"That boy is hard on his clothes. And his pillows. And occasionally his furniture. I don't think he's raised a hand to a servant since he got out of his biting phase when he was three, but he does destroy things."
"Be thankful you didn't know him as a little one, then. He learned how to walk and spent the next few weeks rocketing around the house biting anything he could catch - people, curtains, tables, doors."
She frowns, then stops wondering.
"You've been here for a long time, then?"
"Yeah. I grew up in the city; my parents were the cooks in neighbouring households, which is all the cute childhood story I've got because I was a very boring child. I grew up helping my mother in the kitchen, and then I came here when I was - oh, about your age, I suppose. Just in time to meet little Hal before he discovered the joy of biting things. And how about you? What's your story?"
"Second-generation slaveborn," says Aya, "on a farm; I taught myself to read when I was five, got noticed at it when I was six, and I was sold for enough to buy someone older and better suited to farm work in particular. My prior owner had me taking dictation and doing household chores - everything I listed for you the other day, pretty much. She wasn't bad, as these things go, usually let me make a given mistake once without hitting me, left me some time to myself - some of her relatives and friends were worse, but they always left eventually. It's nicer here, though, I'm not sleeping in front of the hearth and you're a better cook than I am and I have so much time now."
"If you ever run out of better things to do with all that time, you're welcome to come down and learn. With or without Hal."