Our Place

Treya stepped calmly from the carriage, gathering her silk dress in her small hand so that the fabric would not catch as the door shut behind her. Gracefully waving to dismiss the driver, she coughed slightly as the carriage left a rapidly growing dust cloud in wake. Treya waited until the cloud of dust had dissipated before turning back to the monumental structure, all black stone and iron, that the carriage had delivered her to.  With a sigh, she placed her feet one before the other, entering the imposing citadel quietly.

She passed through the gilded arches of the gateway with her eyes cast downward, oblivious to the rich draperies that hung throughout the corridor.  She ignored the quiet voices and foul stench of the next room, looking past the slaves in their dirty pens, paying no attention to the greedy buyers sizing up the day's offered merchandise.  A few eyes looked over the fine-tailored cloth around her neck, but looked away quickly upon noticing her master's name stitched into it.  Her steps echoed quietly as she made her way down a thin stone stairway into the structure's deepest reaches.  Watching the path by the torchlight, she finally stopped amidst iron bars, looking calmly into one of the cells.

After waiting for a brief lull in the distantly heard screams coming from farther down in the dark dungeon, she spoke, voice sultry and smooth.  "Arlon.  Are you there?"

A figure moved from the shadows covering the rear of the cell.  His face and clothes were dirty and his arms shackled.  Where Treya had a smooth wisp of cloth perfectly suited to her form, the prisoner she watched had a rough leather collar with a rusted buckle.  A rasping but proud voice came from within the miserable sot.  "I am."  Having been whipped only a few moments ago, the lashes on Arlon's back continued to weep small rivulets of blood.

Treya smiled despite his condition.  "As defiant as ever, old friend?"

"As defiant as any free person should be.  As defiant as you should be as well, young friend."

The woman's smile faded into a sad grin.  "I am not the one you wish to attack, so please do not take your frustrations out on me.  You and I both know this is unnecessary.  If you were only less hostile towards your master..."  Her voice faltered slightly before increasing in volume.  "Your master is not an unkind man, you know this.  You would have been friends with him under different circumstances."

The chained man snarled his reply, "If circumstances involved my freedom, I would have no quarrel with him!  I was free before I was beaten in battle, why should I act any different as a slave?  I am a free man, whether anyone else chooses to believe so or not!  I will not surrender my freedom because another has me in chains!"

Treya didn't flinch at his tone, but frowned as he finished.  "I have not surrendered my freedom, I have accepted the freedom I have available to me.  You are chained in a cell, you have no freedom right now.  You can fight against it all you like, but your freedom has been taken from you.  All you have now is your desire for greater freedom, and it is causing you pain and suffering that will have no result.  You will gain nothing from your struggles and pain except more struggling and more pain."

"I cannot accept this!  I cannot accept life as a slave.  I have a right to live as I choose.  I have a right to say what I will without fear.  I have a right to fight for what I believe and no one can takes these rights away from me!" His voice, rasping and strained adopted an even tone as he continued, "I believe that this evil cannot be tolerated.  If I stop fighting, then by my silence I concede and grant my approval.  I do not condone this practice, and I do not concede that any man is master over me.  To act in any way other than I am right now would betray the spirit of these beliefs."

The woman shook her head sadly.  "I understand what you are saying, but I fear that you are allowing your pride to destroy you.  There are certain things in life you cannot change.  Your struggles to end your own slavery will not end your slavery.  You can fight for as long as you like, but sooner or later your master will tire of giving you second chances and send you to the pens, where a truly cruel master can take you, torture you, and kill you at his or her whim."

"And that is exactly why I cannot surrender!  That is what I cannot accept!  My life has more value than as a brief thrill, but only a matter of luck has prevented me from meeting that fate already.  I killed at the command of your master, as a soldier, and even I recognize life as having more value than that.  I cannot, by action or inaction, condone a system that allows this evil."

Treya's eyes sharpened into an angry frown.  "You can disagree with something without directly fighting it.  Your action goes unseen, your cries unheard.  Silence does not mean acceptance. Think, you cannot make a difference from this cell, and this cell is all you will see if you do not accept your place."  Her expression softened again to sadness as she turned back towards the stairs.  "Whether you can agree with life or not there are always certain things about it you cannot change.  You must take those things as life gives them to you and decide to either live with them or die.  You may die if you wish, but do not think your struggle will change anything.  Slaves have no use for martyrs."  A single tear fell from her cheek as she began to walk away, to her room in the upper floors.

"But do not think that because you are a slave you will not be missed."