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Reflections of a Recovering Servant
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ISBN-10: 1-55404-107-4
Genre: Fantasy/SF
eBook Length: 186 Pages
Published: January 2004

From inside the flap

Servitude never prepared Stracc to be a fugitive, nor did it prepare him for involvement in the affairs of nobles. Certainly, it never prepared him to deal with something as powerful as the Cursed Sword of Ariendal. Was the Sword responsible for his missing reflection, or was the cause even more sinister? With the help of the beautiful Thea along with Captain Taylor of the late king's guard and a host of unusual characters, Stracc must unravel the greatest conspiracy of all.

Reviews and Awards

Reflections of a Recovering Servant

Far from being just another Tolkein wannabe, the versatile Steve Lazarowitz is a true SF Fantasy original. Whether it is a group of archangels drag-racing Satan in a dusty American town or a golden tree's revenge on the murderer of its beloved guardian, his stories never fail to bemuse, bedazzle and delight.

In fact, it could safely be said that Steve Lazarowitz is to the art of SF/Fantasy writing as Godiva is to chocolate-making; because I know I'm in for a treat whenever I see his name on a story.

Steve first became known for his online serials and Reflections of a Recovering Servant happens to be one of his best. Having followed this rollicking adventure chapter by chapter through its original incarnation, I'm delighted to see Reflections reappear in an ebook edition at Twilight Times.

From its heartstopping beginning to the Byzantine twist at the end, Reflections of a Recovering Servant is a winner. And I'll never look at a mirror in quite the same way again.

Reviewed by Kate Saundby, author of The Wages of Justice, 2001 SF Dream Realm Award winner

"...Mr. Lazarowitz writes liquid prose. It flows like a sparkling mountain stream, dancing over sharp rocks, purling in still pools, reflecting sun, rain, and magic. Straac writes as a recovering servant, giving his reactions to the world around him, and his own growing knowledge that moves him beyond a servant into an unknown position in that non-technological society peopled with kings, wizards, knights, intrigue, mystery, and love.

A delight for the mind, entertainment for the most jaded, and a fresh new look into what constitutes fantasy, REFLECTIONS OF A RECOVERING SERVANT is a book for all seasons and a read for all readers. It has everything: magic, mystery, love, betrayal, and a few things I won't reveal because I would hate to spoil the surprise(s) ."

Reviewed by Patricia Lucas White, author of A Wizard Scorned.

"Steve Lazarowitz is not to be trusted.

Well, not when it comes to his writing, anyway. He has a knack for leading you straight down that proverbial garden path only to discover you're in Jurassic Park. Which brings us to Reflections of a Recovering Servant, where even the title is wordplay.

Condemned to death by his lord and master, Straac, son of poor parents who sold him into service, is rescued from the headsman by the alleged victim of the crime, a fellow servant named Thea, and plunged into a life of freedom that sometimes seems to be more trouble than it's worth. First he falls into a plot to restore the rightful king to his throne. That accomplished, he must then find a way to prevent an invasion. And that's all I'm going to tell you because anything else will spoil the fun.

...Mr. Lazarowitz's magic lies is in making you actually care what happens to [Straac]. Will he survive being pursued by the top swordsman in the kingdom? Will he win Thea's love? Will he ever get over being a servant?

Reflections of a Recovering Servant is precisely what most genres need every so often -- a book that's fun to read and sweetens a healthy dose of thought with a spoonful of diverting sugar. Mr. Lazarowitz knows how to entice his readers into thinking they know whatís ahead when, in fact, they have no idea. His style is crisp and no-nonsense, and his has a talent for creating characters that are, well, just like you and me. When it comes to offering tales brimming with sheer entertainment, there are few writers who can match him."

Reviewed by Elizabeth K. Burton for The Blue Iris Journal

"After too long a wait, here is finally a new fantasy adventure from Steve Lazarowitz, winner of last year's Dream Realm award. This one differs from everything else he has done, but it is not something I wish to tell you about, you must read this to find out for yourself.

...Lazarowitz still has the magic touch and this is just another feather in his cap."

