by Ian Rodgers
“I guess that is kind of cool,” Dora said slowly, unsure. The bound woman spun around to face the half-orc. Or tried to, as she wasn’t completely facing Dora.
“You don’t understand how important that is!” Kari hissed as Dora shuffled to stand closer. “No two souls are the same! If your soul smells similar to someone else’s, it means it was someone related to you, or they had similar magic, or a kind of divine blessing.”
“To the golden mole, your soul is close enough to its savior’s that it trusts you to this degree. The odds of such a thing are very high. Close to one in seven million! Maybe a billion!”
“Alright, now it’s starting to sound weird,” Dora admitted.
The two of them just stood there for a bit, deep in thought.
“Let’s go see if Rindel needs some help with dinner. And if we’re lucky we’ll get some freebies!”
.
As the night settled down across the Lake of Tears Dora shivered a bit and drew a jacket closer around her. The temperature had fallen quickly, and with the water nearby it was chillier than she’d ever experienced in the Cracked Land so far.
Kari seemed completely fine, sitting nonchalantly on her cot as Dora paced around the tent. But that was expected, the half-orc mused. The Crawling Coast was essentially a long stretch of beach all along the edge of Orria, so the dark-haired captive was probably used to these sorts of cool evenings.
“Is there any reason you are clomping around like a testy bull?” Kari asked. She folded her arms in defiance as Dora shot her a look of annoyance.
“No. Yes. Maybe.”
“Is it because of what I told you earlier?”
“Sort of,” Dora admitted. “I kind of want to, well, uh…”
“You want me to Appraise you,” Kari finished, divining her handler’s desire. Dora nodded rapidly. “Then why don’t you just ask?”
“Because I’m worried,” Dora claimed, sitting down on her own cot with a sigh. “What if you see something strange? What if, when you look at me, you find out that I’m really a horrible person?”
“Are you?”
“No! But, sometimes I wonder. I’m a slaver. I treat people like cattle, and try not to think about that. What if my soul is stained?” Dora trembled slightly, this time not due to the cold.
“I haven’t prayed to Cynthia properly in years because I’m afraid she might not answer me because of what I’ve done.”
“I highly doubt I will see any such stains on your soul,” Kari said with a snort of disbelief. Dora turned to her with an argument on her lips, but stopped when the dark-haired beauty cut her off by raising her covered hands in front of the Healer’s face.
“True, I’ve been forced to do whatever you say, and the collar doesn’t help me form a good opinion, but in the five days I’ve spent with you I have not heard anything to make me consider you a truly bad person. If anything, you’re stronger than I could be, having been thrust into such trying circumstances.”
Kari shook her head. “I promise that if I see any sort of taint on you, I’ll let you know what it is.”
Dora let out a laugh. “That shouldn’t make me feel better, but strangely, it does.”
She bent down and lifted the edge of the blood colored cloth from her prisoner’s right eye, giving her the first true glimpse of Kari’s face.
Purple with an iris of bronze. That was the eye that Dora saw. She leaned in closer, entranced, and could swear that there might have been flecks of gold dancing around inside.
Dora’s appreciation was put on hold when she spotted a tear trickle down Kari’s cheek. The Healer recoiled in worry, and saw that the collared woman’s face had an appearance of rapturous awe and shock.
“What do you see?” Dora demanded. Her inquiry snapped Kari out of her trance and she reached up, sealing off her eye of her own volition.
“Sorry, sometimes my eyes tear up whenever I use my Bloodline Trait,” Kari said with a shaky laugh.
“Really?” Dora asked. The raven-haired young woman nodded.
“Really. You can even force me to tell the truth with the collar. But if you must know, there’s nothing wrong with your soul at all. A surprising amount of mana, but nothing out of the ordinary.”
“Why did you look so shocked, then?”
“I was just stunned to find out we’re about the same age. I thought you were much older, like in your late twenties.”
