"In some ways, yes. None of your freed slaves would have died from disease, or been killed or robbed. They would have worked hard to try to help them adapt to their new realities, but... they wouldn't have accomplished much. Changing a soul's nature is impossible. In the best possible scenario they would have been able to help them find work similar to that which they did in Rual, with as detailed a job description as possible. They would have become servants – in homes or temples, assistants to healers, craftsmen, farmers and the like. But I'm not so sure they would have loved that life. Alas, nobody would have taken care of them forever. And then..."

"But why?!" Anar exploded.

"It's their nature! Don't you get that? There's no malicious intent or evil design at work here. It's the same random chance that made you so overwhelmingly freedom-loving. They just happen to lack a strong inner core, an independent identity. Forging their own beliefs on anything is a staggering burden to them."

"Empty inside..." Anar mumbled.

Alu nodded.

"When we look within ourselves and say, 'Such is my opinion on this or that matter, my attitude towards it,' and then act in accordance with those convictions, defending them, fortifying words with actions – that is precisely when we acquire our spirit. Thus we as if weave a magical garment for our soul, which protects it against shocks of life, helps us on our chosen path, and, with time, imparts to us a series of special abilities, like my gift of seeing a creature's Path or your gift of flying without magic. Of course, our parents and gods weave the first strands of this fabric, but the rest is up to us. It is us. With inborn slaves, it's a different story. Their souls are so... non-existent that these poor creatures can't form their own spiritual shell. They simply have nothing to rely upon inside themselves. And a naked soul is vulnerable and almost blind."

"But they can still adopt others' points of view, right? Like Kad? And then their souls... find peace?"

"Yes. That's why for many of them their chains take on a sacred meaning – they are a symbol of inner peace and spiritual growth. When they become free, inborn slaves immediately, without even realizing it, start to look for someone to look up to: a role model, a mentor... a master. Someone into whose image they can mold themselves. So they can grow their spirit from the seeds of their ideas."

"But that could be anybody!"

"Unfortunately, yes. But there's an even more important element in play here: their spiritual shell is... unstable. It needs constant adjustment and prompting."

Anar shook his head, bemused.

"We're talking about the same thing," Aniallu said. "They take on others' views readily, right away. They take them on faith, without any inner scrutiny."

"And if not everyone in their immediate vicinity holds the same point of view..." Anar scoffed sadly.

"... the wretched creatures' spiritual shell either doesn't form at all or it breaks like a soap bubble, exposing their vulnerable souls all over again. It is incredibly painful, so they drown their grief with... whatever they can. Even if they manage to survive and somehow make a life for themselves as free creatures, they are never happy. The world is too big, too complex, too... varied for them. There are too many sharp corners. It's always trying to make them over; it asks too much of them. It's just like blaming a nice childless couple for their infertility. Only relatively isolated societies where everyone feels the same way about things can accept inborn slaves as they are, whether it's Rual, a temple, or the house of a respectable clan."

"This all sounds reasonable, and yet... When a being willingly chooses to give up their freedom, I can accept that. But when they're chained from birth because of a particular nature of their soul – even for their own good – I can't help but be sickened by it!"

"Same here. All I can do is share with you the same platitude I use to console myself with: there is no such thing as complete freedom and there never has been, in any world, for any creature. We don't live in a vacuum. Those around us inevitably influence us in one way or another, limiting our choices in life. In Rual, a non-Alae cannot choose freedom. Outside Rual, as a rule he cannot choose absolute slavery."

"Why?"

"Because wanting to be a slave is shameful," Aniallu drawled softly. "It's a horror and a disgrace. If that's what you want, you need treatment. You've got to be pretty gutsy to declare in front of champions of social equality, 'Yes, I want to be someone's property! I enjoy being used! The only freedom I need is the freedom to choose a suitable lord and master. And according to my definition of suitable, which may vary wildly from yours. There are many faces to happiness, so go fly a kite with your propaganda!' In most worlds we'd get our hides tanned for talking about creatures' rights to un-freedom. Well, they would at least try to tan our hides, anyway."

"Got it. What you're saying is that there, beyond the Curtain, there are a lot of 'bleeding-heart Anars,'" bleeding-heart Anar concluded with pensive relief.

"Tons. Only they're more like you were before Rual, as opposed to you now. You went through all the possible reasons for the slaves' behavior – the shortcomings of their upbringing, telepathic manipulation, the particular characteristics of their bodies – and only after all of those options were ruled out did you begin to consider that the answer might lie in their souls. But these champions of cookie-cutter happiness are going to drive this seditious thought away with all their might, not recognizing others' right to be different. They just can't understand that someone could readily trade freedom for a well-fed and thoughtless life. Or, on the contrary, to trade freedom for the chance to follow their master, this Supreme Being, like a personal god, trembling with awe, partaking of all his deeds, great and small. Indeed, society often deems far 'lesser' sins unforgivable. In some places, for example, if you decide not to take up a profession but to stay home and take care of your beloved family, they won't leave you alone, trying to raise your supposed 'low self-esteem' via all possible means. Your immediate environment will get plenty of heat as well: how dare these selfish bastards smother your 'unique personality?' And all these uninvited rescuers are oblivious to the fact that they are the ones crushing your individuality by reproaching your 'lack of motivation to grow,' 'play a worthy role in society,' and so forth, undermining the value of your work and ridiculing your choice of lifestyle, which they claim to hold so dear! And they'll sing the same tune if you decide to put state or religious interests ahead of your own personal ones."

