I tried not to wince as the glowing crystal rod descended to tap the crown of my head. A brief tingling sensation shot all the way to my toes before fading without a trace. Was the tingling a good sign? I looked up as soon as the sensation passed but saw nothing save ornate red robes. The woman who had touched me had already moved down the line to Todd, leaving behind nothing but the scent of flowers I'd never smelled before and the dainty swish of silk.

  It was Winnowing day for the seven-year-olds at the Creche. Those lucky few (if any) that had magical abilities would be taken away to begin the process of becoming a Citizen. The less fortunate majority would remain at the center and begin a different sort of education – how to be good slaves - before being sent off to work on an Estate for the rest of their lives. Up until this moment, all the children at the Creche had been treated equally. Every child, we had been told a hundred times, had the potential to become a Citizen. Today was the day we would find out what hand fate had dealt us.

  The Citizen completed her trip down the line and crooked a finger toward Mother Debbie, who was in charge of me and all the other children here. Mother Debbie walked over and bowed deeply, waiting for the other woman to command her.

  “I am taking that one with me. The others are dismissed.” She pointed towards one of the children, but I couldn’t see who it was.

  “Amina. Come here, please.” Mother Debbie used the gentle voice that she always used when talking to wizards. “You’re going with this lady.”

  I held back tears as Amina ran to Mother Debbie, grinning from ear to ear at the prospect of becoming a Citizen. Of all the kids, she was the worst. She was both a coward and a bully; once she had made Todd eat a live worm from the garden. How could people like her become Citizens? How could she be morally, mentally, and physically suited to be a ruler when so many of the other kids were a hundred times better?

  I could tell that Mother Debbie was trying not to cry as well, but for a different reason. She loved that little stinker, just like she loved every single kid here. After a moment, the wizardess cleared her throat, which startled Mother Debbie into action. She clapped her hands and moved to the center of the room.

  “Ok, children! Let’s head back for dinner now. Tomorrow you’ll be starting your training and I want everyone to be well-rested.”

  We must have been a sorry sight as we allowed Mother Debbie to shoo us to the dining area. Some of the kids were trying to choke back tears, others seemed to be resigned to their fate. I just felt numb all over. There was nothing to be done but make the best of it. Maybe a life of servitude wouldn't be so bad. The adults at the Creche seemed to be doing okay. Their clothes were nice and they seemed well-fed. No one was beaten, at least not in front of the children.

  At dinner we experienced the first fruits of our new status; our meal consisted of stew and hard bread. Mother Debbie's eyes roved here and there, fixing on each of her thirty children for a few seconds before moving on to the next. When her gaze reached me, I looked up from my meal long enough to lock eyes with her. I could have sworn she was doing her best not to cry. A hot tear rolled down my cheek and into my stew before I could help myself.

  We ate in silence before being ushered to our sleeping quarters. Technically, we should have had an hour of playtime, but no one seemed to be in the mood. I laid down on my cot and tried not to cry audibly while Mother Debbie sat in her rocker and sang lullabies to us. She even sang my favorite song: a fable about a young goddess who sacrificed herself to stave off the eternal darkness and became the sun.

  I’ll never forget how she looked that night: the grey-blue dress that she wore on special occasions, salt-and-pepper hair that was always pulled into a bun, and her weary but kind old face. She sang for a while before her voice started to catch in her throat. When she slipped out of the room, the last ounce of my self-control went with her, and I cried myself to exhaustion. Even so, it took me a few hours to fall asleep. I kept plotting ways to escape the fate that lay before me. I knew that I would be captured and punished before I even made it off the grounds, but the mental exercise helped to calm me.

  The next morning, while it was still dark outside, the booming voice of an unfamiliar man jolted me awake.

  “Get up, you lazy dogs!”

  Rubbing my eyes, I crawled out of my bed and shivered for a few moments as my body adjusted to the premature lack of covers. As my eyes became used to the predawn dimness, I saw a stout, swarthy figure in the center of the room. I knew this man only by reputation, but I’d heard enough to be afraid. It was the Headmaster. He was wearing a red vest that exposed much of his barrel chest, black cotton pants, and two gaudy bronze wrist guards. The man shifted his weight impatiently on the creaking wooden floor as the rest of the children scrambled out of their bunks.

  Niko, who had the lower bunk directly across from mine, had pulled his blanket over his head and was sobbing underneath. My heart beat wildly as the Headmaster stomped over to where the terrified boy lay. The Headmaster pulled the blanket away with one deft movement before grabbing Niko's leg and yanking him off the bed.

  “Stand up!”

  Niko struggled to his feet as the Headmaster turned and addressed the entire group.

  “Today you’ll begin to learn the skills that will keep you alive when you are sent to live on your master's or mistress' Estate. The first and most important of these is obedience. Over the next year, you will learn to follow orders without question. If you do everything that is asked of you, you will avoid punishment. If you fail, it’s only a matter of time before you get yourself killed.

  The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

  I want to make one thing clear: I am not your friend. I am not your mother. I do not like you. It’s my job to teach you what you need to know as quickly as possible. I have no patience for stupid children like you. How many of you are stupid?”

  No one responded.

  “So all of you are smart?”

  There was some affirmative head nodding.

  “Wrong! I just told you that you’re all stupid. Now, who’s stupid? Raise your hands!”

  We raised our hands in unison.

  “Good. Now everyone, close your eyes.”