“What?!” Dora screeched. “I look nothing like that! I’m seventeen, damn it! Seventeen! I’m not old! If anything, you’re the old woman here!”
“I’m only nineteen,” Kari said proudly, flickering her long, beautiful hair over her shoulder.
“Damn it,” Dora growled, a flash of jealousy sparking inside her at that. Some women got all the good luck, didn’t they?
As Dora glared at Kari’s body, the slave in question threw a pillow at the half-orc’s face.
“Stop looking at me so intently! I might blush!”
“Grrr!” The Healer launched her own retaliatory pillow at the woman, barking out a laugh as the soft projectile knocked her over. She scrambled back up, sitting on her knees and giving the impression she too was glaring back.
The women stared at each other for a moment before descending into peals of laugher. Tears of humor trickled down their cheeks, though in Kari’s case the blindfold soaked them up while somehow staying dry.
“Ah, I needed that,” Dora chuckled as her mirth died down. She looked at the dark-haired slave.
“So, there’s seriously nothing wrong with me?”
“Nope. You’re clean as a whistle. Metaphorically speaking,” Kari assured. Dora bobbed her head happily before getting up from the cot and preparing for bed, humming a happy tune.
Left to her own devices, Kari glanced down at her lap and frowned, trying to understand all the bizarre information she had gleaned from the half-orc Healer.
In the end, she shook her head with a sigh and decided to settle down for the evening as well. She had plenty of time to figure out the mystery that was her handler.
Chapter 8: Life is the only currency
Leaving the Lake of Tears behind them, the caravan’s route began to lead them west towards their final destination. Most of the Yellowmoon Menagerie’s crew grew nervous as they neared the City of Slaves. Kari and the other merchandise were no different. If anything, their fear was more palpable. The traders could at least leave Annod Bol in the end. They wouldn’t. At least, not without chains still on them.
The mood was getting to Dora as well, causing her to stare morosely out at the landscape as she rode her trusty steed Starspot, Kari planted in the saddle in front of her.
But it was this intense staring that let the half-orc spot something completely out of place in the dreadful wastelands.
Green. Two days from the Lake of Tears and a day or so from Annod Bol the ground started to produce a thin layer of scraggly blades of grass and tiny fields of crops. Sickly trees stood here and there, some of them producing leaves and fruit while bushes dotted the side of the road.
And indeed, there was a road now. A cracked, badly made cobblestone one, but a road nonetheless. More and more wagons, horses, and travelers were around them, all heading in the same direction as the Menagerie.
There were also people living here as well, clad in poorly made clothes and tending the small patches of life. Most of them were collared, proving to Dora these farmers were enslaved.
“What is this? What’s with all the greenery?” Dora called out. Instead of Rindel answering her question, a deeper voice boomed out.
“Annod Bol is a city. And cities need more food than just a few scraps of dried meat and preserved grains. As such, much of the land around it was painstakingly converted into arable farmland.”
“That must have taken forever,” Dora whistled at Scarrot’s comment, and the peg legged orc nodded.
“Indeed, it did. Since it was settled a few centuries back the Tower Lords have been trying to
make it habitable. Even now it still has to import most of its food, but still manages to produce a decent amount. This is where a lot of the water from the Lake ends up once it’s purified.”
The battered and bitter old orc rode back to Holt, probably to give out instructions. Dora paid her boss no mind, content to enjoy the sights and smells of plant life for the first time in two years.
“You’re acting odd. And quit sniffing so loudly, your breath feels weird on my neck,” Kari complained, squirming in discomfort.
“Ah, sorry about that,” Dora said. “It’s been awhile since I’ve seen so much growth. Even if it is scraggly and dust covered. Back home at Far Reach all we grew was wheat and barley and turnips, but it’s still nice to be reminded of it.”
“I’ve never heard of that town. Where is it?”
“Not surprising. Far Reach is a small community of farmers down in the very southernmost tip of the Partaevian Empire. It’s rather close to Saluda and the Cracked Land.”
