In a tiny voice, she said, “Please, I have been very good. Not once have I been whipped. Agree not to hurt him, just this once.”
It figured. If she failed to get his promise, she would be beaten. He motioned toward his meager bed.
“Sit down.”
Quickly, she did so and began pulling off her few clothes. As she did, he went to the door and announced, “All right, whoever wants to talk, come in. I won’t hurt you.”
“You swear?” a male voice asked.
“I swear,” he sighed. He stepped back as the door opened. Two women preceded a short, dark-haired, goateed man in tailored leathers.
“Brave, aren’t you?” Tayan sneered.
The man shrugged. “I have been ordered not to hurt you. If it were otherwise, you’d be on the rack for all the men of mine you’ve killed. I am Duke Toma.”
“Who do you work for?”
Toma waved a hand to dismiss the subject. “You will see them soon enough. In the morning, I’m having you sent north to meet my Master.” Pausing, he regarded his prisoner for a moment then said, “Despite the fact we are enemies, I have respect for you, Lord Tayan. When you are taken away tomorrow I think you shall not live much longer.”
Brushing the women aside, Toma walked up to him. “I offer you one last night as a man. Give me your word you will not attempt to escape, and you will be able to join us in real food and drink. I am having dancers brought in--any you desire will be yours. You will also have better...accommodations.”
Tayan’s first impulse was to flatly refuse, but then he thought for a second. If he was allowed to roam, he could get an idea of where he was--and how to escape later.
“All I have to do is agree not to try and escape during your party?”
Toma grinned. “I note how you put that; but, yes, that is correct. Your guards will still accompany you, of course, but the dinner, drink and...whatever...are yours for the night.”
“Why are you doing this?”
“Unlike some of our associates, I follow old customs. You will not get such fair treatment in the north. I urge you to take advantage of it while you can.”
“So, you’re a man of honor.” Tayan snorted.
Toma straightened and glared back at him. “I am, indeed. You may think I am on the wrong side, if you like, but do not question my honor!”
“Is that why you have women guard me?”
Toma stabbed a finger at him. “That is exactly why. I would never kill a defenseless woman, and I know, as a man of honor, neither would you.”
Tayan saw he was telling the truth. He didn’t know whom this man was working for, but the duke wasn’t lying. He also might be able to wring some information out of him, if he was lucky. If he did escape, he needed to know what was going on here in Spring Valley.
“Very well, I accept your hospitality. I swear to you I will not attempt escape while I am in your presence. Does this satisfy you?”
“It does. I shall send servants to attend you.” Toma turned and strode out. The women left shoulder to shoulder so Tayan could not slip by them.
He thought he was alone until he turned back to the bed. There was the light-haired woman, lying naked with his blanket covering her to her waist. She smiled at him and extended her hand in invitation. He shook his head.
“Leave.”
In the next few hours, serving girls came in a stream. A pair of green-skinned Slavonic women had him sit in a reclined chair. These two washed his hair and shaved him while others showed him suits of clothes to pick from. Another slave trimmed his fingernails and toenails then had him strip to his drawers and gave him a sponge bath. They insisted on helping him into the crisp white shirt and black pants he had picked. He noted that the whole time female guards clogged the doorway, moving only to let others in or out. Roughly half of them were greenish Slavonic women. The Slavonic race was often called the slave people--no one had records or knowledge of any Slavonic tribe roaming free. They were a strange people, eager to please to the point of suicide, which made them very valuable in the slave market.
He talked to the women as they worked on him. Smiling pleasantly, he asked seeming pointless questions of where they came from and how they were being treated. The Slavonic women were eager to tell him about how close their quarters were to the kitchen and storerooms, and where those places were. He began to get a feel for how the castle was laid out.
Duke Toma arrived, dressed in a bright red shirt and blue pants. He seemed pleased with Tayan’s garb. Clearing the slave women out of the cell, he had them stay behind Tayan as they went to the dining room.
