"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."
"I am more than willing to believe it." Steamed bun steamed bun om nom nom.
"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."