Kari winced as Dora mentioned her old homeland. “You must have been very lucky. I hear they kill all half-humans up in Partaevia.”
“That’s not entirely true,” Dora said slowly. “Non-humans are turned away at the gates pf larger towns and the cities unless they belong to diplomatic parties, and half-humans like myself tend to be abandoned. Maybe in some places they might do such abhorrent things, but Far Reach was distant enough to be ignored by most of the bigotry.”
The merchant’s daughter nodded. “I suppose that makes sense. What about your parents? What was growing up like?”
Dora frowned as she recalled her home life. Sweet memories of her mother clashed with the bitterness the rest of the town brought to her life.
“I never knew my orc parent. Mother claimed he was a merchant from the Cracked Land who came by to trade near Saluda and used the small town as a supply stop. She never said anything else, though.”
“As for my mother, well, she was wonderful.” The half-orc smile and her tone suffused with happiness. “Her name was Irene, and she was a Healer of Cynthia. Fully trained and ordained, unlike myself. She was taught in Cathedral City and assigned to Far Reach where she met my father. She was one of the few bright spots when I was a child.”
“I assume she was the one who taught you how to heal?”
Dora nodded before giving a quick verbal confirmation. After that, the two settled down for a quiet ride.
As the Yellowmoon Menagerie drew ever closer to the city, Dora’s attention was soon grabbed by something new. Several of the other wagons nearby had been piled high with mining and digging equipment. The Healer frowned.
Her interest intensified when she looked back and saw the confusion on the rest of the crew’s faces. Rindel looked intrigued while Reesh and Uldo watched with confusion. Holt was nodding slowly, as if this confirmed something for him, and last but not least was the suspicious look in Scarrot’s eyes.
Eventually the orc called for a stop and the caravan ground to a halt at a waystation.
“Why are we stopping?” Dora asked, riding back to the group. “The city isn’t that far away, we could reach it by nightfall!”
She gestured towards the spires of the city, the walls like toys from the distance. Scarrot just shook his head.
“We could, but it’d be evening then, and the gates would be crowded from the traffic,” Scarrot explained. “Plus, all the good inns and parking spots would be taken. Better to call it a night here.”
“Of course, we still need to inform the client we’re coming, so Holt will be heading off alone.” The goateed man bobbed his head in silent agreement.
“How come he gets to go to the city?” Dora asked, managing to keep the whine from her voice.
“Because he’s a human and would be allowed in much faster than an orc,” Scarrot said bluntly. “And he knows his way around inside. He’ll tell of our coming, then spend the night in Annod Bol before greeting us in the afternoon when we arrive.”
The Healer sighed but nodded, trotting Starspot over to Uldo before helping Kari off the horse.
She then led the slave towards Rindel, who was sorting supplies in one of the wagons.
“Can we make something special for dinner?” Dora asked. The gnome tilted his head to the side.
“What were you thinking of?”
“I was thinking we could have jam buns?” Dora said hopefully. The tiny Quartermaster nodded slowly.
“I thought you might want some so I baked a bunch before we left Creidor. How many do you want?”
“Enough for everyone to have one.”
The way she said ‘everyone’ caused Rindel to raise an eyebrow before seeing a determined look in Dora’s expression and he nodded in understanding.
“Got it. I think we have enough for that. And I’ll even break out some of the good rations. Everyone deserves a decent meal before treading Annod Bol’s stained halls and walls.”
Kari stood to the side as Dora and Rindel bustled around the impromptu kitchen, preparing the finest dinner that could be made out of hard tack, thick salted pork, and whatever else they could find.
The result was a decently tasty stew with an extra serving of ale for the crew. As dinner was passed out, Dora brought along with her a sack from which she withdrew small, jelly-filled rolls.
Some members of the caravan shot her strange looks when she approached the slave wagons, but the half-orc shook it off.
“Thank you.” More than a few of the slaves had tears in their eyes as they accepted her gift.
