Obsidian Tears

Home > Science > Obsidian Tears > Page 14
Obsidian Tears Page 14

by Jaleta Clegg


  "You're family, now," Clark said. "You can always learn. I'm sure Beryn will be glad to teach you."

  Jasyn said nothing for a long moment, twisting her mug in a ring of condensation on the table top. She finally stood with a heavy sigh. "Welcome aboard," she said, heading for the cockpit. "You think that cargo is still available? We've waited here long enough. She'll come to us, when she comes back."

  "We can have it loaded by late afternoon," Clark answered.

  Jasyn nodded and went into the cockpit, closing the door behind her.

  "Did I hear cargo mentioned?" Beryn asked as he came out of his cabin, yawning widely.

  "We're moving on," Clark said. "Meet your new apprentice. Darus Venn, this is Beryn Norris."

  Beryn raised one eyebrow at the name.

  "You sure Jasyn's ready to leave?" Beryn asked Clark as he rummaged in the galley.

  "Her idea. Dace will catch up to us, eventually."

  "If she comes back," Darus said heavily.

  "Jasyn said when, not if," Clark said. "There's always hope. At least where Dace is involved."

  "When, not if," Darus said to himself.

  "You ever done preflight?" Beryn asked as he sat at the table.

  Darus shook his head.

  "Then it's time you learned."

  Chapter 17

  "She is ready, des Tuarik."

  Their voices were meaningless. They weren't directed at me. I stayed on my knees in the corner, head bowed, a piece of furniture until given direct orders. Time had passed, I'd quit trying to keep track. It didn't matter. I lived and ate at Reashay's whim. She gave me clothes, simple sleeveless shifts, and took them away capriciously. I'd learned not to care. She'd beaten that lesson into me. I existed at the whim of my owner, whoever it might be.

  "You waited until the last moment, Reashay." The cold arrogant voice of the man who had ordered this for me. I didn't even shudder when he spoke. "The party is tonight. I have barely time."

  "She was difficult. I don't think you are wise in this decision."

  "You criticize my choice? I trust your work, Reashay. She appears docile enough."

  "Looks can be deceiving, des Tuarik."

  "You are telling me even you could not tame this one." He sounded smug.

  "She is tame," Reashay said quickly. "Now. But was it worth the effort?"

  "You've been well paid." He didn't sound amused. "It was high, even for you."

  "She was difficult, as I've said."

  I stared at the floor, fitted blocks of smoothed stone polished until they shone. I'd polished them, for hours and days, on my hands and knees with a scrap of rag. I'd worked until my hands bled and still Reashay insisted the floor was not clean.

  "Stand." Reashay tapped her whip on her leg.

  I scrambled to my feet. I still stared at the floor. I was not allowed to look at their faces.

  "She's too thin," Tuarik complained.

  "Part of the training. Fat slaves are dangerous slaves."

  "Come, then," Tuarik said.

  I dropped to my knees, as I'd been taught, and pressed my face to the floor. Tuarik didn't pay any attention. His feet moved out the door. Reashay tapped her whip.

  "Your master is leaving," she said.

  I was running, scrambling to catch up to Tuarik, before I could think.

  He shut me in the back of a transport, this one a sleek flyer, with boxes of other goods. I crouched among them. The door closed me into the small space.

  Whoever flew the flyer wasn't concerned about damage to the cargo. Or me. I braced myself the best I could. The flyer swooped and curved. And then settled into flight. The air was thin, we must have been high up. I curled up, shivering in the thin shift, tucked between boxes. The vibrations of the engine lulled me to sleep.

  I woke some time later when the boxes tumbled over me. I pushed them aside and sat. We were descending, dropping rapidly. The flyer slowed with a lift that bounced me off the floor and then settled. The door opened. I blinked in sudden late afternoon light.

  "Out."

  I climbed out, ignoring the shaking and cramps from being shut in such a small place for so long. Tuarik didn't give me time to kneel. He was already moving away. He stopped impatiently near a door.

  "Come, now," he ordered.

  I hurried across the landing pad to him, my bare feet soundless. He waited only long enough to be sure I followed.

