The Kindred Warrior's Captive Bride: A Kindred Tales PLUS Length Novel

by Evangeline Anderson

  Suddenly, an angelically lovely face with long golden hair and wide blue eyes appeared above her.

  “There, didn’t I tell you?” it said. “A right beauty, ent she? I wager Madam Bigaboo will pay a pretty penny to have this one in her stable.”

  “So she would.” A second lovely face appeared. This one had charming, curly brown locks and clear gray eyes. “Quick—let’s get her out’o that tubb-o and take her over.”

  Tubb-oh—that’s the name of the thing I’m riding in!

  Suddenly things began to come back to her. The walk through the marketplace with Need…meeting the half-fish man, Myakk and his strange pink bathtub steed whose name was…

  “Velda,” she said aloud. “Her name is Velda.”

  There was a strange snorting noise and the shiny pink tub she was in capered a bit, as though in response to her name.

  “Whoa—there!” the first lovely visitor—the one with the blond hair—exclaimed.

  “Take it easy now, little lady,” the second one with the golden-brown ringlets said. “You don’t want to be injured if that tubb-oh gets crazy-like, now do you?”

  “I…I suppose not.” Lan’ara made an effort to sit up and was helped by the two kind strangers who were bending over her.

  “There now,” the first one cooed. “You’re that tired, ent you? Have you come a long way?”

  “I…I don’t know,” Lan’ara admitted. “I don’t remember much. I…I think I must have bumped my head.” She winced as she touched the back of her skull, which still throbbed painfully.

  “Can’t remember much, eh?” The friendly strangers exchanged a glance over her head.

  “I’m afraid not,” Lan’ara said. “I think I need to get back to the main marketplace though. Can you help me find it?”

  Need would be wondering where she was, she thought. It was a good thing she had ended up among such kind and helpful people instead of with the cloners or slavers he had warned her about!

  “Sure we can help you, dearie,” one of the friendly strangers said, smiling broadly to show gleaming white teeth. “But first, wouldn’t you like to go have a nice lie-down somewhere quiet until your head stops aching?”

  “You need to get out of the suns’ light,” the other one said. “It’s too bright when you’re head’s poundin’ like a Yertha drum. Leastways, I always think so after I take a drop too much and wake up in it the next day.”

  Lan’ara had no idea what a Yertha drum was, but her head certainly was pounding. Still, she had a vague idea she shouldn’t leave Velda. What if the tubb-oh wandered away and got lost? What would Myakk use to get himself around? He was half fish, wasn’t he? Or was she mixed up again about the past? How she wished her head didn’t ache so much!

  “Velda,” she said, frowning. “I…I can’t leave her here!”

  “Why of course not. A tubb-oh is quite valuable, so it is. We’ll find a good home for her,” the blond stranger promised.

  “But she already has a home. At least, I think she does,” Lan’ara protested. “I need…”

  But she didn’t get to finish her sentence.

  “Come on now, dearie,” one of the strangers said and then the two of them were helping her out of the shifting, snorting tub. “Come on in to meet good Mistress Bigaboo—she’s as kind as can be and she’ll take good care of you.”

  “Mistress who? Ohhh!” The exclamation was drawn from her when Lan’ara saw the gorgeous structure they were leading her into. It looked like a great, golden palace with high spires and graceful turrets reaching for the sky. The windows were all of sparkling stained glass and beautiful statues of gods and goddesses adorned the front.

  “Did you hurt yourself, dearie?” the blond stranger asked, frowning—which only made his face more charming, Lan’ara thought.

  “Oh, no. I was just so awed at this lovely building.” Lan’ara gestured at the golden palace. “Whoever this Mistress BigBoobs is, she must be extremely influential. Not to mention really wealthy.”

  “That’s Mistress Bigaboo all right,” the curly-headed stranger said. “And as for wealthy, well, she does all right I believe.” He exchanged another look with his friend and the two of them laughed—a heavenly sound which sent chills of pleasure down Lan’ara’s spine.

  Yes, indeed—she was certainly lucky to have ended up in such a nice part of town with such kind and helpful strangers, she thought.

  It was just wonderful.

