Story #94 - Traz

Traz

“You understand our relationship, correct?” Flint Tarrin's voice was strident and uncultured.

"Yeah,” I said, keeping my eyes down, “you bought me. I'm your slave, more or less.”

Flint laughed – he wasn't one to use physical violence on his property unless they were well out of line, but he had a habit of putting them in what he believed was their “place”.

“Not more or less, Dano – exactly that. Who'd have thought you'd turn out to be Traz, after all this?” There was a vast amusement there, probably because of all the games of Jo-Fly I'd won against him or times he'd been left out of a gang I was running. I'd never been deliberately cruel to the kid, but more often than not, he'd gotten the short end of the stick.

Things had been good for me – good school, decent friends, and then my dad had to go and screw something up at work, something big, something so big they started looking through our files. I didn't know it myself until yesterday, but my real mom had been Traz, and that meant I was property. Simple as that, cut and dried.

Dad was angry; he went to the Minister himself, but there were no exceptions, and the law said that I couldn't be bought by the family that had harbored me. I'd read over most of the law last night, at least the parts that were going to directly affect my life in the next five years, and I hadn't found much to like. Sure, beatings were outlawed, but that didn't mean they didn't happen behind closed doors. They had to feed me enough to keep me healthy, but they were under no obligation to provide creature comforts of any kind or even a private place to sleep. If they could guarantee my health and safety, I could be kept with livestock.

This morning, they'd torched my old clothes and given me the white robe I'd have to wear from now on. Most of the Traz in the city only had their robe to call their own, but many were ragged and grey from years of toiling in the fields. I was lucky, after a fashion – because I was a minor, Flint's family could only hold me for five years, and then they had to give my father the chance to buy me back at a set price. While I was confident that price would be paid, five years was a long time to wait.

As soon as I'd seen Flint's face in the crowd I knew my secret was out, and when I heard him start bidding in his high-pitched voice on me I knew I was in trouble. I'd seen him pulling at his mother's robes as the auction went on, and stamping his foot when he didn't get his way. Obviously, she had given him the credits to purchase me, which made me his personal slave - and his new toy - for the next five years.

“Come along, Traz. You and I have a full day together.” I moved quickly in behind Flint, hoping that would be enough to satisfy him, but he turned with grin on his face. “You really think I'd forget this, Dano?” he said, holding up a silver collar and chain. “You're mine, and I'm going to make sure everybody knows it.

We spent the next half an hour parading the city, Flint announcing to anyone he knew that I was his now. I saw more than a few former friends, most of who looked away, but several that watched me go, jaws wide and eyes searching. They likely assumed this was a deep secret I'd been keeping, that I'd been pretending to be the prefect Xen, but the truth was I didn't know any differently – my heritage had been as much as surprise to me as it was to them.

Eventually, Flint's enthusiasm ran out and he found a pull-cart in the market. Placing me between the shafts, he took off the collar and sat in the high seat. “Mush, Dano,” he said, “take me home!”

I knew the way; the Tarrin estate was near my own – or what had been my own – and it didn't take long to arrive. In my head, I pretended this was all just a game, just a new thing we were trying out for fun - “what would it be like to be a Traz for a day?”

Flint wasn't cruel when we arrived, he simply showed me a small room next to his with a bed, dresser and reading lamp. “Look,” he said, “I don't plan on abusing you, OK? I'm going to give you a bunch of those smocks, some books, and we're going to hang out every day. You've got to clean my room, though, and make sure that I don't get in trouble around here. If something bad happens, you did it. Get me?”

I nodded. There was no point in arguing. My servitude had begun.

***

Flint was true to his word, and while I wasn't happy, he didn't go out of his way to make me miserable. I picked up after him, took his lumps, and generally made sure his life was as easy as possible.

It was one day during his Lessons that I happened to be cleaning under Flint's bed - he'd been jamming food there for days, claiming it was a “survival bunker”, but got tired of it when the smell got bad – and I found a scrawled parchment with his name at the top.

“My Plan”, it said, and went on to list a crude set of provisions that would come into effect when Flint forcibly took the throne from the Emperor. It was childish and innocent, but also something Flint should not have kept around – his age made him liable for any slanderous documents in his hand, no matter how old.

Folding the paper quickly, I dashed into my room and hid it in the bottom drawer of my dresser. It seemed I wasn't the only one whose fortunes could be easily reversed.

A smile on my face, I set about cleaning Flint's room. We would want a clean and tidy area to discuss my terms.

- D