  He shoved the door open and strode into the building. I hurried after him, half running just to stay on his heels. I kept my eyes down. I saw a lot of stone flooring and small rugs, spots of soft color scattered randomly in the long hall.

  He turned corners, walking as if he owned the building. I trotted obediently after him. He slowed and opened another door. I followed him into the room.

  "There," he said, and pointed to a corner.

  I went. I dropped to my knees, sitting still as Reashay had beaten me into doing. I stared at the fringe of a rug just in front of me. And waited.

  Tuarik settled in a chair, I heard it creak.

  "Send my daughter to me," I heard him say.

  I dared to glance quickly around after a stretch of silence. I kept my head bowed, though. Tuarik was seated behind a massive table of some sort. He was working on something, I couldn't see what, he looked completely absorbed in it. The rest of the room was richly furnished. Polished wood gleamed darkly on the walls. The floor was stone and covered by the thick rug, except on the edges. I shifted, easing a bruise on my knee. I was on the stone, cold and hard and unforgiving.

  The furniture in the room was heavy wood, hard chairs and tables. I didn't see books or any evidence of technology.

  The door to the room opened. I ducked my head again.

  "You sent for me?" It was a feminine voice, delicate and light.

  I watched a pair of dainty feet wrapped in thin slippers cross the thick rug. Fabric of gossamer thinness floated around the ankles. I didn't dare look higher.

  "I have a present for you, for your birthday," Tuarik said.

  "You already gave me this." I watched her feet twirl her around.

  "It is my duty to see you suitably clothed." Wood scraped on stone as he stood. "No, I found you something unique."

  I watched his feet approach me. And hers.

  "A slave?" She didn't sound pleased.

  "Not just any slave, Lia, a pet for you. To keep you amused. It amuses me to give her to you." His foot twitched my direction. "Stand," he ordered.

  I stood, keeping my head down.

  She gasped in surprise. "She's even shorter than I am, how droll."

  "She's fully mature," Tuarik said. "I've been assured she won't get any taller. She's short, even for one of their kind. Now you have someone even you can look down on."

  "I can't find words to express my feelings, father." I wondered if he heard the bite in her voice. It was well hidden.

  "Happy birthday." He moved back away.

  She touched my chin, lifting my face with one slim finger. I kept my eyes down. She wore a gown of thin layers that danced and lifted with every movement. Delicate embroidery traced designs across it in barely seen shadows. The dress would have cost a fortune. I squashed the thought. I couldn't afford thoughts of before. As Reashay had so painfully taught me, I had no past.

  "Does she have a name?"

  "Whatever you wish to call her." Tuarik sounded a bit distracted.

  "Then I'll call her Pooki, the small one." I heard the veiled irony in her voice. "Come, Pooki," she said, dropping my chin. She turned away.

  I followed her, slipping silently behind as she left the room.

  She danced almost more than walked through the halls. The house was enormous, a sprawling complex of stone floors and fanciful walls and windows. I didn't see any stairs. I was concentrating too hard on keeping up with her to spare attention for the rooms we passed. I got the impression of dark, heavy elegance. Everything I saw was so expensive it didn't need to advertise.

  She st
opped finally at a pair of heavily carved wooden doors. They opened silently at her slight touch. She swept through, her dress dancing on the breeze of her passing. I followed her in. The door swung shut on my heels.

  "You'll never guess what he gave me, Mayguena," my mistress said. She walked through the rooms quickly, not stopping to look. It would have been so familiar to her that she didn't notice. I couldn't help but notice.

  The room was light, pale greens and peaches and just a touch of bright yellow. There were soft looking couches and giant pillows and shelves that might have held the equivalent of books, thin cases of some glittery material. A large contraption stood in one corner with what looked like half made fabric looped in the center. It was incredible, a thick weave of yarn that still captured an intricate pattern of flowers and light. The whole corner was filled with shelves and racks of threads and yarns.

  My mistress had already disappeared through a far archway. There were two in the room. The one straight ahead was closed, a glass panel giving a glimpse of an intricate indoor garden. The other arch led off to the left. I hurried that direction.