  Thirty-Five

  “This is fucking terrible!” Need muttered to himself as he surveyed his surroundings. This was where his search for the runaway tubb-oh, which had taken Lan’ara with it, had led, and it couldn’t be worse.

  He was in the shady sector of town—the slums near the docks. The buildings here were all crumbling and rotten with age—looking like the least wind could blow them over. There were puddles of filth in the middle of the rutted road and a slaughter yard not far away—he could tell by the stench of offal in the wind.

  Also, nobody he met would look him in the eyes. Probably the lot of them were cutthroats and thieves and slavers and whoremongers—and this was where Lan’ara had ended up—if his search was correct, and he was pretty sure it was.

  At first he’d had to ask people in the marketplace if they’d seen a runaway tubb-oh carrying a girl. That had gotten him her general direction and then, when he’d gotten out of the overcrowded area, his sensitive Kindred nose had helped him track her.

  By now Need was so attuned to the girl, he would know her sweet, fresh scent anywhere. But there was another scent entwined with it that worried him—the faint, overpoweringly floral scent of yarrow root powder. Had Lan’ara gotten a dose of it as well? And if so, what kind of trip was she having? Was she somewhere scared to death, thinking that an army of demons was coming to drag her to the Seven Hells?

  Need hoped that wasn’t true. A good yarrow root trip only lasted a few hours. But a bad one lasted an entire year—it would be awful if Lan’ara was stuck in some imaginary hellscape she was unable to escape from.

  But even if she’d had a good trip, she could still be in danger. People on a good yarrow trip saw everything around them as heavenly and beautiful. Lan’ara would be completely unprepared for any danger she might meet if she thought everyone around her was a lovely new friend.

  Need stopped in the middle of the street and raked a hand through his hair. Seven Hells, he had to find her—and soon! Now where had that fucking pink tubb-oh gotten to?

  Thirty-Six

  “Well, well, dearie—you’re a beauty and no mistake!” Mistress Bigaboo was a full-figured goddess with a flowing red mane of hair and wide, emerald eyes. When she smiled, she showed the same brilliantly white teeth as the two kind strangers who had brought Lan’ara to her in the first place. And when she laughed, it was like the tinkling of delicate music.

  The clothing she was wearing was the finest Lan’ara had ever seen—a silver tunic and skirt with a broad, golden sash wrapped around her waist. Little pink shoes peeped out from under her skirt too—as dainty and fine as any lady’s.

  “Thank you,” Lan’ara breathed, taking her new hostess in. “You’re absolutely lovely yourself, if you don’t mind me saying so, my Lady.”

  Mistress Bigaboo blushed prettily.

  “Well now, as it happens, I don’t mind a bit,” she declared. “And aren’t you a sweet thing? The customers are going to love that attitude of yours.”

  Lan’ara frowned.

  “Customers? What customers? Do you wish me to work in your shop?”

  “Shop?” Mistress Bigaboo burst into that lovely, angelic laughter again. “Why no, dearie! That’s not what I meant at all. Never mind—you’ll see.”

  “See what?” Lan’ara felt more and more confused. The bump on the back of her head was really hurting and she kept having memories of Need and their walk through the marketplace. Where was the big Kindred now? As nice as everyone was here in the gorgeous golden palace, Lan’ara missed him and wanted to go
home—or at least back to The Dark Heart, which wasn’t technically her home yet but hopefully would be soon.

  “You just come with me, my sweet,” Mistress Bigaboo said to her. “We’ll get you dressed up proper-like before you see your first customer, so we will.”

  “You want me to change clothes?” Lan’ara asked. But then she remembered that she was wet through from the liquid in the tubb-oh. “Actually, it would be nice to put on something warm and dry,” she added.

  “Oh, I think we can find something dry at least.” Mistress Bigaboo’s lovely emerald eyes flashed. “Come along, dearie. Let’s see what we can find for you.”

  She took Lan’ara to an opulent bedroom with a thick woven carpet on the floor and a huge canopy bed in the center. There were golden bedclothes and the canopy was made of fine silk. A broad window overlooked a lovely view of a clear blue river with rainbow colored fish jumping in its clean waters. A soft, fragrant breeze blew in and caressed Lan’ara’s cheek playfully.

