Ilika woke early, got his morning porridge and juice, and returned to his room.
All of his preparations for testing the thirty slaves had been relatively easy so far. He had rented a space, hired a pair of healers, found an artist, requested pads of paper, bought pencils, and ordered wooden partitions so his candidates couldn’t cheat. Now it was time to begin the hard part.
Ilika pulled a small, thin, rectangular device from his shoulder bag. As he set it on the crude wooden table beside his hand-made ceramic bowl of stone-ground porridge, its display screen glowed slightly, and strange symbols on tiny keys shimmered. He touched several keys, causing words in another language to appear on the screen and keys to change color. As he ate his cereal, he began to scan the hundreds of subjects and tens of thousands of test questions the little device contained.
It wasn’t long before he laughed out loud, seeing how few of the questions, even after translation, could be used with the people he needed to test. After a minute of thought, he grabbed paper and pencil and started writing his own questions, in the local language, occasionally glancing at his device for inspiration.
As lunchtime approached, Ilika looked over the questions he had created to test raw intelligence, and the drawings to go with them. The sound of knocking and the voice of the innkeeper’s son announced the arrival of lunch.
“My mother wants to know if she should stock meat for that big group.”
Ilika was silent for a moment, and his expression revealed an inner conflict. “Just a little, a small piece for each of them.”
“Are you . . . really preparing for a long journey?”
“Yes, far beyond the borders of this land. Have you ever thought of traveling?”
“Me, sir? No, I’m . . . I’m afraid of the water,” the lad said with downcast eyes. “I don’t even like going outside the city.”
Ilika gave the boy a copper piece.
That afternoon, keeping the vocabulary and grammar as simple as possible, Ilika translated a series of questions to reveal the slaves’
personalities. As dinnertime approached, he set aside his work and walked to the little pencil shop, where he found his pencils waiting. On his way back to the inn, he strolled by the bakery.
“I haven’t seen you in a while,” Tori said.
“I’ve been preparing to test my candidates. You wouldn’t believe how hard it is to write questions for uneducated slaves who have no reason to trust you.”
The baker thought about it for a moment, then shook his head. “I don’t envy you.”
“Can you have three dozen fruit tarts ready after dinner four days from now?”
“They will be fresh out of the oven!”
Ilika got a bowl of stew on the way back to his room. To bring out the slaves’ ethical values, he had to translate both the language and the situation.
After tossing four sheets of paper, he finally created a discussion question that looked promising.
Later, he wandered down to the common room to see what was available for dessert. Sata was the only one in the kitchen, busy cleaning up.
Her eyes didn’t quite meet his as she handed him a dish of custard. “Sir, are you going to consider girls for your traveling companions?”
“Y . . . yes. Girls are just as welcome as boys.”
“The people you are going to test . . . are they all slaves?”
“At the moment, yes.”
“Is that for some reason, or just because they were handy?”
He took a bite of custard to buy time to think. “I tried the religious orders, the guilds, the College of Nobles, and many workshops. The people I want might be in those places, but the strict rules won’t allow me to talk to them and test them, like I can with slaves.”
“If you discovered someone who wanted to be tested, but they weren’t a slave, would you let them?”
He took another bite of custard, trying hard not to smile. “Is the person who might want to be tested named Sata?”
“Um . . . yes,” she said in a tiny voice.
Ilika took a slow, deep breath. “Maybe. It would have to be okay with your parents, and I would have to tell them what I’m about to tell you.”
“Okay.”
“The truth is, Sata, I am a ship’s captain, and I’m looking for a crew. It’s a small ship that doesn’t need big, strong men like most ships. It needs smart people who are willing to learn many, many new things.”
“I like learning new things,” she said with hopeful eyes, looking up for the first time. “You taught me what a thousand is, and I taught my brother!”
“Good. But here’s the part I want you to listen to very carefully. My ship and its crew will be leaving this kingdom and going far, far away. We might not be back for years, so you would have to say good-bye to your family and friends, your city, and your kingdom.”
Her eyes lowered and she remained silent.
He let a few moments pass. “You still have three days to think about it.
