Nitya gazed at Kai. She knew, of course, that he had been more abused as a slave than she had been. She was bought to be a pretty trophy, so they didn't beat her and always fed her. Of course, that was in part because she, just like him, always behaved. But the fact that he felt grateful for food was more than she was expecting.

"I'm not sure, not yet," Nitya replied gently. "But maybe it is time to make the long trek back to Yoreiq."

"A slave of mine can have all the opinions they want," Nitya replied sharply. "And a slave will always have opinions, they are just taught to hide them. If you don't like how food tastes, I would much rather have you tell me. I will simply get you new food."

Nitya drank the rest of her lemonade then, with a big smile, responded, "Ah yes, rule number eight. Well then, let me ask you this—if you did not like the soup, would you still have been eating it?" She had a feeling the answer would be no. "Or would you have told me without me asking?"

"I'm glad you like it, though I suppose I do not know if you're actually telling the truth," Nitya responded. "Is there any thing you would like to do after this? I have no idea what is going on in town, but I would assume there has to be some shows and music or other things." She normally spent most of her free mornings wandering around town, buying things or looking for potential costumers, and then spent her evenings in her room, reading about one thing or another. She wasn't used to having to entertain someone other than herself.

"A number of weeks, probably," Nitya responded. "Depends on how well things sell, and how long it takes me to find things to sell out of Essyrn. And the weather, of course. Do you like the soup?"

Nitya tried to figure out why he had asked that. Was he planning on looking for his sister? Did he want to stay? Or did he want to get out of the country, and out of slavery? Or perhaps he was just curious.

Nitya did not want to explain how she came about buying him. Either she would have to tell the truth, or at least most the truth, which would be followed by a very long and confusing explanation, or she would have to lie, which she was not in the mood to do. "I was in a peculiar situation," she finally replied. "And I do not need a reader. Rather, I just need someone to help me carry things around, set up my stall, talk to customers, deal with money—ah, when the customer would allow you to—, take down my stall, and possibly, when we are elsewhere, help me buy things to trade later on. I told you before that everyone needs multiple skills to survive, and that fighting was one of the most important. For me, trading is another. I doubt it would hurt for you to learn a little bit about it."

"I bought you, didn't I?" asked Nitya. "You already heard my opinions on slavery. Do you honestly think it's my goal to use you or anything of the sort? But at this point, I can't just let you go. In Essyrn, in particular, you could pretty easily get brought back to the slave market. And gaining freedom elsewhere is pointless if you don't have a goal. Anyway, having an assistant for a little while doesn't seem too detrimental."

Nitya laughed, much louder than she meant to. "Good," she said, still chuckling. "Stay outspoken. I certainly will, and you have every right to as well. You don't need to apologize though, apologies do little for me. If I was mad at you, I doubt a "forgive me" or a "sorry" would fix much. So speak, and speak bravely. Ah, around me, that is. I don't think either of us are foolish enough to say that a slave could be outspoken to most people in Essyrn, or any other slave nation."

The food came and Nitya continued talking. "I would agree with all you said—including the maybe you used in the beginning. I do mean well, though I am horribly selfish at the same time. I would say I think I understand you life better than I do, but the most I can do thus far to understand you is make assumptions. And I do have some experience with slavery myself, though we shall leave it at that." She paused. "My parents were not slaves though, I will say that. And although I cannot say I am 'both older and younger than my years' as you claim, you are not the first one to say that to me."

Nitya tried some of her soup—surprisingly good, she decided, given that she had never thought cucumbers had must taste. She thought a little more about the last thing he had said, that she was trying to save him. Was that true? Her original goal, thanks to how vividly he felt, was to save his sister. "I take back what I said earlier," Nitya stated slowly. "I don't agree with everything you said. I don't think I am trying to save you, as you claim. If anything, I am trying to take responsibility." And, she was starting to realize, maybe she was trying to save herself.

Nitya paused, thinking over Kai's words. "Let me ask a different question, then. Based on your short time of knowing me, tell me who you think I am. And you can say whatever you want, however offensive, as long as you keep it quiet." She smiled. "I think I have made enough assumptions about you for you to feel comfortable telling me your assumptions about me, no? I won't punish you, you know that."

Nitya shook her head. "No, I reckon you are quite wrong. I have known you for a matter of hours, and can explain you in a more complex way than you have yourself. If nothing else, I had at least expected you to say you are a loving and caring brother who does all he can to protect his sister." She got quieter again, not wanting anyone to hear the somewhat controversial things she was saying. "And you ask why you should think deeper into it? That is easy—what if you are free someday? If all you know yourself as is a slave, how are you going to live?"