  “Here now. Put this on, dearie, and you’ll be ready to work.”

  Lan’ara dragged her eyes away from the beautiful scene outside the window and saw that Mistress Bigaboo was holding out the most gorgeous gown she had ever seen. It was a shimmery silver-green that seemed to change color to silvery-blue depending on how the light hit it. The fabric was made of some diaphanous silk which practically floated on the air, it was so light.

  “Oh, for me?” Lan’ara took the lovely thing carefully. “Thank you, Mistress Bigaboo—you’re too kind!”

  “Why, you’re welcome, dearie. It should show off your assets to perfection. Now put it on.”

  Lan’ara turned modestly and did as she was directed, divesting herself of the sodden shirtdress she had been wearing and slipping into the silky gown.

  She was a little concerned when she saw how low cut the new dress was in front—it left the curves of her breasts almost completely bare and hardly even covered her nipples! Also, it was cut rather high in the skirt area—a long slit ran almost from her navel to her knees, which would have put her panties on display—if she’d had any, which she didn’t.

  “Well? Turn around and let’s see you,” Mistress Bigaboo commanded.

  Lan’ara turned hesitantly, trying to keep her crotch covered with one hand.

  “This is lovely, Mistress Bigaboo, but it’s a bit, er…revealing.”

  “Well it’s meant to be revealing, now ent it?” the other woman exclaimed. “Move your hand, dearie! Why are you guarding your goodies like that?”

  “Well, it’s because I don’t have any…any underthings to wear,” Lan’ara almost whispered, biting her lip in shame. “I’m so sorry—I know it isn’t proper.”

  “Isn’t proper?”

  Mistress Bigaboo erupted into laughter again, only this time it didn’t sound quite so heavenly as before, Lan’ara thought. In fact, it was rather grating on the ear. Why was that?

  “Why would you need panties, for?” Mistress Bigaboo demanded, when she finally got over her mirth. “If you put some on, you’d only have to take them off again.”

  “Take them off?” Lan’ara was confused.

  “To work for me, of course. Which you will do for the rest of your life, dearie.”

  Somehow her shining emerald eyes didn’t look quite so kind as she looked at Lan’ara this time. And her formerly lustrous auburn locks were beginning to look frizzy and unkept. Lan’ara frowned—what was happening? How was the Mistress changing before her eyes?

  But even more than the other woman’s appearance, she was concerned with her words.

  “I’m sorry—did you say you wanted me to work for you the rest of my life?” she asked, laughing a little, for it must be a mistake. “I’m sure I must have misheard you.”

  “Oh, no, dearie—-you heard me right.” The green eyes looked sharp and squinty now and Mistress Bigaboo’s hair was matted and greasy. Also, her formerly lovely gown was changing—turning from fine golden fabric to rough brown homespun.

  The fabric of the dress Lan’ara had put on wasn’t quite so lovely either. Instead of diaphanous silk it appeared to be made of cheap sateen that felt slick to the touch. But it was still every bit as revealing as it had been when she first put it on.

  “What kind of shop are you running here, anyway?” Lan’ara demanded. “And what makes you think I would stay here for the rest of my life?”

  “Why, because I bought you just now, dearie—from Slick and Slob, the two sots as brought you in to me,” Mistress Bigaboo said matter-of-factly.

  “But they don’t own me!” Lan’ara exclaimed. “So they had no right to sell me. Besides, I already have an owner—a Kindred warrior named Needrix. And for your information, my Lord Needrix will be looking for me very soon!”

  She hoped, anyway. But would Need even know which way she had gone? Lan’ara didn’t even know herself—she couldn’t remember a thing after she’d bumped her head.

  “Well, dearie, ‘My Lord Need’ is going to be disappointed,” Mistress Bigaboo snapped. “Because you’re mine now and I ent giving you up! You work for me from this minute on, so get your hand off your goodies and get ready to service your first customer.”

  “Service a customer?”

  Suddenly Lan’ara began to understand. The revealing dress…Mistress Bigaboo insisting that she owned her…the talk of servicing customers.

  “Oh my Gods and Goddesses, this is a Flower House!’ she exclaimed, thoroughly horrified.

