Cheregh

Cheregh told me today that there is nothing more he can teach me.  He says my grasp of the language is enough that his lessons would prove fruitless.  I think this is the first compliment I have ever received from him.  Verbally at least.  I can see it in his face sometimes, that he is proud of my writing accomplishments, but I think it just isn’t in him to say anything aloud.

Perhaps I will be a teacher when I am older.  If it can calm one like Cheregh, surely I could get some joy out of it.  He has seemed less cruel since I expressed an interest in his tutelage.  The beatings are less frequent, and he almost seems to avoid my hands, so as not to impair them from practice.  Whenever I am not working he has me at the paper, practicing, so my script will be more fluent, he says.  I wonder at his true motives for this, and may he never find this journal, but perhaps he actually favors to set me free some day.

I am told that we are nearing Quan, the evil Kang Empire which has enslaved my people.  Gunter tells me awful stories of what they will do to me when I am sold there.  His tales cause me great anxiety.  I am no stranger to slavery, but compared to what I have endured, this land sounds like a nightmare for me.  The only comfort I can take in arriving at our destination comes from my tutor.  He says there will be much for me to learn from my ancestors.

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