Sleepy Decisions

It took Lem a few minutes to realize that his tired eyes were now being allowed to slide closed without feeling the burning pain of the mark of thrall on his forehead. It took him a few more seconds after that to realize what it meant. When Lady Nassau had told him 'you should sleep,' she'd not just been saying it for the fun of it. She'd meant it as a revocation of her previous order. Lem was allowed to sleep, now.

If only he knew where he was allowed to do that.

Moving slowly, just in case he was wrong, Lem leaned against the wall. When nothing happened, he slid down it until he was in a vaguely comfortable crouch. Leaning his head back against the cool stone, he sighed heavily. He couldn't sleep here, could he? Technically, Lem had learned from a young age to sleep anywhere. But he was pretty sure it would be seen as improper if he were to fall asleep here, on the floor, just outside Lady Nassau's chambers. Knowing that he shouldn't sleep in the middle of a corridor was really just common sense. Not only was it probably rude, someone might trip over him. Though he'd noticed that very few thralls seemed to make their way down this corridor, so maybe he could avoid that indignity, at least.

He sighed, well aware that his mind was turning down paths that were not actionable. True, he had the knowledge that sleeping here in the corridor was tasteless. That wasn't actually helping him, though, because it got him no closer to knowing where he could sleep. All he'd managed to do with his musings was restrict his options to places that were not public corridors.

For a moment, Lem considered going back to the weapons' room that knowledge Dav had shown him. It hadn't seemed fitted with any beds, or even any reasonably comfortable places to sleep. But that wasn't as terrible as some might think. Lem very rarely had a comfortable place to sleep - his bed in the lower manor was lumpy and hard, and even that luxury had been hard-won. If he went back to the weapons room, he would be able to sleep on the floor. He might even use the too-big clothes as padding to make the ground a bit softer. But he wasn't sure if that was allowed, and even if it was, sleeping on dead men's clothes seemed to be in even worse taste than sleeping in a corridor.

He would have gone back to his old room, except that he wasn't sure if he was allowed back in the lower levels of the manor. He'd heard that there were places in the upper manor for the thralls who served here. But he had no idea where those rooms were, or how to get there from here. He was really, truly, stuck. Having weighed his options, Lem realized there really wasn't any other choice. He would be sleeping in the corridor this day.

Groaning softly, Lem shifted his weight, kicking one leg out from under him, staring dispassionately at the wall across from him. He leaned forward, resting his chin on his knee, still tucked close to his chest, grimacing a little at how the new belt he wore dug into his stomach at that angle. He should probably loosen it. Instead, he remained in his semi-comfortable position, and imagined how angry Lady Nassau might be when she returned to find him sleeping here. If he was lucky, another thrall would find him first. Maybe they would direct him to the appropriate place to sleep.

Lem wasn't lucky, though.

With a groan, Lem bent his head down, curving his back so he could rest his forehead on his knee, instead. He closed his eyes and tried to settle his mind. He knew that sleeping here would be a stupid decision. But he wasn't sure how stupid. At this point, he almost welcomed a glimpse into the rage of Lady Nassau. She had been so composed in their first conversation, so calm, even in the wake of her father's death. He knew nothing about her, couldn't begin to guess what might push her to lose that cool exterior and reveal the monster hiding beneath her skin.

He knew very well what it was like to earn the ire of the late Lord Nassau, and how terrible it felt to be on the receiving end. He had scars upon scars, and he'd been utterly beneath his former master's notice. But Lady Nassau was almost entirely unknown to him, unknown to most of the remaining thralls in the manor. The ones below, in particular, knew very little about her, and spoke infrequently of her.

If she was the type to become angry over something as silly as a thrall sleeping in the corridors, it might be better to know that now. It would be useful knowledge for him to share with the other thralls who had been transferred from below to the upper manor in the wake of the many vacancies Lord Nassau's death had precipitated.

Decision made, Lem sat back up. He reached down, loosening the belt around his waist a little, and kicked out his other foot, crossing his legs at the ankle before leaning back to once more rest his head against the cool stone wall. He thought it might take him a little while to fall asleep, given how uncomfortable his position was, but he was exhausted, and sleep came to him with little difficulty.