Nitya clicked her tongue and leaned over the table, closer to Kai. Quietly, so no one else and the cafe would hear, she said, "You see—that's the issue. You're defining yourself as a slave. You might be a slave, but is that who you are? I define myself as a traveling trader, but only because that is what I chose for myself. And I don't believe being a trader is all there is to me, either. I am a trader because of who I am and what I can do. But you are not a slave because of that. You are a slave because of unfortunate situations at unfortunate times."

She paused, leaned back, and took a sip of her lemonade. "That's why I asked. Don't you ever question who you really are?"

Nitya ordered two chilled cucumber soups with bread on the side. Kai's constant thanking of her reminded her of when she had first become free and was truly treated well. She hadn't felt entitled to any love, respect, or kindness. Things that most people would consider normal had felt like blessings to her.

"Tell me, Kai, how would you describe yourself?" asked Nitya after a short while.

Nitya laughed at how nervous Kai seemed to be before trying the lemonade. But he liked it, which she was glad of. She made lemonade whenever she could while traveling. "It tastes like lemons if you don't add much sugar," Nitya responded while wrinkling her nose. "But I have no clue who would want that."

She took a sip of her own lemonade, and smiled pleasantly. Sometimes they didn't add as much sugar as she liked, but they did this time. "So, what would you like to eat? A salad? A sandwich? Some soup?"

"A drink," Nitya replied simply. "It's normally sour, which I think tastes bad, so I add in a lot of sugar to make it sweet." The waiter returned with their two lemonades and Nitya asked for more time to order. "Try it, if you don't like it I will get you something else."

Nitya sighed and shook her head. She wished she could look into his eyes, and reassure him that that was not her plan for him, but it was too risky. "Sit down," she said. Just as she was about to continue, the waiter walked up.

"I'll have a lemonade, extra sweet please." Nitya told the young waiter. It wasn't custom for slaves to order their own food and drink, so she added, "Make that two, actually." She hoped he liked sugar.

The water left and Nitya looked down across the table. "I would never make you a gladiator. Anyone can tell, just by looking at you, that you wouldn't last one match. But even besides that, it is a cruel fate to be trapped within the colosseum. The fact that some people choose such a thing has always perplexed me. But, unfortunately, life is just a bigger, more complex colosseum. You must fight for your life daily, in one way or another, and can never fully trust anyone. Every skill you have can help you and, the sad reality is, being able to fight is one of the best skills out there. Remember what I told you? I am a traveler. I have encountered bandits, thugs, and general ruffians. If you are to travel with me, and, in your future, when you are to travel without me, you should learn how to fight."

"But you've never been trained?" she asked immediately. "Would you like to learn, or is fighting unappealing to you?" Nitya knew basics of fist fighting and swordsmanship, she had to as a traveler who preferred not to hire bodyguards when possible. But having someone else who could fight with her... it would be nice.

"Glass eye?" Rora spit out. "You should have mentioned that earlier... I don't suppose you'll tell me he's gay next?" Her powers of compulsion required eye contact, and a glass eye was going to halve the potency. She sighed. "How long do you need in the lord's chambers?" Given the explosion that had happened earlier, Rora guessed that she would only have to distract Edvard and a couple other guards. But to do even that, and to do it in a way that would allow her to get out suspicious free, was going to be difficult.

Illi stood there for a moment, before asking, "Would you allow me to make some food? As a thank you of sorts, for all of this. And, well, I am starting to get hungry as well. I promise I know how to cook, I used to help cook for all my siblings sometimes. Not so much anymore, since they have all gone their own ways, but still."

The old lady laughed. "Feel free. The kitchen is on the right, you can use anything. I'll keep an eye on this gentleman here. Let me know if you need anything!"

"I will, thank you!" Illi responded as she hurriedly exited the room. After surveying the ingredients available, she started making a salad and slicing some bread to go on the side.

Illi stood uncomfortably, trying to look anywhere but at Davishire. At the old lady's urging, however, she awkwardly helped carry him to the bath. She sighed a breath of relief when they put him in it. Then, immediately, she turned around and covered her bright face with her hands.

"W-we don't have to wash him or anything, right?" Illi hesitantly asked.

"Something cool?" Nitya repeated as they went outside. "There's a cafe just down the street. Let's go there. They have some salads and I think a cold soup or two, though I can't say I'm positive. But they definitely have some lemonade!" She loved lemonade. "And iced tea, I think." Nitya walked down to the cafe, Pig's Brother, and sat at a table inside.

"Can you fight?" Nitya asked out of the blue while waiting for a waiter to come.