Kwin

by Trudie Collins

  “None taken,” Shona said. “Have others been here long?”

  “No. A few wagon loads arrive each day. A couple of the older men have been here for a few weeks, having failed to receive bids at auction. They have resigned themselves to the fact that they are going to die here.”

  Shona shivered. The thought of dying in this place made her feel sick. She thanked Kail for his information then left him in peace.

  Some of the prisoners were still being processed when a group of guards entered the pen, escorting an overfed Wayvern male and a smartly dressed young man from Tippet. His shackles were clearly on display, revealing that he was not there willingly; he was no collaborator.

  Shona moved closer to them, but they were conversing in the Wayvern language so she couldn’t understand what was being said. The way they were looking at the prisoners showed that they were looking for someone.

  They walked over to a woman, about Shona’s age, with long blonde hair and blue eyes, and the Tippetian began to question her. He shook his head and scanned the crowd once more.

  When his eyes fell on Shona, they widened. He said something to the man who was escorting him and the two made their way over to her, surrounded by guards.

  “My Lady,” he said and bowed his head. “My master sent me here to purchase a slave for him and as soon as I was informed that there was a member of the aristocracy here, I knew you had to be the one.”

  Shona said nothing, so the man continued. “The translator who dealt with your shackling described you well. You really are as beautiful as he said.” Still Shona said nothing. The man shrugged his shoulders then said something in the Wayvern language to the fat man with him, who turned away and signalled for the guards to follow him.

  “My name is Brend,” the slave said. He held out his arm. “May I escort you out of here?”

  “What if I say no?”

  A pained expression crossed Brend’s face. “Then you will be dragged out by the guards and they won’t be gentle. I’m sure you would prefer a more dignified exit.”

  “Where are you taking me?”

  “To your new home. You will not be auctioned off. The price I have just agreed to pay for you was enough to ensure that. Your beauty would have caused a bidding war, but even the auctioneer knows he would not have got as much for you as my master was prepared to pay.”

  It seemed that taking his arm was the lesser of two evils so Shona did as requested and gracefully walked out of the pen. Her heart went out to those who were still there. They had no idea what would happen to them. Then again, nor did she. She had been bought, but what that entailed she had yet to find out.

  Brend said nothing more to her until she was in a carriage and moving swiftly away from the slave enclosure. He was wearing the controller for her shackles so she made no move to get away from him. He had done nothing to indicate that he would use force against her, but it was not worth taking the risk. Instead she decided to break the silence.

  “Why has your master purchased me? What will my duties be?”

  Brend showed no emotion as he said, “My master is in need of a pleasure slave.”

  A chill ran down Shona’s spine. She tried to keep the dread out of her voice. “So I am to be repeatedly raped am I?”

  “That is up to you.”

  Shona could not believe what she was hearing. “You think I would willingly give myself to a man who has just bought me?” she asked incredulously.

  “That is not what I am suggesting.”

  “Then what are you suggesting?”

  “That is for my master to tell you, not me.”

  Shona sighed in frustration. She regarded Brend, looking at him closely, trying to work out the type of man he was. He was shorter than average for their race and he seemed young, barely into his twenties. His blonde curly hair framed an almost feminine face. Shona would have described him as pretty rather than handsome. His lashes were long enough to make many women jealous.

  “Why are you doing this?” she asked. “Why are you doing your master’s dirty work?”

  Brend seemed surprised by the question. “He is my master,” he said.

  “But you shouldn’t have a master. You used to be a free man. Release me. Together we might have a chance of getting back to Tippet.”

  Brend shook his head. “Why would I want to go back? There I was poor. I had to work long hours just to make enough money to prevent me starving. Here I have everything I need. I’m well fed, clothed. I have a roof over my head. I am well treated. What more could I possibly want?”

  “Your freedom?”

  “Freedom is overrated. It’s also an illusion. The poor have no freedom. In Tippet they are owned by the rich, it just isn’t made official. They can make the poor do whatever they want without taking any responsibility for their well-being.”

  There was bitterness in Brend’s tone. Shona wanted to ask what had happened to him to cause such emotional scars, but she remained silent. He had turned to look out of the carriage window, indicating he didn’t wish to speak any further on the subject.

  The rest of the journey was made in silence. Shona watched houses pass by as they travelled through a number of small villages and soon it was too dark to see anything more. She closed her eyes and dozed off, jerking awake when the carriage stopped.

  “We are at my master’s estate,” Brend said.

  “What time is it?” Shona asked sleepily. She felt like she hadn’t slept properly in weeks.

  “Late. But my master will still be up.”

  “Doesn’t he have a name?”

  Brend smiled. “Of course he does, but he will decide what you will call him.”

  Despite the darkness, Shona could see how large the house was. Her new master was extremely rich. Brend helped her step out of the carriage. She could have resisted, but what would have been the point?

  She found she was trembling as he led her into the house and up the stairs. “The east wing is for guests, the west for family. The servants all live downstairs,” he explained as they ascended.

  “Servants? Don’t you mean slaves?”