Tayan paid close attention to his surroundings as they walked down the hall. He noted every turn and every window, slowly mapping the place in his head. There was a balcony on his left just before they reached the stairs. Seeing this, he asked Toma if he could take a look outside.
Toma bowed slightly. “Of course. Perhaps you will see how fruitless an escape attempt will be.”
Stepping out onto the balcony, Tayan surveyed the scene before him. Below was the inner courtyard. It was an unusual shape--the curtain walls narrowed as they went away from the castle, meeting the wall with the main gate with about half their original width like a hemi-hexagon. In the center of the large courtyard was a square, flat-topped building with a pair of guards on the roof and another set at each corner that he could see. A huge, pedestal-mounted crossbow adorned the middle of the roof. Beside it he noted the outline of a trapdoor set into the roof. A lower outer defense wall surrounded the castle.
Looking at the battlements, he observed that in three places on the side walls and at each side of the gate the walks widened and held the same crossbows with man-sized spring arms. The last time he had seen crossbows that size was when King Alderlan’s caravan was attacked.
“Were you part of an ambush about halfway to Old Castle two years ago?” he asked Toma.
“If you mean the one on King Alderlan, no. I show more quarter than that. Once an enemy is beaten, it is pointless to keep slaughtering the survivors.”
The look on Toma’s face was grim. Tayan could see he detested what had happened.
“Then how can you side with those who do things like that?”
Toma sighed. “That is the price of doing business. One of my main sources of income is the slave trade. Governor Stazor has been trying to ban slavery, and very few in Capetown will trade with me. Their actions force my choice of allies.”
Tayan watched as a wagon leaving the courtyard was searched. Getting out was not going to be easy. Glancing at Toma, he mused aloud, “I often wonder how a man such as yourself would like having chains clapped on him.”
“I would not like it,” Toma admitted. “I am not in that position, however.”
Tayan looked him in the eye. “For any person to own another is wrong.”
Arching an eyebrow, Toma said, “Oh, really? When a man takes a wife, she is his. Should we outlaw marriage?”
“That is not the same, and you know it.”
“’Til death do us part is a very binding form of slavery, even though both parties agree. The Slavonic people live to serve; I know of none who do not belong to someone. They take pride in the fact that they serve well.”
“If that is all they know, how can they do otherwise?” Tayan countered.
Looking at him thoughtfully, Toma asked, “You think you can change someone who was born and bred to be a slave?”
Zodiac had two Slavonic women at his castle; and although they insisted on staying, Tayan knew they could leave whenever they wished.
“I don’t believe anyone wants to be a slave.”
Toma grinned. “Very well. Ellie, come here.”
A greenish girl with long jet-black hair rushed over to Toma from the cluster standing nearby and curtsied. “What is your desire, Master?”
“Ellie, you are no longer mine. I am giving you to Lord Tayan here. He is now your master.”
Ellie turned to Tayan and repeated
the bow. “What is your desire, Master?”
He had no intention of playing whatever game Toma had in mind. “I do not want one of your slaves.”
“Ellie is not mine. She is now yours to do with as you please.” Toma smirked.
“Get back with the others,” Tayan told her.
“As you wish, Master.” She sank down again and obeyed.
“Shall we go to dinner?” Toma asked, waving a hand at the door.
As they continued to the dining hall, Tayan saw a male servant come out from under the stairs with a sack of flour, which meant the storerooms were there. He now had a grasp of where the kitchen lay. Down one hall he noted guards coming out of a room buckling their armor. There was no way he was getting out through the main gate, and even the side gate was probably guarded. To slip away, he’d have to find the escape tunnel. Every castle had one--he just had to know where to look.
The dining hall was set up much differently that any other he had seen. What first got his attention was the seating arrangement. The center of the room, where he was used to seeing long tables and chairs, was empty. Instead, men sat near the wall, facing in. Small individual tables sat to their sides, as if to not get in the way. The only other entrance was a curtained arch across the room. By the multicolored curtain a tall, pale-haired woman watched them come in. Slaves moved about, filling cups and serving food.