  The room was obviously her bedroom. A wide platform covered with a fluffy coverlet and scattered pillows dominated the room. Doors I guessed led to closets lined one wall. The furniture here was not heavy and dark, it was pale cream and gold and floated in apparent defiance of gravity. Curved legs, slender and delicate, held seats and flat surfaces. The colors were more pink and lavender with still a touch of yellow. Flowers drifted from holders on the walls. Their scent filled the room with sweetness.

  "What gift did he give you this time?" Another voice.

  I recalled my manners. My mistress had stopped, leaving a fluttering scarf over a floating chair. I dropped to my knees and pressed my face on the polished wood floor. I heard footsteps whisper over the floor closer to me.

  "A slave?"

  "Not just any slave, this one is a female of that new species."

  "I thought all females were sent to the breeding pens. They appear to be quite rare."

  "Not this one. I'm sure Father pulled strings. He gave her to me because she's shorter than me." She nudged me with one slipper. "Stand up, Pooki."

  I stood, still looking down at my feet. They were brown with dirt. My nails were ragged.

  "She needs a good bath," the other woman said with a sniff. She sounded older than my mistress. She came closer. "Look at me. Tell me your name."

  I stared at the floor. It was forbidden to look, it showed arrogance. It showed disobedience. That brought pain.

  "I said look at me," she said more forcefully.

  I dropped back to my knees. This was a test of some sort.

  "Why will you not look at me?"

  "Perhaps she is mute," my mistress suggested as if she didn't really care.

  "It is forbidden," I said. I ducked my head.

  She leaned over me, I felt the whisper of her sleeve as she shifted the strap of my shift to the side. She looked at my back for a long moment. I stayed still, shivering.

  "Reashay's work," the woman said disdainfully. "She will be little good to us."

  "She can still sort yarn, at least I hope so."

  "She needs cleaned up first. Look at the condition of her hands." The woman nudged me with her foot. "Up, Pooki. At least Lia named you well. Small one indeed."

  I stood.

  "This way," she said. "We'll find duties for you."

  I followed her back to another archway that opened into a huge bathroom. The sinks were wide enough to sit in comfortably. The fixtures were of a delicate material that looked like spun glass. Water flowed smoothly at the touch of a button. The tub was set back, against the far wall. It had its own alcove full of plants and flowers. Tiny lights sparkled in the translucent material. The woman pushed open another door. The toilet was inside, as luxurious as everything else.

  "I assume Reashay made certain you knew how to use it?" The woman watched me as I peered into the room. At her words I dropped to my knees again. "That is not necessary in here, in these rooms."

  I'd offended her. I didn't know what I was supposed to do. I pressed my face to floor. The stone was warm. "I am sorry," I whispered.

  "Stand up," she said sharply.

  I stood, uncertain and awkward.

  "You do not need to abase yourself while you are here, in these rooms."

  "Yes, des Shira," I said and ducked my head.

  "I suppose that will do," she said. "You will remove that shift and wash yourself in the sink. Completely. Do you understand?"

  "Yes, des Shira," I answered.

  "I will find you something suitable to wear." She crossed back to the sink. "There is soap here. You may use this," she place a cloth on the counter next to the sink, "to dry yourself when you finish. You will not leave this room until I come for you."

  I started to kneel, to show I understood. She sighed deeply. I stood back up. She left without saying more.

  I touched the faucet. Water poured out. I pulled off the shift. There was a wide mirror on the wall above the sink. I stared at myself. I was much too thin. The haunted look was back in my eyes. I deliberately dropped my gaze down to the water flowing from the faucet. I ignored the mirror. I didn't want to see the scars from Reashay's whip. I didn't want to see how badly my ribs stuck out.

  The soap was creamy and smelled of herbs. I used it liberally. Reashay had hosed me off in an outside courtyard when she decided I needed cleaned. Her floors were cleaner than I was. I used a corner of the cloth to scrub my legs and feet. Short of climbing into the huge tub, I wasn't sure how to get the rest clean. I did my best.