Reviewed by Barry Hunter for Baryon online.

Reflections of a Recovering Servant (Excerpt)

Book One

Chapter One

"Here she comes, Straac. And she doesn't look happy." I turned and watched Lady Melinor approach. Her face was red and her eyes bulged. I sincerely hoped I wasn't the object of her wrath. I held my breath. She stormed past, without even a sidelong glance. I sighed relief and noticed Thea did the same.

"Someone's going to get lashed," I said.

She shrugged. "As long as it's not me, I don't care." Thea was a good-looking girl, young, thin and not quite blonde. She turned away and busied herself cleaning the bureau, no doubt remembering her last beating. I watched for a moment, before turning to finish filling the oil lamps. Most people don't realize how dangerous a servant's job can be.

Soon my job took me into the next room, but the image of Thea stayed with me. I really did like her, though I suspected the interest was one sided. Not that it mattered. There was little tolerated less than servants getting together-- especially if the woman was attractive.

I had no doubt once she was a bit older, some of the high and mighty would be calling her to their beds. Maybe it had happened already. There was nothing I could do about it, so I finished filling the oil lamps on the first floor and set about drawing the water for Lord Etengard's bath. It would take me about half an hour back and forth with buckets to fill the tub. Afterwards, if I was lucky, I'd be able to sneak a five minute break before returning to my chores.

You can't imagine how many times I'd lie awake at night and fantasize about being someone else. Someone who had something - anything - to look forward to. There were times when I'd cursed the gods for making me what I was, not knowing at the time there are fates worse than servitude.

Sometimes, I'd be serving at dinnertime while a bard was entertaining. I'd listened to those tales of adventure with a longing I could never share with even my closest friend, lest I be ridiculed. And still I could not help but long to be the knight that rescued the maiden or the soldier who turned the tide of some great battle.

Alas, it was not to be. I had been given into the service of the Duke as a youth, when my parents could no longer afford to feed me. I can still remember my mother's face clearly enough, but my father's has become the shadow of a ghost. I cried the night I realized I could no longer picture him.

It was only a short time later, while I was helping to move tables about in the dining area, that the guards came. They stood and watched me for a moment, before one spoke. "You're going to have to come with us, Straac."

I put the table down, uncomfortably aware of his grim expression. "Why? I didn't do anything."

"That's not our concern."

He was right, of course. Guards were just servants with swords. I looked at the table which was not yet in its proper place, shrugged and followed them from the room. I wondered what I could have done to deserve a lashing. Surely I wasn't being summoned for a commendation.

The guards flanked me and led me upstairs to Lord Melinor's office. He sat behind his desk with the sternest of expressions on his face. Behind him and to the left, his wife stood silent, face like granite. Off to the side, face stained by tears, stood Thea. She stared at her toes, ignoring my entrance.

"You may go."

With a slight bow, the guards turned and left. I dropped my gaze. "Thea, would you mind waiting outside?"

This surprised me. No one ever spoke that kindly to a servant. I kept my eyes on my feet. I heard the door close. Lord Melinor rose and stood before me. "How dare you?"

I swallowed, but didn't answer. I still didn't know what I had been accused of.

"Did you think we would never find out?"

"Never find out what, M'lord?"

He struck me hard across the face. "Don't play with me. You know what you've done."

But I didn't. I just wouldn't be admitting it again.

Much to my surprise, it was the lady of the house who spoke next. "We have ways of dealing with miscreants like you."

I held my breath. I would not speak again, unless one of them asked me a question. And since I had no idea of what I'd done wrong, I prayed that question wouldn't come.

"You do realize you've left me no choice?"

I realized no such thing, but dared not admit it. "Yes, M'lord."

I steeled myself for what was to come next. It wasn't what I expected.


The door opened again. "Take this man to a holding cell to await my decision."

A holding cell? What did he think I'd done? Certainly nothing to deserve that kind of punishment. I almost spoke up, but didn't want to get struck again. I allowed myself to be led from the room and down to the cellar and confinement.

Several hours later, she came to me. It was pitch dark and I had only just recently become accustomed to the smell of excrement that pervaded the place. "Straac?"