  “It’s what my master likes to call us. We are well treated so, other than the fact we don’t get paid, we are more like servants.”

  “Other than the fact that he owns you,” Shona said. Brend did not reply.

  He stopped in front of a set of doors and knocked, waiting politely to be given permission to enter.

  Brend took Shona’s hand and almost dragged her into the room in his haste to obey when he heard his master’s voice. “Master, I have what you requested. This is Lady Shona.”

  Shona found herself in a tastefully styled sitting room. Tapestries covered the walls, all depicting various outdoor scenes. A low cupboard to one side held a decorated vase full of blue flowers and a rug covered most of the floor.

  Two couches stood facing each other, both covered in red velvet. Only one was occupied. The young man looked up as they entered, the book he had been reading still in his hands. He beamed at Brend then cast his eyes over Shona.

  She wasn’t sure what she had been expecting, but it definitely wasn’t this. He seemed to be about her age, too young to be master of the house. Then she realised that he might not be. Brend always referred to him as ‘my master’, not ‘the master’. He could be the son of the owner, or a younger brother.

  While the man assessed her, she did the same to him. He was pleasant to look at, or would have been if not for the blue in his skin. She could imagine him being a hit with the Wayvern ladies. He was wearing a tight fitting green silk robe, tied at the waist. It did nothing to hide his trim but not overly muscular body. Shona couldn’t help thinking it clashed with the sofa.

  “Turn around,” the man said, taking Shona by surprise. He had spoken her language.

  “I have been teaching him our language,” Brend explained. “He’s a fast learner.”

  Shona obeyed the order, turning around slowly. She could feel his eyes on her and it
made her feel like nothing more than a piece of meat the man was deciding whether to eat or not.

  “You have done well, Brend. She is exactly what I need.”

  “Thank you master,” he said, bowing his head slightly. Despite being his slave, Brend appeared to respect this man.

  “Sit down,” he instructed, indicating the empty couch with his hand. Shona sat. Brend chose to remain standing.

  “My name is Fillen, though most of my servants call me master. I haven’t yet decided whether I will let you use my name. It will depend on how you behave.”

  Shona remained silent, so he continued. “Brend has purchased you to be my pleasure slave, but I have no interest in taking you to my bed. How you are treated is up to you. Act like a proper pleasure slave should, make everyone believe that we are sleeping together, and you will have every luxury you can imagine. Let anyone know that we are not having sex and I will hand you over to my guards and I will find another slave to take your place.”

  His voice had started out soft and warm. By the time he finished it was cold and hard. Shona had no doubt he meant every word he said.

  “What would my duties be?” She was ashamed when her voice shook.

  “You will escort me wherever I go, wait on me, see to my needs. If you really are a Lady, then you would have had a maid. Here in Wayvern, pleasure slaves take on that role. And much more.”

  “You will not force me to have sex? With anyone?”

  “Not if you behave.”

  “I will teach you all you need to know,” Brend said. “There is certain etiquette that you will have to follow. You must always walk on his left side and one step behind, that sort of thing. I’ll also attempt to teach you the local language. I’ve been trying to teach the other servants, but I’m not having much success. They seem unwilling to learn.”

  “Why would they want to?” Shona asked quietly.

  The comment seemed to amuse Fillen. “I think I am going to like you.”

  There was one more question Shona wanted to have answered. She had heard rumours about how pleasure slaves were treated. “What if the master of this house wants me?”

  Fillen’s smile widened. “I am the master of this house. My father was not a nice man so I arranged for him to have a small accident. My mother remarried and moved away, so everything you see here is mine. I am very wealthy and invest my money well and I intend to stay that way.”

  Shona felt lost. She couldn’t understand what was going on. Why would someone buy her as a pleasure slave but not treat her as such? It made no sense. Something was going on but she was too tired to try to work out what.

  “It’s late,” Fillen said. “Brend, have someone show Shona to her room. Tomorrow you will go shopping and find her something more suitable to wear. While that dress might be well liked at the slave auctions, as far as I am concerned, it should be burned.”

  Brend bowed his head then walked over to the table and rang a bell which Shona had not noticed. It made no sound.

  “Magically enhanced,” Brend said when she frowned at him. “It rings down in the servants’ quarters.”

  It didn’t take long for a young serving girl to arrive. When she had received her orders, she bowed low then asked Shona to follow her.

  Shona was led down the corridor to a room not far from Fillen’s suite. She had been expecting to be taken down the stairs to the servants’ quarters, but then realised that, as a pleasure slave, she would be located near her master’s bedroom. She wondered, momentarily, why she had not been given a room in his suite.

  The room she entered was luxurious. The four-poster bed was large and the bed linen appeared to be silk. It was well lit by more light crystals than she had ever seen in one room, revealing a number of doors. A vanity unit was to one side, with a large mirror, and the floor looked like it was marble. But it couldn’t be. In Tippet, not even the king was rich enough to have marble floors in the bedrooms.

  “You will remain here until called for,” the girl informed her. She turned to walk away, but Shona called out to her.

  “Wait. What’s your name?”

