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"...Yes, my lord," says Aya agreeably. She designs, in her head, a wing to add to her lizard which could record this information, though she thinks she'll probably remember without.

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He runs his hands through his hair again, again to no effect.

"He doesn't hardly come up here, anyway, so you should be all right if you stay here. But you'll get bored, I bet, I know I do - hmm, do you want to see my attic? I have an attic full of things I don't want. You can have things from it, it's all mine and I don't care about any of it."
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"If you like, my lord."

She's really not quite sure what he's going for here, but it's not like following him to his attic makes any of the unpleasant possibilities more likely.
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"It's this way. Father beats me," he adds as he leads her out of his little suite and across the hall to a ladder behind a little door. "And the servants when he's angry - he'll make his secretary do it if he doesn't care, but he always complains Teio doesn't hit hard enough. So when I tell you it's a bad idea to get in the way of his moods, I'm speaking from experience."

There's a lantern at the bottom of the ladder; he lights it and brings it with him.

The attic is, indeed, full of things. Many of the things are packed away in chests or trunks, but some are just sitting loose on the floor, or piled on shelves. Little to no organization can be observed in the mess. Clothes, musical instruments, what seems to be a set of watercolour paints next to a case of brushes and a large roll of paper, a dusty stack of wooden decorative masks, small ornate boxes of various materials, piles of appropriately masculine jewelry, fancy pens and coloured inks... things.
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Aya takes in this assertion. If she were a duke's child trying to get a new slave to trust her, that would probably be a go-to statement true or not, but that doesn't make it false, necessarily. Certainly she takes the warning about the treatment of servants seriously. And Hal hasn't done anything to scare her yet, but she's reluctant to put much weight on the conclusions of five minutes' acquaintance where all she's said amounts to repetitions of:

"Yes, my lord."

She looks through the things. She doesn't touch any of it yet. She can't get attached to material possessions. Even the drawings, even when the old lady kept them and tacked them to the walls, were not suited for diarying because they weren't hers, nothing is hers. But there might be something she could get value out of borrowing for an unpredictable amount of time. She could probably add a lot to the information density of a doodle with ink color; maybe there are books, hiding somewhere, for her to read.
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"Come up here whenever you want, take things back to your room if you want them, do whatever you want there. I'll leave you alone if you ask, or I'll talk to you if you'd rather. I can show you the back ways to the kitchen so you don't run into Father going through the house - now or when you're hungry, either one. In case you haven't had time to notice, Berete really likes feeding people, and she's in and out of there all the time. If you show up she'll give you something."

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"I'd like to know the way, my lord," confesses Aya.

Is he going to really leave her completely to her own devices? She supposes if she's a surprise it's not that ridiculous, although she still supposes it somewhat likely that he'll come up with some need or other and she'll be the most convenient way to address it, even if the need isn't the obvious thing.
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"All right."

He extinguishes the lantern, which doesn't substantially affect the light levels where they're standing - the attic has a large glass window just behind them, which is letting in enough morning light to illuminate all but the most crowded corners. And he goes back down the ladder, and leaves the lantern there, and leads Aya along the back ways to the kitchen.

'Back ways' prove to be a series of bare, narrow hallways leading to a set of bare, narrow stairs from which they emerge into the hallway that runs between kitchen and servants' quarters. The door to the kitchen is open, and emitting pleasing smells. Hal smiles.
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Aya memorizes the route. "Thank you, my lord."

Is he ever going to tell her to drop the "my lord"? The old lady only wanted to be called "mistress" in front of company. She supposes it doesn't matter that much.
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He turns his grin in her direction.

"I'm gonna see what's cooking and get a snack. If you don't want anything you can go back to my rooms, if you think you can find the way back all right."
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"Yes, my lord." She had breakfast recently enough, and feels assured enough of her near-future access to food, that she dips a little curtsey and goes back up the stairs. She has the way memorized, all right, and finds the room assigned to her.

The lizard gets two sets of wings to take down her new information - she takes her time with them. She puts the drawing somewhere visible (she doesn't want to be seen to hide things) but out of the way.
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He returns a little while later, pokes his head in her door to say "You can read the books if you want," and disappears into his room.

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Well, that's nice. This is all looking very nice. If she's being boiled like the proverbial frog, she'll deal with that when she starts feeling scalded.

She inspects the bookshelves.
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The selection is wide-ranging and disorganized, which seems to be something of a theme in Hal's life. If she wants a treatise on outdated military fortifications, volumes of popular poetry from every province in the country, or a collection of recipes for simple rural food, she's covered. There's even an epic poem in Ancient Sudre, sitting on a bottom shelf looking like it hasn't been touched in several years.

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Aya reads each of the titles, then goes for a poetry collection to start with. She takes it into her room to read, but leaves the door open.

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That seems to be it from him for now; his door doesn't open again anytime in the next several hours.
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In those several hours, Aya:

- finishes the poems

- goes and gets lunch from the kitchens, and a nonperishable to keep in her room for snacking with fewer stairs in the way

- draws an embroidered bird with an extremely elaborate set of tails that dominate most of its page

- selects another volume (one of the history books) to read, and begins reading it, also in her room with the door open.
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He emerges when she's well into the book, and glances into her room to see what she's up to.

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Aya looks up from the history book. "My lord?" she inquires.

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"You don't actually have to call me that," he says. "Well, other people might care about it when they can hear you, my father would, but I don't. Anyway, I'm going to get something to eat. Do you want me to bring you something back?"

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"What would you prefer to be called?" asks Aya. "And..." She really has no idea what to make of the second thing and tilts her head quizzically.

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"I don't care," he says. "Whatever you want, or nothing."

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"All right. And... I'm not sure why you're offering to bring me food."

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He shrugs. "Because you might be hungry and it's a long way to the kitchen and I'm already going?"

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"You could also send me to bring you food," she points out gingerly.

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