Toma’s throne sat directly ahead of them and, like every other chair, faced the empty center of the room. A pair of Slavonic men in gray slave clothes knelt to each side awaiting the duke’s commands.
Tayan had his own chair and small table to Toma’s left. Their escort stood behind him except for one slave--Ellie knelt beside him, crouched on her heels. He had no more than sat down when a plate of roasted meat and fruit appeared beside him then a cup and pitcher of ale. He picked up the pitcher--and flinched as Ellie shot to her feet and grabbed it from him. Her face was stricken as she filled his cup.
“I am sorry, Master, I should have been quicker. Please forgive me.”
“There is nothing to forgive.”
She flashed him a forced smile. “Thank you, Master.”
He glanced at Toma, who was holding out his own cup for a slave to fill. Toma had told the girl she was his, but he didn’t want a slave. “Your name is Ellie, right?”
“Yes, Master.”
“Would you do something for me?”
“Yes, Master.”
“Stop calling me ‘master.’”
She frowned at him, tipping her head slightly. “I do not understand.”
“My name is Tayan, not 'master.'”
She gazed at him for a few seconds. “Yes, Tayan.”
He nodded. “That’s better.”
“May I get you anything else, Tayan?”
He shook his head, so she squatted back down on her heels at his side. Seeing this, he told her, “You can get a little more comfortable.”
She smiled at him. “Thank you, Tayan,” and she sat cross-legged. Even though she didn’t say “master,” he heard it in her voice. He was about to tell her he wasn’t her master when Toma’s voice boomed out.
“Bring on the dancers!”
Against the left wall, minstrels began playing flutes, drums and lyres at a frenzied pace. Across the room, the curtains were pulled aside and a line of scantily clad women spilled into the room dancing and twirling. As they formed a circle in their flowing gossamer costumes, Tayan scanned the watchers.
Most looked to be merchants, although a few wore mail shirts that told him they were warriors. The only weapons he saw were the thin, broad-headed spears of the guards bracketing the entrance the dancers had used. Such weapons were mostly for show. Pressed into combat, they would break easily. By the rate the guests were drinking and their hooting and hollering, any response from them would be slow, at best. Despite his promise, it was tempting to toss one of his female guards into Toma and make a break for the storerooms. Toma seemed to take pride in old traditions. Storerooms were in the lowest levels of the castle and had the best chance of having an emergency tunnel.
His eyes fell on Ellie as he pondered these things. Slaves, especially Slavonics, were not thought of in terms of what they knew. People like Toma paid as much attention to them as they did the furniture. Quietly, he asked, “Ellie, have you been down to the storerooms?”
“Yes...Tayan,” she replied, keeping his order in mind.
“Have you noticed any doors other than the one under the stairs?”
She nodded. “Yes, Tayan. There is a locked door that leads to the courtyard, for the wagons to use.”
“How about in the floor?”
She frowned at him. “A door in the floor? No, Tayan.”
“You don’t need to use my name every time you speak,” He sighed.
“Yes, Master.”
“Don’t call me master!”
Ellie’s mouth worked up and down as she stared at him. “I...am confused...”
“Just talk to me,” he coaxed.
Screwing her face up, she bit her lip. “I must show respect.”
“Then look at me when you talk to me.”
Shifting nervously, she dropped her eyes then looked back up at him as if she had no idea what to do.
A roaring laugh from Toma got their attention. Tayan glared at him as he waved his cup in their direction.
“Ellie!” he laughed, “Your master is new. As a new slave needs to be taught, so does a new master.”
Ellie glanced at him; then a smile came to her face as she looked at Tayan.
“I understand! You do not know how to be a master.”
“I am not your master,” he grated.