  “I am Dani. You will have everything you need here. The doors are for your bathroom and dressing room. The third is for your wardrobe. It’s empty at the moment, but will be filled tomorrow. Try to get some sleep. Your situation is not as bad as it could have been. The master treats us well, as long as we follow the rules.”

  There was a lot Shona wanted to ask, but Dani seemed in a hurry to leave. Maybe there was somewhere she had to be and didn’t want to be late.

  “Where are my night clothes?”

  Dani blushed. “In Wayvern everyone sleeps naked.” With that she turned around once more and left the room. Shona heard the door lock once it was closed. She was a prisoner. Admittedly her prison was pleasant, probably more so than her rooms at her father’s estate, but she was still a prisoner.

  Not knowing what else to do, she undressed, folding her clothes and placing them on a chair which was by the window. The bedding was cool as she slipped between the sheets. She had been right; it was silk. Then the enormity of all that had happened to her came crashing down. Breathing became difficult and she let out a scream, just to clear her lungs. She curled up into the foetal position and began to cry. She was crying for herself, for her family, but most of all for those who she had left behind in the slave pens who were facing a future much worse than her own.

  Chapter 6

  Kwin was woken by someone slapping his face. “Kwin,” he heard Gareth’s voice say. “You need to wake up.”

  “I’m awake,” he said and opened his eyes, only to close them again when he was blinded by the sun. He held up his hand to shade his eyes, then opened them again. “Where are we?”

  “Slave pens. I have no idea where.”

  Gareth held out his hand and helped him to his feet. It was then that he noticed the silver bracelets attached to Gareth’s wrists and the collar around his neck and quickly looked down at his own arms. He, too, wore the bracelets. He ignored the fact that they were both naked.

  “These seem rather pointless,” he said, moving his hands to indicate what he was talking about.

  “That’s what I thought, but apparently they are very effective at keeping us under control. I haven’t seen for myself yet what they can do, but some here have and I have been warned not to try to do any magic. I wouldn’t like the consequences.”

  Kwin frowned. “How did whoever spoke to you know you can do magic?”

  Gareth held out his wrist, showing off one of his bracelets. “The colour. Silver means the wearer is a magic user, copper means they aren’t.”

  “So the enemy knows we can both do magic.” Gareth nodded his head. “Shit.” Kwin had been hoping to keep that bit of information a surprise until he needed to use his magical ability. “Any idea how?”

  Gareth shook his head. “Nope.”

  Kwin looked around him. He was in a pen, like the ones cattle were kept in on Gareth’s parent’s farm, with a few dozen men and women. None looked like soldiers. Some were crying. They must have been villagers, kidnapped in the last raid. Some wore silver bracelets and collars, but most had yet to be shackled.

  Armed guards surrounded the pen, though none were looking in. Kwin did a quick mental calculation and decided that there were too many for him and Gareth to defeat alone and he could not rely on help from any of the other prisoners. Escape would have to wait for a while.

  “Don’t let anyone know you can understand the local language,” Kwin mentally said to Gareth, who nodded. Being able to listen in on conversations might prove to be useful.

  Before he could say more, his attention was caught by a commotion at the other end of the pen. Guards were entering, accompanying a short man, dressed all in black, and a taller man, whose dark hair had been oiled back. The former was from Wayvern, but the latter was a Tippetian, though he didn’t appear to be a prisoner.

  Kwin watched as two of the guards grabbed hold of a
woman and pulled her to her feet. Then the man in black moved over to her, placing his hands near her, but not quite touching, and looked her all over.

  “Did you feel that?” Kwin whispered to Gareth.

  “Yes. The man in black’s using magic to examine her.”

  Then the man groped one of the woman’s breasts and Kwin had to grab hold of Gareth to prevent him moving forward. “Don’t interfere,” he hissed in his friend’s ear.

  They both watched in horror as the man placed his hand between the woman’s legs. Then he turned her around and did the same thing from behind. Apparently satisfied, he nodded his head and one of the guards put copper bracelets and a collar on her before moving her to a separate pen.

  The process was repeated on every man and woman present. “Do not resist,” Kwin said into Gareth’s mind as guards took hold of him.

  “I see you are a magic user,” the interpreter said. “I would not advise trying to prevent the doctor doing his job. He’s merely ascertaining your health.”

  “By molesting people?” Kwin asked.

  The man rolled his eyes. “He’s not molesting anyone. He’s a doctor. He’s just examining them.”

  Kwin grunted. “Just because he’s a doctor doesn’t make what he’s doing any less wrong.”

  Kwin wasn’t interested in what this traitor, as he viewed him, was saying, but he needed the distraction while Gareth was being examined. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Gareth smiling and the doctor frowning. He had no idea what his friend was doing, but it was annoying the Wayvern.

  All too soon it was his turn. He contemplated using his magic to counteract the doctor’s, but was unsure what his restraints would do. He remained passive as he felt himself being mentally probed. He closed his mind, blocking the doctor from gaining access.

  “These two both need a lesson in manners,” he heard the doctor say, but gave no indication that he understood the language.