Just when you think you’ve hit rock bottom and there’s no way to fall any further, life drops the floor out from under you and you find there’s worse to come. The event that was to send me plummeting to the lowest possible depths of despair began with an ordinary day. The previous day we’d been left in the dark, so I was almost enjoying myself as I basked in the light that morning. I knew that when the door was left open, Lord Morren would more than likely call one of us to his workroom, but as Amelia had said, it’s amazing what humans can adjust to and treat as normal. I had almost become accustomed to my life as a slave and power-source.

My heart sank when the door to Lord Morren’s workroom opened and he beckoned to me, but I got to my feet and went. To my surprise he didn’t direct me into the room, but instead ordered me to follow him and headed down the stairs. I obediently tagged along behind him, wondering what was going on. I hadn’t been to the lower floors of the house since my first day here. We descended all the way to the ground floor. From there we went down a narrow hallway and through a plain door. Inside there was a scene of controlled chaos. A dozen or so slaves crowded the room, darting this way and that. I eventually managed to sort out what was going on. A number of older slaves, directed by a thin, wrinkled woman, were measuring several younger ones, apparently for uniforms. A group in the corner was sewing, and a few partially finished uniforms were being tried on for size. Lord Morren took me over to the woman in charge. She had the collar and house mark, but she was anything but subservient. She looked me up and down, assessing me.

“Think he’ll do?” asked Lord Morren.

“He’s a little bit scrawny, but he’ll have to,” she replied. “With him we’ll have nine fit to be seen in public, and that’s barely enough.”

Lord Morren nodded, and without a further word, turned and left. “Let’s get you measured, youngster,” said the old lady. She must of read the confusion on my face, for she added with a smile, “You don’t know what the fuss is all about, do you?”

I shook my head. “No, ma’am.”

“Well, it’s a wonder, and that’s for sure. Lord Morren is throwing a party. There’s not been a proper social event here in years!” She shook her head at the thought. “We’ve no formal uniforms, nor any real waiters, so all the younger ones are being pressed into service. We’ll get you a uniform and give you a bit of training in how its done and you’ll serve drinks and such.”

So I was measured from head to toe, given a flurry of instructions, and sent back upstairs with my head in a whirl. I shared the news with Amelia and we talked over what it might mean.

“Somehow Lord Morren doesn’t strike me as much of a partygoer,” she said. “Why would he be throwing a big social event?”

“I can think of a few reasons,” I replied. “My father wasn’t a frivolous sort, but he threw parties all the time, for the status of it. It’s a chance to show off you power. That’s something I think Lord Morren and may father have in common, they both want to be seen as powerful.”

“You don’t talk about your family much,” said Amelia.

I sighed. “No, I don’t. There’s too much history, too much pain, and too much missing them too. It doesn’t matter. I’ll never go home again anyway.” I sighed. “What about you? You never talk about your family either.”

The sadness on her face deepened. “I miss them too much. If I think about them, I’ll fall apart. But I… I still somehow hope that someday I can go home again.”

Home… I didn’t think I’d ever see it, and there were days when I wondered if my family even missed me. Surely Mother would, and Chris, but what about Father? I was such a disappointment, maybe he was glad to be rid of me. I didn’t like the thought, but it kept creeping back into my mind. If I could somehow go home, would I be welcomed, or would Dad be disappointed at the return of his worthless son?

During the next week I buried myself in activity. I’d had too much time to sit and think, but now frequent trips downstairs to get my uniform adjusted and be trained in how to be a proper waiter kept me busy and I could put my uncomfortable thoughts out of my mind. I learned how to hold a tray steady when walking, and how to watch people so I could see anyone signal me without looking up and staring. “You in particular need to keep your eyes down, boy,” said Margaret, the old lady I’d met earlier. She pretty much ran the household and was the one responsible for our training. “You don’t want to give any of the guests a scare with those cat eyes of yours.”

There were days when I felt like laughing at the whole situation. Half the time I was in Lord Morren’s workroom having the blood and the life force drained out of me by a vampiric mage, and half the time I was getting lessons in etiquette for waiters.