“I’m sorry. This is all I can do,” Dora whispered.
“Cynthia bless you.” More and more, this was muttered by the slaves, some of the older ones giving the half-orc pitying looks.
It took all of her willpower not to break down then and there.
“Here. One left,” Dora said, sitting down next to Kari near their tent.
“You know, it’s bad manners to eat dessert before dinner,” the blindfolded slave pointed out.
Dora shrugged and began to feed her the stew, having caught on to her request.
“Hopefully your little jam pastry will restore my taste buds,” Kari groaned as the last of the food disappeared down her throat.
“It will. It’s made with my mother’s recipe,” Dora promised, holding out the bun.
Kari opened her mouth and bit into the treat hesitantly, but her expression soon turned serious as she chewed and swallowed the bite.
“The rest of it, please.”
Dora smiled and helped the shackled young woman eat the rest of the honey glazed jam bun.
It was only after Kari had greedily gulped down the delectable pastry that she took on an expression of concern.
“Dora, did you keep one for yourself?”
“No.”
“I see. If only it hadn’t been so delicious then I could have saved you some for yourself.”
Dora waved off the slave’s concern. “It’s fine. I’ll be able to eat some later.”
The two lapsed into silence, neither sure what to say. Finally, it was Kari that spoke up first.
“I wish I could say it has been fun,” the merchant’s daughter said slowly. “But I don’t regret meeting you. Out of all the slavers I could have gone with, you are probably the nicest.”
“What’s this? No declarations of escape?” Dora asked jokingly. Kari shook her head in the negative.
“I’ve tried that already. Didn’t work.”
Dora’s jovial nature vanished instantly and she looked at the young woman in shock. The raven-haired woman rolled her eyes under the crimson cloth.
“Don’t act so surprised. The first few days I tried all sorts of things when you were asleep: breaking the manacles, slipping off the blindfold, snapping the collar, even just making a break for it. The time I attempted that I barely made two steps beyond your tent before your boss caught me.”
“He never said anything,” Dora said in disbelief.
“Yeah, don’t know why, eith
er. Seems like the kind of guy to yell at someone for the most minor of mistakes,” Kari claimed. “He treats you well, though.”
The half-orc snorted in amusement. “Uh-huh. I’ll admit he’s never physical with me, but that about as far as Scarrot’s care goes. Doesn’t hesitate to shout or belittle me, or point out any mistakes. Never calls me by my real name, either.”
“Out of curiosity, do you know what Ildora means?” Kari inquired.
“Dunno. I don’t speak orcish,” Dora said flatly. “Anyways, what about your other escape attempts?”
“That old man who bought me and brought me to you spared no effort in making sure the enchanted artifacts that currently bind me would stay on. Made a few tries to break free before he gave me to you. Ironclad spell work and design. Couldn’t do much. The only reason I even tried to escape under your care is because you never told me not to.”
“What?”
“For a slaver, you’re really bad at it,” Kari said with a shake of her head. “You think these collars we wear are for fashion? No, the real reason is because each one is enchanted and cursed to bind us as slaves.”
“Even a cheap, basic slave binding collar has the feature to compel anyone who wears one to obey the person who owns the collar’s contract. When you buy a slave, you’re technically buying the collar, which comes with an enslaved being as an added bonus,” Kari said with a hint of dark humor in her voice. “Each slave’s contract contains the magical array which controls the collar, and thus, the slave themselves. As the current owner of the contract you could force me to do anything. And I’d have to obey.”
She nudged the bronze ring around her neck with her covered hands. “Some collars and contracts are better at it than others. The one I have is strong enough that it could force me to commit suicide, should you so choose. Nor can I actively hurt you, or try to bring you harm. At least it’s not one of those horrible brainwashing ones. The horror stories you hear about them…”
“You sure know a lot on this subject,” Dora said after a while, both horrified and, to her shame, intrigued. She had only known a bit of this information beforehand. “I’ve been in this line of work for two years and barely know anything about it.”