  The older woman came back after a few moments. She clucked her tongue over my back and smeared a paste over the worst of the hurts. She handed me another short shift, this one pale peach. The fabric was softer and finer. I pulled it on. She took my hands and studied my ragged nails and the calluses on my palms. Not all of them were from scrubbing Reashay's floors. She eyed me speculatively. I looked at the floor. I had no past. I mentally retreated as far as I could and still function.

  "You will scrub more," she instructed, "until all the dirt is gone. Use this," she placed a thin stick on the counter. "Rub to smooth any jagged edges. Use this on your hair." She put a brush next to the stick. "You will keep them here." She crossed the room to a corner cupboard and opened the bottom drawer. "You will not use anything else you find in this room unless we give you permission. Do you understand?"

  Habit won. I dropped to my knees and pressed my forehead to the warm floor. Reashay had beaten me until the habit of grabbing a weapon from under my pillow was replaced by kneeling and submitting to anything she chose to dish out. Reward or punishment, it didn't matter.

  Mayguena left the room, her feet slapping against the floor. She was frustrated with me. I was tempted to curl up and cry. That might lead to another beating. I made myself get up and do as she had instructed.

  She gave me a bed to sleep on, a flat cushion and a thin blanket in the corner of the bedroom. She made it clear that I was not responsible for cleaning, unless instructed. I was to be des Lilliasa's pet. I was not to leave her side unless she instructed otherwise. I was fed in my corner. Food was delivered through a slot in the wall. It was bland and very plain, but I was informed it was optimal for my nourishment.

  Lilliasa complained loud and long about her father while she readied herself for her birthday party that night. I guessed the other woman, Mayguena, was something like a chaperone and maid to her. There was a lot about their culture they didn't bother to explain. I didn't dare ask. I was only their pet, an animal to keep them entertained, nothing more.

  When no beatings happened by the time the sunlight began to fade, I began to relax slightly. My curiosity stirred, but I was still a slave. I crushed it before it got me into more trouble. Every time I swallowed or moved my head I was reminded of just what I was. The collar was there, not uncomfortable, but still a very strong reminder of the power they held over me. Reash
ay had used the collar against me several times. I had no desire to ever repeat that experience. The pain was intense, barely below the threshold that would have let me pass out. Whatever collars had been used on Vallius were poor imitations of these, weak in comparison. So far, my new mistress and her companion had not shown any inclination to use it. I would have to be careful not to give them reason to want to.

  Lilliasa insisted I accompany her to her dinner. To show me off, she said.

  Mayguena accompanied her. She watched me closely, her eyes suspicious.

  I walked in Lilliasa's shadow through the halls. She entered a huge room full of people. The floor was an intricate tile mosaic, deep jewel colors sparkled under polish. I would have appreciated it more under other circumstances. I risked one quick glance up. The ceiling soared upwards. Stained glass windows covered most of it, set between wide beams that made geometric frames for the windows. The pictures were incredible. The walls were almost as grand. They were richly textured and colored. Wide doors lined one wall, leading out to a fairyland of colored lights and water. Music tinkled, a strange breathy sound that reminded me of distant bells and wind. Lilliasa walked into the room, greeting people with a bright smile. Mayguena stayed at her back, with me by her side. I kept my eyes down. I couldn't look at the people. They were all much taller than Lilliasa. They towered over me. Mayguena was short and she was a full head taller than me.

  We crossed to a wide table set with fantastic sculptures of crystal and dishes of exotic food. Lilliasa stopped to talk with a tall man wearing a shimmering outfit of deep green. Brown trim glittered and flowed along the edges like liquid. He smiled indulgently at Lilliasa. He turned his attention to the gathered crowd. They quieted, watching him.

  "Welcome," he said. "Thank you for coming to celebrate my daughter's birthday. As you can see, she's making me appear old. All grown up, twenty three tonight."

  There was a cheer. Mayguena nudged me forward.

  "And from our latest venture, we have brought new workers. And a few interesting specimens, such as this one. I've given her to my daughter as a token of my esteem."

 

‹ Prev