Green, Sharon - Mind Guest.htm

by Mind Guest

  release catch in a lock mechanism, but with enough practice you can

  feel it. If I hadn't been working left-handed I would have felt the

  twang sooner, but having my right hand free first would speed things up

  more after the first cuff was open than working left-handed slowed them

  down before that. I caught the twang, lost it, then found it again and

  held it-and the cuff flipped open at my pull. Only then did I remember

  that light-shirt had used his key to lock me up again as well as

  release me, which meant that the mechanism was a variety of dead-bolt.

  Things might have gone faster if I'd remembered that sooner, but there

  was no sense in beating my breast over it. There were still the other

  locks to take care of.

  Both ankle cuffs went first, and only then did I do the left wrist

  cuff. After that the only thing left was the chain around my waist, and

  when I dumped the whole rig in a heap I unknotted the thin piece of

  leather as well and flung it away from me as hard as I could. The

  feeling of freedom was like laughter bubbling up inside me, making me

  want to shout and jump around; instead of shouting or jumping I bent

  and retrieved the lock pick I'd dropped, then spent a minute or two

  tying it into my hair where it wouldn't be seen. I would keep it until I was off that planet, and maybe even longer. A good lock pick is hard

  to find, a lucky one even harder.

  A quick look around the tent room showed me nothing I could use, not

  even a piece of cloth for clothing. Aside from the cool of the night

  the thought of walking around bare didn't bother me, but it would make

  me somewhat conspicuous. I'd intended going after one of those guards

  for his sword, but now it looked like I'd need his clothes, too. It

  would take more time than I really wanted to spend, but there was no

  help for it. I couldn't run around the woods of Narella bare, not when

  there was no telling when that scout ship would pick me -

  "What haye you done, slave?" came the demanding voice from behind me,

  causing me to turn my head in that direction. My golden-shirt stood

  there, something that looked like a thin, rattan cane in his hand, a

  frown of disbelief on his face. Bellna shivered in fear in the corner

  she crouched in, but all I did was smile faintly. I'd done a stupid

  thing not leaving that room as soon as the chains were off, but I knew

  I'd done it deliberately. I'd been hoping to run into my golden-shirt

  again-and now I had.

  "You mistake me, man," I said as I stepped farther into the center of

  the room. "I am no slave, and therefore did as I wished to do."

  "You believe you are no longer a slave due to someone's having taken

  the chains from you?" he asked, that superior amusement clear on his

  face. "The absence of chains does not make one free. Kneel!"

  The snap of command in his voice made Bellna blubbet in my head and try

  to obey, but I was riding a high too far above her to feel the same

  myself. Revenge is usually a pastime for the immature, but that slob

  had done more than just put his hands on me. You have to be a damned

  fool or suicidal to treat a Special Agent the way he had treated me,

  and I was in no mood to be forgiving or generous.

  "You are correct in believing that the absence of chains does not make

  one free," I agreed, enjoying the frown he'd grown when I didn't fall

  quivering to my knees. "I am prepared to leave this place now, and will

  give you the opportunity to step out of my way."

  "Will you indeed," he said, the superiority back again. "How very

  thoughtful of a slave to give her master such an opportunity. The

  master, however, does not choose to accept the generosity of his slave.

  He will, instead, choose to give his slave a sounder whipping than she

  was to have received. The choice is ever the master's, a thing you will

  now learn beyond all doubt."

  He took a firmer grip on the cane he held and started toward me, his

  arm half raised and ready to strike. He took his time coming forward,

  giving me the chance to understand just how bad a mistake I'd made

  before getting on with the beating. There was faint disturbance in his

  eyes over the fact that I just stood there waiting for him, but I doubt

  whether he was capable of understanding that I didn't intend allowing

  myself to be beaten. Being very used to dealing with slaves is more

  dangerous than slavers seem to realize; it makes prime victims of them

  if they happen to tangle with a non-slave.

  The golden-shirt reached me and raised his arm higher, then brought the

  cane whistling down toward my bare body. It would have struck my

  shoulder if I'd stayed where I was, but I stepped forward instead and

  brought up a left-handed block against his forearm. Most people think

  of blocks as being strictly defensive maneuvers - that is, if they've

  never had one used on them. The force of the block knocked the cane out

  of my opponent's hand; as it hit I was already going to one knee and

  launching a right from belt level directly into his groin, then moving

  fast to get out of the way. It wasn't retaliation I was expecting but reaction, and that came so fast it might have been programmed. The

  blood left golden shirt's face, and even as he began folding up he was

  already vomiting, spasming out the terrible pain he felt. I

  straightened up beside him, stiffened my right hand, then clipped him

  good at the base of the skull, sending him sprawling into the pool of

  vomit he'd made. I took a split second to consider whether or not to

  finish him permanently, then turned away and headed for the room exit

  when I decided against it. It would be a long time before the man was

  able to function again, not to mention chasing after me. If I wasn't

  gone out of there before then, his being up and around would not make

  the difference.

