word as she was bathed by more servants than what seemed necessary. She did not tense as a healer moved her body into different positions, stretching muscles. She did not move as servants dressed her in a simple maternity dress.
Her anger only exploded when one of the women pushed Ivory aside, sending the slight creature sprawling to the floor. She went from a lifeless puppet, amenable to the servant's care, to a screaming, raging beast, anything within arm's reach hurled at the rapidly retreating women, every one of the items bouncing off of the women's backs. She fumed for several minutes after the room emptied, watching as Ebon pulled the little blond onto his lap to stroke and soothe her. Anger blazed in his eyes. Even so, his actions were gentle.
Servants trickled into the room, taking positions along the walls. Anytime Sarantha reached for something, a servant was there first. Finally, she pulled her blanket back over her herself and contended herself with petting Ivory.
Soon after, Sarantha came into the room. The two women sat and talked for some time about various subjects. While the effects of Sarantha's pregnancy was discussed in explicit detail, many of those details Trivalm had no desire to know, the issue of her restrictions was never broached. Both women seemed to enjoy the private conversation. Aside from petting Ivory's head, Alaliya never acknowledged any of the slaves, and only acknowledged the servants when she called for something. When the women seemed to finish talking, Alaliya made some flippant comment about her husband having an easy morning and needing to fix that before sashaying out the door.
Midday meal was served in the room, Ebon settling Sarantha's fare near her before again sharing his plate with Ivory in the same manner as morning meal. Again, Trivalm was surprised at both the quantity and quality of food the slaves were allowed.
Finally, Sarantha moved to her reading chair and called her slaves to join her. Ebon and Ivory thought nothing of immediately following the directive. The chair was large enough that Ebon was able to curl himself behind Sarantha, his hands gently massaging her shoulders. Unlike when she had been massaged earlier, Sarantha seemed relaxed, content. Happy. Ivory knelt at her feet, her head resting on Sarantha's thigh as her head was again pet like an animal. There seemed to be something infinitely soothing in the gesture, but Trivalm couldn't imagine what.
"Choose a story, little slave. Read to me."
It was the last thing that Trivalm had expected. He moved to the bookshelf, glancing at the titles. He didn't recognize many of the stories, and was surprised that many of the books were not stories but military instructions. Not wanting the closest thing to Sarantha, which happened to be a large, thick book balanced on the chair's arm, hurled at his head, Trivalm quickly chose a book which seemed to contain many short children's stories.
The first one was about a Keeper who fell in love with a slave, but was married to a slave trader. It did not have a happy ending.
Sarantha gigged when he slowly raised his eyes to hers. "Interesting choice, little slave. Have you decided yet what you want to learn?"
"I've learned what I need to know, Mistress."
Sarantha made that same humming sound that he was quickly learning heralded trouble. "Very well." She stood and began to move toward the door. "Come, my pets. Tomorrow morning, we will stop and introduce our new little slave to his instructors."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Trivalm was allowed to walk unchained, nobody giving him much attention. He wasn't dumb enough to think to misbehave in any way. Any move would require planning and careful, thought out decisions.
Sarantha looked regal in her dress made of several lengths of earth colored, draping fabrics. With each step she took, part of her creamy thigh would be revealed, only to disappear before reappearing with her next step. She wore no jewelry, and had her hair pulled back from her face in a simple style that allowed it to flow down her back. He had been supplied a clean pair of pants, but no shirt or shoes. Ebon was similarly clothed, but was wore a simple pair of shoes. The large man had clothed Ivory in pale, but somehow still colorful fabrics wrapped several times around her slim waist. By the time he was done, there were several layers of skirts that created a rainbow down her thighs. Her breasts were covered by a thin piece of fabric that was tied behind her back.
Ebon had left the room to retrieve the girl's clothing. Nobody had stopped him. Nobody had asked where he was going. It seemed the slave was allowed to come and go as he pleased. Trivalm made a mental note to find out how far Ebon's freedoms extended.
When they left the room, several servants walked with them, forming a loose bubble around the pregnant woman. A few of them tried to walk between the woman and her slaves, but a decorative vase plucked from a table sent flying through the air easily dissuaded them. Trivalm noticed that it wasn't so much he or Ebon that she had an issue being separated from, but Ivory. No matter where the girl went, Sarantha's gaze followed, making Trivalm wonder if the girl was commonly mistreated the way she had been that morning.
Ivory, for her part, seemed oblivious to anything around her, frolicking and darting ahead only to turn around and skip back. Occasionally, she would slide over to Ebon, who would stroke her hair or face affectionately before allowing her to twirl away. At one point, she skipped in circles around Trivalm as he walked. When he didn't engage with her shenanigans, she took his hand to try to make him twirl and dance with her.
He snatched his hand back, using his command voice without realizing, causing the girl to flinch at his harsh tone. "Do not dare to-"
