One hundred and thirty-three: Eight in seven

My Master was silent.

"Let me take her out back home for a holiday. Help her remember who she is and was again. Let me take her back for a time and then let her make her own willing, conscious decision where she wants to go."

"If she strays far from my side, she will die," my Master said. "It's what the Doc did. He didn't want to give her another chance. If she is not with me, she will fade away and die."

"Then let her die if she wants. At least it would be her own free choice," the Vulture argued. "What happens if you die?"

"She will be set free. It was all I could do."

All this talking of choosing and dying was inappropriate. I brought the tea on a tray with some cookies I had baked yesterday and served the men, before retreating to the kitchen.

"Wait," the Vulture held his hand out to me and gestured for me to return.

"Is something not to your liking, my lord?" I asked. This man was somewhat difficult to please, but it was my job to please him. So long as my Master did not become unhappy, I should do everything within my abilities to cheer him up. "Then should I serve you more closely?"

I reached for his belt, but he leapt up and away with horror, shouting at my Master.

"You idiot! What have you turned her into? Don't you know that you have thrown away almost all her human rights?"

My Master only hung his head and I frowned. I didn't understand. Since I didn't understand, it must be to do with matters between men.

"The other slaves I have met in the past did not behave like this," the Vulture scolded, "and yet you - you - "

The Vulture had turned purple with fury and made choking sounds. He collapsed onto the couch, gasping for air.

"Master," I said. "Your distinguished guest looks unwell. Should I call the ambulance?"

"No," a firm hand shook in the air, and the Vulture spoke between breaths. "No. Just give me a moment. Sit down, Jean. Sit down, girl."

Looking to my Master, he sighed and nodded, looking at me.

"Sit," he said. And so I sat. Then my Master looked at his friend. "Are you sure you don't want to go to the hospital? You don't look too good."

"I'm fine," snapped the Vulture's cold voice. "Never been better."

"Have some tea," my Master gestured. "She makes good tea and biscuits."

"Jean made them? Do you ever call her by her name anymore?" the Vulture asked, picking up his tea and trying a cookie. "Mmm," he said bobbing his head. "I didn't know she was talented in culinary arts as well."

"Me neither," my Master admitted. "Until after the last child. The doctor ordered she take a break from having anymore children and so she took up baking so that she could at least send something to all the children."

"Jean," the Vulture turned to look into my eyes. "How many children have you had?"

"I have borne the Master five boys and three girls," I replied calmly.

"In seven years?"

"Yes," I said, frowning a little at the man's shock. Was it so odd?

The glance he cast at my Master was an unfriendly one, but my Master only sipped his tea as if he had not seen it.

"Where are your children?"

"They are at school."

"How are your children? What are their names?"

I paused and looked at my Master for help, but he only looked at his tea cup and continued sipping his tea. He nibbled on his cookie.

"This slave does not know," I said eventually, starting to feel a little pressure.

"Tell me," the Vulture pressed, "do you ever see your children?"

"This slave is only a slave. It does not have the status nor ability to raise children in the rightful way. This slave is only worthy to bear the children. Others of higher and better status raise the children. This slave is not permitted to look upon such exalted personages."

"WHAT?" the Vulture roared, choking on tea and cookie, devolving into a coughing fit, while he glared at my Master as if he wanted to kill him. He swore and cursed, but my Master did not flinch. I did.

"Look at her," my Master said. "Look at her now. What she's like. How is she a fit mother?"

"You made her have eight children in seven years, took the children from the mother and the mother from the children. She doesn't even know their names. What kind of a monster are you?"

"She's not going to leave with you," my Master said in a mild tone. "Go on. Ask her."

"Jean, I'm taking you away," the Vulture said. "I'm taking you to visit your brother and your parents. I'm taking you to visit your own home, city and friends. You used to say that you only wanted to go home to your parents. Will you come with me?"

"This slave is already home," I replied, not understanding what this strange man with mood swings was trying to tell me. I just wished he would go home and stop disrupting the peace. "This slave will not go anywhere without the Master."

"You can go if you like," my Master told me, looking at me in the eyes.

"This slave does not wish to go anywhere," I said. "This slave will stay with the Master."

The Vulture gnashed his teeth together, stood up and left.

"Slave," said my Master while the Vulture was still making his way to the door, "set an extra place at the table tonight. Alistair will be dining with us for dinner."

"Yes, Master. As you will."