"But there are probably some who really do need rescuing."

"Of course. However..." she gave Anar a pointed look.

"... However, before saving someone, you should take a good look at whether they really need saving. And that it's not about you – that you wouldn't be happy in their place," the Alae answered his own question.

"That's it. We have two parables about foolish cats: in one, they rescue fish from granddad's aquarium, and in the other, they decide not to save a baby bird who fell in there." Aniallu sighed. "Unfortunately, not everyone reads those kinds of stories as children. And it gets pretty extreme, like in our Naeric city of Lar'aert'aemori, where a lack of interest in art is deemed a sign of mental illness. The notion of voluntary slavery pales in comparison..."

Aniallu fell silent.

"My assistant and good friend Shada used to be a slave. I saw her at a market at Dirhdaar. She was being resold for the fourth time. The first time was on her stepfather's order after he discovered that his wife had cheated on him with a slave and that Shada wasn't his daughter. The same fate awaited his wife, except she couldn't stand the disgrace and took her life before the sale took place. She was a sorceress, although she had never studied magic formally, and the little power she had was just enough to leave this world on her own terms. Shada couldn't end her life, although she tried. I can't even imagine what she had to go through. She had such horrible nightmares that we had to seek out soul healers. She collects the rarest delicacies; she's literally filled her room with all sorts of precious trinkets and even made an appearance in Dirhdaar, just to fully enjoy seeing the descendants of her former, long-dead masters grovel before her. But the past still weighs her down. That's why it's very hard for me to defend one's right to be a slave even when it genuinely needs defending," Aniallu said with tears in her voice.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know this would upset you so," Anar looked her in the eyes in distress.

"No matter, if I managed to comfort you even a little," the tal sianae poked her nose into his shoulder.

Anar couldn't help himself – he reached out and stroked her soft hair, ran his fingers along the base of her warm velvet ear. They sat like that for a long time, unmoving, cradled in their mutual grief, as in a heavy wing. At least twenty minutes passed before the silence began to weigh on them.

"It's all very... spiritually edifying, but we've lost track of our Curtain history," Aniallu said with fake enthusiasm, checking herself.

"That story is almost over. We holed up in our city, protected from the outside world. And his holiness Agir the Liberator, who lived with his people for another four hundred years, left us and ascended to Briaellar, so as to take a place worthy of an Alae as great as he, at the foot of the goddess' throne."

"And how exactly did he ascend?" asked Alu, concealing the smile that had returned to her face.

"He descended into the lower levels of this very crypt, where the tombs of past rulers are found, lay down in his coffin and left this world. Of his own will, as befits the wisest and most worthy of Alae," answered Anar with his characteristic sad sarcasm. "That's all I know. If you want a more detailed description, you'll have to ask Amialis. Her father summoned her on his death bed in order to admonish her."

"Admonish?" Alu's ears perked up.

"Yes. No one in Rual knows exactly how much wisdom he imparted upon her that day, but my mother said his main instruction was to forbid everyone from visiting this crypt," Anar outlined the darkness around him with a sweeping gesture.

And that's it?"

Anar shook his head. He too was now burning with the desire to get to the bottom of this story, but he couldn't see how. Rual's priests and authorities were too smart, cunning and cautious to leave any trace of their surreptitious deeds.

"It's a pity I couldn't help you."

"You tried," Alu smiled. "Am I correct in assuming I won't find anything in the heads of eyewitnesses of those events?"

"Probably not. You know why we celebrate Purification Day. 'All righteous cats gathered in the Great Hall of the royal palace, shaved heads and ears, and, having committed their clothing to the fire, fell to the ground. And they prayed to Alasais that she might rid them of the foreign blight that had defiled the souls of even the most righteous. But the goddess was deaf to their prayers.' So they had to castra... wipe out the memory of such beings by their own methods. And their efforts were quite commendable. Very few remember anything about life before the Curtain, nor about the moment it was created. So tell me, Alu, did they really do this willingly, or did the same thing that happened to me happen to them?"

"Willingly," Aniallu sighed. "However, as far as I know, the royal family and certain priests did not take part in the ceremony?"

"That's right. They had to remember everything 'so as not to allow history to repeat itself.' Are you thinking about having a look into their memories?"

"Not yet. It's too drastic a step. I don't want to rush into it. Perhaps you can find something in the libraries – there, up above?" Alu suggested. "I mean, you're the heir to the throne. You have access to any information: in the temples' archives and in the Royal Library?"

"I do," Anar said and then added, smiling slyly, "and not always because I'm the heir to the throne..."

"... but because you're a daring, sneaky, rich and magically gifted golden-eared imp! Scrape a little at those mouseholes, please. Maybe you'll come up with something useful."

"I'll try," Anar answered without any particular hope in his voice. "In any case, pulling the wool over priests' eyes is a pleasure in and of itself."