Page 7 of Dax: Gratefully Bonded
“Where did you get that?” I asked, my entire body going rigid. I had privately hoped that no one but my master would ever lay eyes on that document.
Kade hesitated. “My master got a copy from Colonel Henderson. Do you know who he is?”
“He’s my master’s commanding officer?” I said, hoping I was correct. My master had mentioned Henderson several times throughout the past year, though he’d never given me much context for the comments he’d made about him. “You shouldn’t have that,” I added, glowering at the document.
Kade closed it, the holographic screen blinking out of existence far too late to ease my agitation. He regarded me in silence, probably contemplating how to address the fact that I was an utter disaster in my assigned role.
“I noted the price on your contract,” he said, and I withered in my seat. “You were sold for fifteen thousand credits.”
Right at that moment, a waitress arrived with our drinks. Kade had apparently ordered himself a glass of moloto juice, the same as he’d got for me, and he politely thanked the waitress. Meanwhile, I was slowly dying inside.
“My trainers were not pleased with me,” I said, once the waitress had left. I avoided looking at Kade. The typical price of a dimari was forty thousand credits. I hadn’t managed to garner even half of that. “If my master couldn’t afford anyone more expensive…” I trailed off, dreading what that meant for my future. My master had knowingly bought a dimari who was deficient in behaviour and attitude, but even then, he’d been disappointed with the level of service I’d provided. I was worthless.
“Oddly enough,” Kade said, “that’s not the problem we’re dealing with. But just out of curiosity… why were your trainers not pleased with you?”
I winced. He was really going to make me talk about this? “I’m not good at following instructions,” I said.
“Why not?” he pressed, while I shrivelled a little more. “Don’t you want to please your master?”
“Of course I do,” I snapped, then stopped, gritting my teeth as I tried to get my emotions under control. “Of course I want to please him,” I repeated, when I had a handle on my temper. “But he does things that are self-destructive, and I…” I paused, shaking my head, infuriated at myself. “I keep trying to stop him from doing things that are going to harm him.” Regardless of my intentions, that behaviour constituted disobedience. A good dimari was not disobedient. A good dimari did not consider their own opinion to be more important than their master’s.
Whatever response I had expected from Kade, I didn’t receive it. “Hmm,” he said, opening my operations manual again and skimming through the details. “That’s interesting. And maybe that explains why… Hmm.”
“Maybe that explains what?” I dared to ask. Did I really want to know?
“I had thought there’d been an administrative error when your master bought you,” he said, his eyes on the document. “But maybe there wasn’t.” I didn’t know what he was talking about. “Are you aware that your master is not well?”
“He drinks a lot,” I said. “And he has trouble organising things. And he has nightmares. He was injured when I was delivered, and…” My shoulders sagged. “I don’t know the details. He gets angry if I ask him about it.”
Oddly, Kade nodded, as if something suddenly made sense. “Well, maybe that explains why the Eumadians did what they did, then.” He closed the document and looked up at me, a stern but thoughtful look on his face. “According to what Colonel Henderson told us, your master ordered a domestic companion from the Eumadians. Your operations manual clearly shows that you’re not one of those.”
My eyebrows rose… and then I felt a cold thrill of trepidation run through me. “I was delivered to the wrong master?” No wonder he hated me!
“I originally thought so,” Kade said cautiously. “But now I’m not so sure. Your master is… Well, he makes decisions that are not in his own best interests.”
I managed not to scoff. “That’s putting it mildly,” I muttered, then cringed. A good dimari did not speak ill of their own master. Even if I could clearly see all the ways in which my master was slowly digging his own grave.
“But that is perhaps one of the problems here,” Kade said, “if no one explained to you what he was actually looking for.”
“I’m confused,” I admitted. “You said he ordered a domestic companion. So why would the Eumadians send me? I’m a domestic servant.” The two roles had a certain amount of overlap, while at the same time being significantly differentresponsibilities. A domestic servant was trained to run all the logistical and administrative functions of a large household; ordering groceries, paying bills, arranging repairs, and keeping the house clean and tidy. A domesticcompanion, on the other hand, was trained in the rudimentary skills needed to run a household, but a much larger part of their education centred on learning how to behave at high class social functions, how to make interesting conversation, how to recognise the latest season’s fashions or suggest appealing outings to their master, such as visits to art galleries or museums. If my master had ordered someone with the latter sort of training, it was no wonder he was sorely disappointed with me.
“Morning, folks,” a chirpy waitress announced, arriving at our table before Kade could explain any more of this convoluted situation. “The Big Breakfast?” she asked, glancing from Kade to me and back.
“That’s for Dax, here,” Kade said, gesturing to me. The waitress set the plate down, and I felt a wave of consternation. The plate was huge! I hadn’t had this much food in a single meal since… well, ever. “Enjoy,” the waitress said, beaming at us both. Then she sashayed off, collecting the plates from a neighbouring table and ferrying them back to the kitchen.
“This is too much,” I muttered, feeling both anxious and embarrassed. “My master would not allow me to eat this much.”
Kade opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again, taking a slow breath. Then he tried again. “Your master has not been depriving you of food deliberately. He is not well, and he’s been having a very difficult time organising food deliveries.”
My shoulders sagged. “I would have expected him to teach me how to do that,” I said, pushing the plate away a fraction. “He doesn’t think me worthy of proper meals.”
“Dax,” Kade said, more sternly this time. “This is exactly what we’ve been talking about. And I think I know why the Eumadians sent you now, even though your master ordered a domestic companion. A companion’s role,” he rushed on, before I could interrupt, “is to guide their master into appealing pastimes. To suggest outings. To create more interest in life than their master would naturally come by.”
“I wasn’t taught how to do any of that,” I grumbled. If Kade had been anyone other than another dimari, I wouldn’t have dared to speak to him in such a tone. But despite his physical fitness and the obvious approval of his master, is was arguable that he and I were actually equal in rank.
“I know,” Kade said, not sounding nearly as smug as I might have expected. “But according to your personality profile, you have a strong tendency to voice your opinions, even if they disagree with your trainer’s intentions.”
I winced. Of course that was in my manual. Any master who bought me would want to be forewarned of his dimari’s cantankerous nature. I wasn’t deliberately trying to be difficult! It was just that I so often saw a better way of doing things than I had been instructed to do…