There was silence in the darkness again. I waited until it became obvious she wasn't going to speak. "What news?"

"It's not good."

"I didn't think so. Can you even tell me of what crime I'm being accused?"

Silence. I was about to repeat the question, when I heard her sobbing. I waited until she spoke again. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."


"Because it's all my fault."

I rose now and moved toward the door. "What do you mean, your fault?"

Her voice was clear and she spoke slowly. "Several months ago, Lord Melinor had his way with me for the first time. I was scared. I had never been with a man before."

I dropped my head and swallowed. "Did he hurt you?"


Of course he did. He wouldn't care if he caused a servant discomfort. I tried to block the image of the master of the house pawing Thea's young virgin body, but couldn't. I grew angry. "That bastard."

"He told me to tell no one and I didn't. I didn't dare. I did everything he asked of me and cried myself to sleep each night. I had no choice, you understand."

I didn't answer. She had to know I did.

"But what does this have to do with me?" It wasn't that I didn't care about her, but rather that I had far more reason at the moment to be concerned for myself. Thea was walking around free.

"I'm with child."

My breath caught in my throat.

"When Lady Melinor found out, she grew furious. She confronted her husband and demanded to know if the child was his."

A sinking feeling began to form in the pit of my stomach.

"What happened?"

"Lord Melinor came to me again. He told me to tell them you raped me."


"I had no choice. He said he'd kill me if I didn't."

"So what is to become of me?"

"They're going to kill you, Straac. They're going to kill you and there isn't anything I can do about it. I'm sorry." She burst into tears again.

At first I started to grow angry, but felt it slip away. What choice did she really have? Would I have done things any differently in her place? I placed my hand flat against the door. "Listen to me, Thea. Please, listen to me."

The sobbing diminished, then stopped altogether. "This is not your fault. You had no choice. I don't blame you."

For a second, she said nothing. Then tears flowed anew.

"Whatever happens to me, I want you to take care of yourself and your baby. Do you understand?"

I could only barely comprehend her answer. Then she was gone and I was left alone to contemplate my uncertain future.

I didn't sleep that night. I didn't even bother trying. I was awake when the guards came to bring me back to Lord Melinor's study. He waved them away and we were alone. I stood before him, terrified and angry at the same time.

"You realize your actions have left me little choice but to recommend death."

I didn't respond. With only two of us present, I don't know why he continued the charade. Perhaps he was unaware I knew the truth. Yet if I spoke out, I would be condemning Thea to the fate I was about to suffer. This, I couldn't do. Or I would be called a liar and killed anyway. If only I could figure out a way to escape.

I looked at him then, Lord Melinor. He wasn't a large man, though he had a fierce temper. I was much larger and stronger. Yet laying my hands on his body was still something I couldn't bring myself to do, though he was sentencing me to death. Habits of a lifetime cannot be changed in an instant. Besides, if I could overpower him, which seemed likely, there would be no way to get past the guards outside the door. If I were to escape, it would have to come later.

"My lord, I am not guilty of this crime."

"Do you have any proof of this?"

That, of course, was the question. If I could find some evidence that I was not the father of the child, my life would be spared. But what could I present that would clear me of these most serious charges?

I thought for a few seconds, then shook my head. Lord Melinor smiled a sad smile. "I thought not...guards!"

The door opened and the same men that had brought me here entered. "Take him back to his cell. There will be a public execution tomorrow at dawn."

And that was the proverbial that.

On the way back to the cell, the guards were gentler with me than they had been on the way up. Perhaps they felt I did not deserve to die for my crimes, or perhaps they knew the truth of things, as I'm sure many of the palace servants did. Not that it would change anything.

Today, the criers would be about, announcing at the top of their lungs that a man was to meet his untimely demise tomorrow at dawn. People would stick their heads from windows and emerge from doorways to watch the criers pass. Afterwards, many would gather on the streets to talk about what I might have done. There will be much speculating and some will claim to know. The same people that always knew.