  I slid out into the empty corridor between rooms and moved without

  sound, checking each room before I passed it. Muffled sounds came from

  a room down at the far end, but aside from that everything was quiet. A

  couple of the rooms held sleeping female forms, but the rest were

  empty. I became aware of Bellna as I moved down the corridor, and I had

  to chuckle softly. The intruder in my mind was still in shock, trying

  to figure out what had happened. She had been so terribly afraid of the

  golden-shirt that she would have done anything to appease him, but

  three simple blows had taken him out of the picture more effectively

  than Fallan's fistfight had done with the house guard at the inn. She

  knew nothing about self defense and offense, considering the entire

  area reserved to those with big, bulging muscles or superior weapons.

  She couldn't get over the fact that she had done something like that,

  and so simply. She was beginning to think of that store of extra

  knowledge as magic, the store she couldn't always reach; I thought

  about all the hard work I'd put in acquiring it, but chuckled anyway.

  It was magic to someone who didn't know about it, and the hard work

  part of it just didn't enter into it.

  When I reached the end of the corridor, I found that the muffled sounds

/>   were screams that were coming from the room opposite the one that led

  out of that section of tents. The room out was dim and deserted, and no

  one would have seen me go that way; all I had to do was step into the

  room and cross it, then melt into the darkness outside. There had to be

  armed guards moving around out there, and jumping one from behind would

  be a piece of cake. I didn't know what was causing those muffled

  screams across the way, and in any event it was none of my business.

  Getting out of there was my business, that and dressing and arming

  myself, and heading off south into the woods. I took a step into the

  room, and then a second and then turned and ghosted fast across the

  corridor.

  From right outside the flap separating the corridor from the room I

  could hear sounds other than the muffled screaming; grunting and heavy

  breathing came through, as well as a faint creaking. I moved the flap

  over a very little bit and slipped inside, but I could have made

  considerably more noise and still wouldn't have been noticed. A female

  slave with scraps of green on her was chained to a wooden contraption

  that bent her backward and spread her wide, an open invitation without

  need of a sign. A thick length of yellow cloth blindfolded her, and a

  fat wad of yellow cloth was stuffed in her mouth, gagging her

  effectively yet allowing those muffled screams to escape. The darkgoldshirted

  guard stood with his sword on the floor beside him and his

  pants down around his knees, bracing himself with one hand on the

  wooden frame while he thrust down at the chained woman with his body,

  ramming her deep and increasing the sound of her muffled screams. His

  other hand was closed painfully tight on one of her breasts, and as I

  dropped the door flap he grunted one last time with attained release. "You provided a barely adequate ride, slave," he muttered, resting a

  minute against the woman's body. "It matters not how many were before

  me; the ride should have been fully satisfying. Though you were placed

  here due to your lacks in pleasing your masters, you have apparently

  learned nothing. It seems I must recommend that you be kept here

  another day, so that the lesson might be effective. Your pain is of no

  consequence whatsoever; your master's pleasure is all. As I have

  received little pleasure, you will also be beaten. Though there is

  little likelihood of your attaining perfection, the beating will assist

  you in approaching it more closely."

  The guard withdrew from the woman then, not giving a damn that she was

  now crying behind her blindfold and gag. He turned half away from her

  and reached down for his pants, saw me standing there, and straightened

  with a frown.

  "What do you do in here, slave?" he demanded, then narrowed his eyes.

  "Who has removed the chains from you without ordering you to remain

  where you were? Or for what reason have they ordered you here?"

  He really didn't understand what was going on, and the provocative

  smile I gave him didn't help any. I began moving toward him in a slow,

  deliberately sexy way, my hips swinging and my breasts thrust out, and

  the confusion on his face suddenly became a leer.

  "You have been sent to give me a proper ride!" he said in a pouncing

  tone, sure he'd solved the mystery. "I know not which of my brothers

  sees so carefully to my needs, yet I shall learn his identity from you

  and give him proper thanks. You will first reawaken me, and then will I

  make full use of you. The gods themselves would condemn me, were I to

  do less."

  From the way his eyes moved over me, I was surprised he wasn't standing

  in slobber clear up to his neck. Bellna felt a sharp stab of desire

  when he used the words "full use," and her passing it on to me nearly

  threw my timing off. I'd been waiting for him to bend toward his pants

  again, if only in order to get them out of the way so he could close

  the gap between us faster, but he started to bend while my muscles were

  still tightening in protest. It was pure luck that he kept his head up

  to watch me as he bent, and I couldn't afford to throw that luck away.