Good night, Sata.”
When Ilika awoke the following morning, the sun was rising in a clear sky, and he could hear the sounds of the marketplace as it came to life. Getting his breakfast, he tipped Sata for his fruit juice as always. She flashed him a tiny smile, but said nothing.
The morning passed as he completed the translation of questions about the mental health of his candidates, and several drawing projects to tell him
how well their brains worked. With a sigh of relief, he looked back over the questions and projects he had prepared, all inscribed on sheets of rough paper spread out on his bed and table.
While relaxing in the common room at lunchtime with soup and grilled bread, Sata wandered by. She glanced around, then whispered, “I’m still thinking about it.”
Ilika nodded, and tried to keep his surprise from showing.
Still dressed as a merchant of the city, Ilika made his way out into the sunshine and northward through the streets of Rumble Town. When he arrived at the slave market, he was again, to his shame, recognized and waved right in.
The slave master leaned back in his chair. “My good friend! Come in and sit. Wine? Ale?”
Ilika tried very hard to conceal his discomfort. “A glass of cold water would be nice.”
A servant left the room to fulfill the request.
“You are going to be amazed at the line-up I have for you, and hard pressed to not buy all thirty! If you’d like, I could get you more . . .”
Ilika nearly choked. “I think thirty is all I can handle.”
“Suit yourself. I did run into one additional expense . . .”
“Yes?”
“Since you want me to hold them until noon the following day, I cannot send them back to work that morning, so we must pay for one and a half days of their time.”
“Not a problem.”
“Okay, so you owe me forty-five silver for the slaves’ time, and three for the guards.”
Ilika placed five great silver pieces on the table.
The slave master grinned. “Ah! You’ve finally learned how to carry money, I see.”
Ilika smiled. “Of course, if you have indeed found more than thirty, you may be able to increase the number I purchase by making sure the ones you send are what I want.”
NEBADOR Book One: The Test 63
“I will personally double-check the list the evening before. Where do you want them delivered?”
“Doko’s Inn, on the east side of the plaza.”
“I know it, have eaten there several times. Good cooks. Are the rooms okay?”
“Simple but clean. I want the slaves there as soon as possible after sunrise.”
“It shall be done!”
“And the ones I select the following day need to be in the same condition as I leave them.”
“I guarantee it. I never let the guards play with merchandise that has good sales potential.”
Ilika shuddered, but disguised it by draining his cup of water, rising, and extending his hand.
After leaving the slave market, he wandered into Rumble Town and had not gone far when a public bath house caught his eye. The man at the counter, his body twisted from some disease, looked at Ilika with wide eyes.
“Sir, this is not a bath house for you.”
“I can bathe at my inn, but I will soon be buying some slaves, and I want to get them cleaned up right away.”
“Fresh warm water, with soap and towel, is one copper each.”
“How many people can you take at once?”
“Six. Or we have a big outdoor pool.”
The attendant hobbled through the inner door and Ilika followed. The
man pointed out the rock pool, large enough for ten people.
Ilika grinned. “Perfect! Can you fill it with fresh, warm water?”
“If you tell us ahead of time. It costs a small silver and comes with soap and towels.”
“I want it at noon four days from today.”
The twisted man nodded and hobbled back toward the reception counter.
Back at the inn, Ilika spent the entire evening pondering what to say to the young slaves when they first arrived, early in the morning, knowing nothing about who he was or why they were there.
Deep Learning Notes
Ilika had an information device full of possible test questions, but winds up writing his own. Our own history of intelligence testing is littered with old tests that failed to test intelligence, but instead tested something else. Most often they succeeded in testing socio-economic class membership.
When Ilika first began his search, he asked about people ages fifteen and up.
Soon he was considering a thirteen-year-old. Now Sata, age ten, is asking to be included. He is not actually changing his standards, just learning that in that culture, the openness of youth, combined with a reasonable level of maturity from life experience, comes at an earlier age than he expected.
A small map shows the location of the public bath house Ilika discovered where he could get his newly-purchased slaves cleaned up.
