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."
"What for, Pop?"
"Get it."
The boy fetched it; Baslim examined it -- "one male child, registered number (left thigh) 8XK40367" -- nine minims and get out of here, you! He looked at Thorby and noted with surprise that he was a head taller than he had been that day. "Get my stylus. I'm going to free you. I've always meant to, but there didn't seem to be any hurry. But we'll do it now and tomorrow you go to the Royal Archives and register it."
Thorby's jaw dropped. "What for, Pop?"
"Don't you want to be free?"
"Uh . . . well . . . Pop, I like belonging to you."
"Thanks, lad. But I've got to do it."
"You mean you're kicking me out?"
"No. You can stay. But only as a freedman. You see, son, a master is responsible for his bondservant. If I were a noble and you did something, I'd be fined. But since I'm not . . . well, if I were shy a hand, as well as a leg and an eye, I don't think I could manage. So if you're going to learn Ziggie's trade, I had better free you; I can't afford the risk. You'll have to take your own chances; I've lost too much already. Any more and I'd be better off shortened."
He put it brutally, never mentioning that the law in application was rarely so severe -- in practice, the slave was confiscated, sold, and his price used in restitution, if the master had no assets. If the master were a commoner, he might also get a flogging if the judge believed him to be actually as well as legally responsible for the slave's misdeed
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