  “A what?” Mistress Bigaboo glared at her, clearly confused. She had no beauty left now—it had leaked away, leaving a stout, slovenly hag with long, matted hair and mean, squinty eyes. Lan’ara wondered how she could have been so completely deceived by the other woman.

  “A Flower House,” she repeated. “A place where girls service multiple men sexually.”

  “Well ‘ent that a pretty name.” Mistress Bigaboo snorted laughter. “You can call it that if you like, dearie, but around these parts we just call it a whorehouse and have done with it.”

  “Well, I can’t stay here and…and work in your whorehouse,” Lan’ara protested. “I told you—I am owned by my Lord Need who paid forty thousand credits for me in Yys!”

  “Forty thousand credits, is it?” Mistress Bigaboo’s eyes widened, then narrowed. “Well, that’s something to think of, that is! I reckon I can tell prospective clients that and charge twice as much for you!”

  “But you can’t—” Lan’ara began.

  “Oh, yes I can!” Mistress Bigaboo snapped. “You’re mine now, dearie and that means you’re going to spread your legs for whoever I tell you to! Now get your mind right for I’ll be sending the first client in directly!”

  Then she left, slapping the door closed behind her. Lan’ara rushed over to it but just as she put her hand on the knob, she heard a click and knew the other woman had locked it.

  She tried to turn the knob anyway, but to no avail. The door was firmly locked and she was trapped.

  Feeling sick to her stomach, Lan’ara turned back to face the room, only to see that it had changed the same way Mistress Bigaboo had.

  Instead of a huge canopy bed with feather pillows, she saw a tiny, narrow cot with a rickety wooden frame and a single flat pillow. The golden bedclothes had changed into a gray blanket stiff with the dirt and grime of many encounters. The richly carpeted floor was now made of dirty wooden slats with bare earth peaking through the large gaps between them.

  The broad window was a narrow slit—far too small for Lan’ara to hope of squeezing through. And the scene it showed was a far cry from the one she’d seen the first time she looked out of it. A dirty gray river with streaks of industrial waste flowed sluggishly by outside. Dead fish bobbed on its surface and the smell of raw sewage tainted the sullen wind that blew over the water.

  Lan’ara recoiled from the awful view. What in the Seven Hells, as Need would have said, could have given her the impression that this dirty hovel was a shining palace or that the men who had
apparently sold her to the madam of a whorehouse were kind and friendly? What was wrong with her eyes to make such mistakes?

  Vaguely she remembered Need saying something about the yarrow root powder. Telling her to hold her nose… Had she somehow sniffed some of it, in all the confusion with Velda trying to get at the bag of tanska fruit?

  I must have, Lan’ara thought dismally. How else could I have gotten things so wrong? I must have inhaled some of the drug and now it’s all worn off.

  She only wished it had worn off sooner, before she’d allowed the two men to lead her to meet Mistress Bigaboo, who had now locked her away and was expecting her to “service” clients.

  I can’t do that! Lan’ara thought, feeling sick. It wasn’t just that the idea of having sexual relations with strange men sickened her—it was the fact that the thought of being intimate with anyone but Need made her feel nauseous, she admitted to herself. Literally—her stomach was rolling at the very idea.

  If she sends some man in for me to service, I’m going to be sick all over him, Lan’ara thought. Which would doubtless make the prospective client angry, but it was still better than allowing them to have sex with her. Ugh!

  “I have to get out of here,” Lan’ara muttered to herself as she looked around the narrow cell which had formerly appeared to be a breezy bower. “I can’t stay here—I have to go find Need!”

  But how was she going to manage that?

  Lan’ara had no idea.

  Thirty-Seven

  Need found Velda, the runaway tubb-oh, tied up behind a rundown tavern with two strange males sleeping nearby. One was sprawled on the back steps of the drinking house, snoring. His head was tipped back, his mouth open to show black pegs where his teeth should have been. He had frizzy gray-brown curls around the bald spot at the center of his head. The other had a few wisps of dull blond hair that looked like it hadn’t been washed for years. He was actually inside the living tub, his legs thrown carelessly over the side and a bottle clutched in one hand.