Chapter 13: A Matter of the Heart
Morning light revealed a sprinkling of cold, white powder on every roof and street. The common room was crowded with guests who wished they could find an excuse to stay indoors all day, but after a prolonged breakfast, most had to leave on business or journeys.
Doko assured Ilika that a snow this late in the spring would quickly melt, and there was little chance it would affect his upcoming event.
As Ilika was nearing the bottom of his bowl of hot porridge, Sata wandered near his table and continued to wipe other tables as she spoke. “I think I’m going to ask my parents. Is there anything else I should know before I do?”
“The important thing to realize, Sata, is that you would be going off on your own . . . following a profession on your own . . . succeeding or failing on your own. If your parents are not ready to let you take your own chances, then I cannot consider you.”
She swallowed. “I think I understand. I have to sink or swim on my own, and they have to say it’s okay.”
“Right.”
She busied herself with her work, and Ilika headed out into the cold.
His instincts told him to be wary as he approached the candy shop, even though several days had passed. He stepped through the door, tracking in as little snow as possible.
“Today’s batch is not yet ready,” an older woman said as she worked in the
kitchen, “it being so early and the supplies were late because of the snow, but I have many things left over from yesterday that are half-price.”
“An assortment of left-overs sounds good. Also, I’m looking for the young lady who was tending the counter when I was last here, six days ago, in the afternoon. Will she be in today?”
“Oh, my. I’m sorry, but the owner booted her,” the woman explained in a kindly voice, coming up to the counter. “She offended some priests, and they complained.”
Ilika turned red with anger and guilt, then slowly took on a softer and more forlorn look.
“I’m sorry,” the woman said with genuine concern. “I can see she was special to you.”
Ilika had to swallow several times and breathe slowly and deeply before he could speak. “Do you . . . know how I can . . . contact her?”
“No, I’m sorry, I don’t. She is not a noble’s daughter. She lives somewhere near the Traveler’s Gate, I think.”
“Please, what is her name?” he pleaded with a sad tone. “I was . . . rushed and didn’t have a chance to ask her.”
The woman looked into his moist eyes. “Her name is Zini.”
“Thank you,” he whispered, a great depth of sadness coloring his voice.
“Here’s your candy.”
He looked down at the box of assorted sweets. Somehow, he had lost his appetite, but paid for them and left the woman an extra silver piece.
Stepping out into the cold air, Ilika felt an emptiness that he didn’t know how to fill. He wandered slowly down the street, not knowing or caring where he was going.
Ilika of Satamia stayed away from Doko’s Inn for several hours. For lunch, he half-heartedly nibbled on something he bought at a street-side stand somewhere in Rumble Town.
Eventually he wandered back to familiar territory, and found himself sharing his sad story with the baker. Without tasting it, Ilika ate a tart while Tori kneaded dough for the last batch of the day.
“Why don’t you find her and ask if she’d like to spend some time?” Tori
asked.
Ilika was silent and thoughtful for a long moment. “Like I said, I only know her name.”
“The crier’s office is right up the street.”
Ilika almost choked on the tart. “You mean . . . they could find someone?”
“Sometimes you seem like a smart young man, and other times I think you were born just last week!”
A half-smile crept onto Ilika’s face for the first time in several hours.
“I need to find someone urgently,” Ilika explained to the little round man behind the counter.
The crier took paper and pencil and carefully wrote as his customer spoke.
“I can find her, if she’s in the city and wants to be found. The message to give her?”
Ilika composed a message that invited her to dine with him at the inn.
“I’ve lots of work waiting. I can start this one in four or five days. Cost is a small silver a day until I find her or you say stop.”
“I understand you are busy, but if you happen to find her today, I will give you a small gold piece, and if tomorrow, five great silvers.”
“Well . . . um . . . yes, these other jobs aren’t so important,” the crier said, reaching for his coat and bell.
Just before he stepped into the inn, Ilika could already hear the crier heading up Market Way toward the gate. Zini, who worked in a candy shop!
Zini, who worked in a candy shop!