  Despite the throbbing in my loins I forced myself to run three steps

  and then jump- kick for power, the ball of my right foot striking the

  son just under his chin. His head snapped back even harder than his

  body did, the crack coming before he slammed into the wooden

  contraption the woman was chained to. He bounced off, fell to the

  floor, then lay there in a very still, angular way.

  I moved up to him fast and bent to check for a pulse, but that was just

  part of my habit of always making sure. I knew I'd broken his neck with

  the kick, and he hadn't survived as a fluke in spite of it. The woman

  on the frame was stirring in her chains and making babbling noises

  around her gag, but I'd done all I could for her. The guard would never

  make another sadistic recommendation, and leaving her chained up would

  guarantee that she would not be blamed for his death. If freeing her

  had meant that she would escape to freedom I would have taken the time

  to unchain her, but despite all wishful thinking it would have meant

  nothing of the kind. She wouldn't have been able to get herself away

  and I couldn't take her with me, but all the same I kept my eyes away

  from her as I worked the dead guard free of his clothes.

  I kept expecting to be interrupted, but I got the shirt and pants on

  and buckled on the swordbelt, and no one came in. The clothes fit as

  well as a man's clothes will fit on a woman just about his size, but

  the boots had proved impossible. They were much too big to be of use, and would have been more of a hazard than going bare-foot would be. I

  resettled the swordbelt around my hips, took one last glance around the

  room, and then walked out. Usual good-byes are fatuous; in that

  instance they would have been insane.

  The corridor and exit room were still both empty, but I didn't

  understand why until I'd moved through the dark toward the main

  exhibition tent. The noise coming from that tent and two others of a

  similar size near it was incredible in the midst of the forest quiet,

  speaking of crowds much larger than those that had been present while I

  was on a platform. I still made sure to move silently through the

  chilly darkness, staying out of the wide pools of light thrown by the

  big, flickering torches set all around the three main tents. Armed

  guards moved around and through the streams of people going in and out

  of the tents, watching, directing, and generally being very visible.

  The slavers had a booming business going, larger than one princedom

  could account for. It was a safe bet that people were coming from all

  over, making however long a trip was necessary to check out what was

  being offered. As I stood behind a tree watching, one round-bellied man

  with three burly assistants took possession of a group of eight slave

  females and two slave males, his brusque, businesslike manner showing

  that he was probably replenishing his own stock. The retailer buying

  from the wholesaler, so to speak, calculating his futu
re profit even as

  his merchandise was growled and prodded into motion. When I discovered

  that my left hand gripped so tightly the hilt of the sword I wore that

  my fingernails were digging into my palm, I knew it was time to get

  moving-before I did something stupid. You can't change a world all by

  yourself, no matter how much you'd like to give it a whirl.

  I faded back from the tree and moved around some tall bushes, heading

  toward the outlying tents of the widespread camp, trying to be careful

  of where I stepped. Small twigs and branches had already gotten me a

  couple of times, making me decide to keep alert for any vair that might

  have been left standing around. Traveling by vair-back would be faster

  and easier than going on foot, especially on bare foot. Being free and

  on the move felt good, despite the direction the Bellna presence's

  thoughts had taken. The first sight of the display tent had brought

  back memory of Fallan to her, and the little girl in my head was trying

  to decide how she felt about him. It wasn't that she no longer had the

  raging hots for him; what he'd done to me in the display tent had, if

  anything, intensified her feelings. What bothered her was the fact that

  Fallan had chosen the black-haired girl instead of me to use, the idea

  sending jealous, flaring anger through my head. She chewed at the

  thought for a couple of minutes, spoiled-brat resentment boiling

  around, and then she remembered that light-shirt hadn't let Fallan use

  me. The interpretation wasn't strictly true, but Bellna wasn't looking

  for truth, only a reason to forgive Fallan. When she found one she

  began humming happily to herself, more than ready to fantasize about

  what it would have been like with Fallan if light-shirt hadn't

  interfered. I ignored the fantasizing and paid attention to where I was

  going, looking for something speedier to ride than the dashing Captain

  Fallan.

  There were considerably fewer people around the outskirts of the camp,

  but most of them were guards and armed. The breeze tossed the flames of

  their torches around, but the illuminati6n did nothing to pinpoint the

  guards without torches of their own. I could see their darker shadows

  moving around and looking as though they were keeping a sharp eye open,

  but I couldn't tell how many of them there were. I'd have to get