Tomorrow at dawn, I would be publicly beheaded in the town square. A bit of entertainment for the common folk. They'll line the streets waiting for the cart to pass. I'll be lying in the back, trussed up like a holiday roast. I wondered if I would even feel it as I was jostled around in the back, or if my mind would be so full of my impending demise, that I might be immune to physical pain.

Some of the folk will throw fruits or even stones, but not many. That treatment is usually reserved for well publicized criminals. I was a nobody. In fact, the only reason the event had been scheduled so soon is that Lord Melinor was afraid I would talk or someone else would. Once I was dead, no one would speak the truth.

I was so lost in thought, I didn't remember the walk back to the cell, or the guards locking me in. I had only a few hours left to live and I would live them here. I placed my hand on the back of my neck, then took it away, when I realized in only a matter of hours a headman's ax would be passing through that territory. I sat on the floor and tried to close my eyes. I didn't think I could sleep, but I must have been mistaken for I awoke in the middle of the night to a whispered voice.

"Are you okay?"

I struggled into a sitting position and took a few moments to remember I was not, before answering. "Should I be?"

"I'm sorry. I really am, but there was no other way."

"I know that, Thea. Why are you here? To apologize? Don't waste your breath. In a short while, all the apologies in the world will mean nothing to me."

There was a long silence. Finally, I could take it no longer. "Thea? Thea?" But she was gone. My words had sent her on her way. I would spend my last hours alive alone and in fear.

The wait seemed impossibly long. Surely there weren't this many hours in a night. Finally, somewhat before dawn, a cadre of guards came to take me to my meet my destiny. Lord Melinor was taking no chances.

I thought back to all of the heroic tales of combat and escape. I held them in my head, even while the guards bound me. How distant those heroes now seemed.

For how could I, a common servant, hope to overpower seven guards and escape unscathed, bound as I now was? They even tied my feet together and carried me like a sack of potatoes out through the servant's entrance. I had closed my eyes, so when I was tossed unceremoniously into the back of the cart, I was unprepared for the impact. Fortunately, the bottom was lined with a thin layer of straw, so it only hurt a bit. I had the urge to relieve myself but wouldn't. Not here. I wished I'd had the presence of mind to go back in the cell.

The ride to the square seemed to take forever. I occasionally thought I heard jeers shouted over the sounds of hoof beats and creaking wheels, but couldn't be sure. It was like a dream.

At length, the ride came to an end and I was dragged to my feet and held there. The crowd was smaller than I'd thought it would be and the executioner's block bigger. The cart had pulled all the way to the front of the crowd. I was only a few feet from the place where my life would end. The executioner wore a mask, but I could tell who it was from his body. Not that it mattered. I had no friends to avenge me. In a day or two, most people would forget I'd ever existed. Everyone but the servants at the palace, who would remember for the rest of their lives, sad for it happening, but glad all the same it had not happened to them.

The guards dismounted and walked around to stand on the ground before me. One of them cut the ropes on my legs so I could stand without being held. The people would want to see me.

Lord Melinor was there, a stern look on his fat face. I had never before dared think of him in such terms, but I had no reason not to now. Lord Melinor was a fat, pompous oaf, who was about to give the order that would end my existence. In that moment, I hated him as much as it was possible to hate a person. I hated him and all he stood for. I hated all nobility, who could do what they wanted to whom they wanted, because they owned property.

The guards stood before me, Lord Melinor just past them and the executioner, holding a huge ax, just beyond.

I found myself unable to take my eyes from the blade, until Lord Melinor started speaking. "My friends, we are gathered here this morning to take our collective vengeance on a a fiend, who would take the virginity of a young woman against her will."

There was a gasp from the crowd. Several people shouted insults. I ignored them. They weren't to blame for this farce. Bound as I was, there wasn't a damned thing I could do about it.

Lord Melinor talked for a long time, but I had trouble concentrating on his words. What was the point? They were lies anyway. So I stood and shifted my gaze from the crowd to the headsman, who stood impassively watching. At least the mask made him seem impassive. No one would know if he were laughing or crying beneath. Nor did it matter. All that mattered was Lord Melinor had stopped talking.

My time to die had arrived.