With mid-afternoon slowly passing, Ilika found only one other guest in the common room, nursing a mug of ale. A fire crackled in the fireplace, and someone occasionally rattled pans in the kitchen. Ilika selected a small table.
Suddenly, Sata entered, followed closely by her mother.
“Well, see what the good captain Liko would like to eat or drink!”
Sata approached his table a bit shyly, but was grinning from ear to ear.
“Hello, sir. I told them! What can I get for you?”
“Can you get fruit juice at this hour, Sata?”
“I think so.”
He handed her two copper pieces, and she dashed for the door. The innkeeper’s wife came near, but was reluctant to sit down.
Ilika gestured at the chair across from him. “Please, Mosa, sit and speak your mind.”
“We are so very happy that you might let Sata be tested. We have long seen that she is too full of smarts and curiosity to stay cooped up in this little inn. Our son is probably going to take it over when we are old, but we have been at a loss to know what to do with Sata, other than marriage. For the life of me I don’t understand how a girl could work on a ship, but we are thrilled that she might be able to get some training and see the world.”
While Mosa spoke, Ilika’s expression changed several times as he discarded his earlier assumptions. “There are several jobs on my ship that Sata could possibly do. For example, there is a steward who takes care of the passengers, and a navigator who has to be good with numbers.”
At that moment Sata came in with the cup of juice and set it on the table.
Mosa grinned proudly at her daughter. “Sata, you could be a steward or a navigator!”
The girl acted shy for a moment, but couldn’t conceal her excitement.
Ilika took a pull of the tasty juice. “Can I assume that Doko feels the same as you?”
“Oh, yes,” Mosa said. “If anything, the parting will be harder for me.”
“Come, sit with us, Sata,” he said. “I already know you are a good worker, but there are many things about you I don’t yet know. You both must understand that I will have to be fair. If you score well on the tests, and have the right qualities, I will offer you a place on my crew. But I won’t take you just because I’ve known you longer than the others.”
Sata looked indignant. “I want to do all my own work, fair and square.”
“Good. I’ve already seen that you like learning. So . . . I guess you have a seat in this room the day after tomorrow.”
“Hurray!” the girl cheered, jumping up and dancing around in circles.
“Shush!” her mother said. “There are other guests!”
“Sorry.”
Zini failed to arrive that evening for dinner, and the crier’s office remained
shut.
Ilika waited as long as he could. When the innkeeper’s son announced he had to wash the pot, Ilika accepted the last bowl of stew. He sat in a dark corner, ate slowly, and sipped on a small cup of ale.
Finally, when everyone else turned to drinking and smoking, he dragged himself up to his room. The emotions of the day and the ale left him without energy or clarity, so he lay on his bed and let himself doze.
At what seemed like midnight, he was awakened by a knock on his door.
“It’s Doko! The crier says he has urgent business with you.”
Ilika opened the door. The crier looked very pleased with himself.
“I found her at about the eleventh hour. Very pretty girl. Her response is that she will come to dinner tomorrow. She also said something about the back door, hoping you wouldn’t have to use it. I didn’t understand that part.”
Ilika smiled, lost in a sweet memory until he realized the crier was clearing his throat.
“It’s very late, sir, and I’d like to be heading home.”
Ilika produced a small gold piece from his pouch, and the crier bowed and departed.
“Shall I set a table in the common room tomorrow evening, and see if Mosa has something special she’d like to make?”
With an effort, Ilika focused his mind. “That would be wonderful, Doko.
Will this cover a nice dinner for two?” he asked, handing the innkeeper a couple of silver pieces.
“It will cover it very well, sir. And thank you for letting Sata be tested. She is so excited, I don’t think she’ll sleep tonight or tomorrow night.”
“I know how she feels.”
Deep Learning Notes
When Ilika assumed he had no way to find Zini (just before learning about the crier), what incorrect assumption about that society was he making?
Deep discussion question for advanced students: In the last thousand years,
the age of beginning to train for a profession has gone from less than ten, to about eighteen or more. In the future, will it be even higher, stay the same, or fall back to a lower age? What circumstances do you imagine will exist in society at that future time to justify your answer?