  I couldn’t resist peeking, just a bit. The Headmaster tapped his bronze wrist guards together and immediately vanished. I stifled a gasp and firmly shut my eyes, hoping that he hadn’t heard me. The seconds ticked by. Just as I thought I was safe, two enormous hands lifted me off the floor. I found myself dangling upside down in the middle of the room.

  “Peeking, were we? There’s always one. Tonight you will be scrubbing pots until your fingers are raw.”

  Suddenly the ground rushed up to meet me. Pain and darkness followed.

  Mother Debbie led us down several flights of stairs to a room in the Creche I'd never seen before. The walls, ceiling, and floor were made from a nondescript grey stone, and there was a raised platform in the center of the room that was a slightly different shade of grey. A strange man was waiting for us. Like the room, he was grey. His clothes were grey, his thinning hair was grey, even his skin had a greyish hue. The man nodded at Mother Debbie, who gave each of us a quick hug. When she reached me, I could feel hot tears on her cheek as she pulled me closed.

  "Please be careful out there, Arabella. Don't talk back if you can help it."

  I squeezed her as hard as I could and tried in vain to stifle a sob. I didn't know where I was going, but I knew I wanted her with me. Far too soon, Mother Debbie's gentle hands disengaged my death grip on her and she moved on to hug Aisha, who was going to the same place I was.

  When Mother Debbie was finished giving each of us a goodbye hug, the man in grey motioned for us to climb up the stairs that lead to the stone platform. We obeyed him without question. After making sure we were spaced out to his liking, the man pulled a beautiful golden key studded with gemstones from his vest and waved it around. A strange sensation washed over me, and suddenly the room changed. My ears felt funny, but after swallowing a few times the sensation passed.

  The room we were now in had polished white floors and walls, with a circular platform made of black marble in the center. There were a couple of gasps from the other children with me, but no one said anything, and the man in grey didn't offer up any information. Instead, he made his way down the steps, the soles of his shoes clacking on the hard stone, before turning and motioning for us to follow him.

  As I exited the room I was in for another surprise. We were no longer in the Creche! I didn't have much time to process what had just happened, however. We were led through a lushly carpeted hallway and ushered outdoors. The sun was high in the sky but the air was colder than I expected.

  Another strange man was waiting for us with a coach that was pulled by a pair of broken-down horses. He tried to appear stern, but it seemed to me that he was just putting on an act. I gave him a little smile as he helped me up into the coach and he looked away.

  The tired horses made an effort to jump when the man cracked the whip and the coach creaked into motion slowly. As we drove away, a lump rose in my throat as I realized I would probably never see the Creche again now that I was old enough to work. Soon I’d have a master that had to be served.

  If there was one thing that the Headmaster had taught me well, it was to avoid punishment in the service of those born with magical abilities. Those born without powers were destined to serve, or so I had been told over and over again. It was the natural order of things because I was inferior in every way.

  I looked around at the other five children in the coach with me: Niko, Aisha, Natalia, Todd, and Jonas. None of them had dry eyes. I wiped the back of my hand across my cheek. It came back wet, too. Aisha and Natalia were holding hands. Todd sucked his dirty thumb. They were never able to get him to stop doing it at the Creche.

  The coach jerked to a sudden halt. A grizzled old woman stood waiting by the side of the road. In the distance, I could see a run-down cluster of about a dozen houses. The man reappeared and pointed to Natalia. She burst into tears and so did Aisha. The coachman opened the coach door, scooped Natalia up, and plopped her down in front of the old woman. Without so much as another word, he quickly scrambled back up into the driver's seat and whistled shrilly. We started moving again.

  Aisha buried her face in her hands and sobbed, so I switched sides to be next to her. We had never really been friends, but I was scared too. I put my arm around her and we rode on in silence. When the coach stopped again, I cringed, hoping that it wasn’t my turn yet. The man opened the door and pointed at Jonas and then Todd.

  Jonas quickly obeyed, but Todd whined and pressed up against the far side of the coach. The burly man who had been waiting for us nudged our driver to the side and reached in for Todd. He grabbed him by an ankle and hauled him out. Todd landed hard on the packed dirt, but the man didn’t relinquish his grip. He dragged Todd off towards the farmhouse in the distance. The driver quickly shut the coach door and we continued on our way.

  Aisha and Niko were dropped off together at a large, red-brick mill that stood on the bank of a river. I was the only one left in the coach, and I wondered what my new building would be like. To my surprise, the coach turned around and headed back toward the mansion.

  When we arrived, a kindly-looking lady hobbled out to meet the coach, her bent frame partially supported by a rough stick. The driver dismounted and pointed at me. I obeyed as quickly as I could, but it was hard to move since one of my legs had fallen asleep. I tried to restore the circulation as the old lady smiled feebly at me and then turned to face the driver.

  “Thank you, Farren.” She said.

  “Ywolcm” He replied.

  Surprised at his handicap, I looked at our coachman and studied his face carefully, but to my eight-year-old eyes, he looked normal. My innocent brain at the time couldn’t guess that his tongue had been cut out.

  The man turned around and hopped back up the coach, so I looked over to the lady who I supposed was now in charge of me. She favored me with another brief smile and introduced herself.

  “I am in charge of all the children that serve in the mansion. You may address me as Grandam Joyce. What is your name, little one?”

  “Arabella.”

  “Well, Arabella, there was a change of plans. You are going to be working in your new master's home. Are you going to be a good girl and work hard for me?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Then let’s get you to the servants’ quarters. There is much to be done today.”

  Thus my life as a slave began.