“Oh, yes, you are!” She nodded brightly. “I am yours. I will teach you--I am a very good slave.”
Tayan dropped his head and groaned.
“She is a very good slave.” Toma snickered.
Shooting him a glare of contempt, Tayan said, “I do not want a slave.”
Shrugging, Toma chuckled, “Well, you got one.” His grin faded to a more serious look. “Just remember to be merciful. Before anything...happens to you, you must pass her off to another; or she will be forced to accept the same fate that befalls you.”
“I refuse to give one person to another to be owned.”
“Then you condemn her to die with you.”
“She is not going to die.”
Toma raised an eyebrow. “Let’s hope not--a fine slave such as Ellie should not go to waste.”
Disgusted, Tayan turned to watch the dancers. He had no intention of really watching the women; he just didn’t want to look at Toma or Ellie, who was now on her knees trying to explain to him how a master should act.
One blond dancer, however, did get his attention. What drew his eye was the way she moved. Unlike the softer movements of the other, too-skinny women, her spins and swinging legs looked as if she were putting her whole body into the motion. She almost seemed to be fighting an unseen foe--even her face was set a little harder than the others. As he watched, he recognized what he knew as the block-spin-kick maneuver Odif had taught everyone in the company. She then danced low in the trip-set-stomp maneuver, followed by popping up and doing the slap-spin-elbow-heel stomp used against unarmed opponents. She threw her head back and made other, dance-type steps to soften the moves; but he saw them for what they were.
He focused on her body as she danced in her unusual fashion. Her legs flexed with tight muscles. She wasn’t starvation-thin like the rest but had a softer hourglass shape. She was also the only one with a generous bosom, held in with a wide, dark cloth. As he studied her face and the color of her free-flowing hair, he realized whom she looked like.
It couldn’t be! Amber was far too modest to dance virtually naked in front of a room full of men; and certainly she would not be dumb enough to come here, even if someone had brought her to Spring Valley.
The woman was scanning the room now as she danced towards him. Her eyes fell on him
for a second, locking with his before she danced away towards the middle of the room. In that brief time, he got a good look at her. Her features eerily resembled Amber’s--she even had the same eye color. Unlike Amber, however, the cheeks of her pretty face were completely smooth.
He breathed a sigh of relief. He had never seen anyone look so identical to another. Well, from the neck up, anyway.
He had no idea what Amber had under her loose robes. Watching the dancer more intently, he wondered if Amber had the same endowments as this woman. She was grace in motion and could be much more than one of Toma’s dancers if she chose to be. Despite himself, he began to enjoy her performance. Other women occasionally blocked his view, but he managed to follow her with his eyes.
The music began to wind down; and the dancers made one last circle then danced their way back through the curtains. He noticed the blonde give him one last glance before she disappeared, locking eyes with him briefly.
It wasn’t Amber, but he began to puzzle on her dance style. She knew every weaponless combat move the Company used. None of the other dancers performed anything like what she had been doing. She was either someone who had been to Longforest or was at one time part of the Company. He knew everyone who had been in the Company for the last fifty years. As he thought about it, he could only come to one conclusion.
Odif was the only woman bold enough to dance like that. Odif could also shift her shape however she pleased. In Newburg she had made herself look like him right down to the inflections in his voice. Somehow, she had found him. Why she chose to use Amber’s shape, he didn’t understand. It didn’t matter what she looked like, though; he knew she was not about to leave him here. He knew how she thought. The first dance she had spent marking him and the locations of guards and doors. When she came out for her next dance, all hell was going to break loose. Between the two of them, Toma wouldn’t know what hit him.
Sitting back, he started planning. Once she had caused enough havoc here, he’d lead her to the storerooms. Ellie said the doors were locked, but locked doors made of any material were not a problem now. Once outside, he would take care of any close-range threats while Odif used her druidic power to turn every creature and every element against Toma’s men. They could just walk right out the front gate.
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