Blinded by the Sun (Erythleh Chronicles Book 4) (10 page)

"The slavers will still steal people from their homes," Lyssia asserted.

"But together we can ensure that they are not abused."

"I think you are fighting a losing battle. Your ideology is commendable, but those men are animals. They cannot be governed or constrained. They believe themselves kings of what they steal."

"And I think you should reserve such judgement until you know our king a little better."

"I think we will have to agree to disagree."

"We shall see." And with a cryptic smile, Shinu left the room. The snick of the lock falling into place reminded Lyssia that she was a prisoner, now a slave, with a soul-crushing weight.

~o0o~

"Why are you on the floor?"

Shinu's incredulous voice roused Lyssia from a shallow slumber.

"Huh?" she grunted as she pushed herself into a seated position.

"I asked why you were on the floor. There is a perfectly comfortable bed in the room."

"It's too high."

"Excuse me?"

"It's too high," Lyssia repeated as she rubbed at her eyes. "In our lands everyone sleeps on the floor or close to it. We don't have such ridiculously extravagant constructions." She waved negligently towards the bed. "I can't sleep on it. I fear I'm going to fall off."

Shinu looked at her without speaking. His eyes were narrowed, but he did not appear angry. He seemed to be thinking intently. "No one has ever complained before."

"Probably for fear of being beaten." Lyssia ignored Shinu's scandalised expression and stretched. She pushed herself up with a hop so that her good leg was underneath her, supporting her weight. With one hand on the wall she was able to stand independently. "Some might even like this strange arrangement. It's comfortable enough in itself."

She had slept fully dressed. She didn't feel secure enough yet in this new place to disrobe voluntarily. The clothes that had been brought for her were a pair of plain woollen trews and a simple tunic that left her arms bare. The girl who had brought the garments to her room had been clad in dress constructed from what seemed like a quantity of flimsy material, arranged in the simplest fashion, fastened at the shoulders and belted at the waist with the arms left exposed. Lyssia was glad that they weren't making her limp around whilst contesting with long skirts and crutches, but had the niggling worry that they were going to make her wear something like it in the future.

Shinu nodded, more as if affirming something to himself than as a participation in their conversation. He reached forward and handed Lyssia the crutches that had been brought to the room for her use. "I'll give you a few moments to wash and ready yourself, then I will take you to meet Girogis. I'm sure you would prefer to regain your mobility as soon as possible."

"As much good as it will do me," Lyssia muttered, as Shinu closed the door, and locked it, again.

~o0o~

As he had promised, Shinu had allowed her time to wash and pull her new boots on. The top of the one that she wore on her injured leg gaped around her calf, while the other was a snug fit. Her hair was still loose, and far too free for her liking. She had unravelled some thread from the hem of her tunic, but had only had time to braid two thick plaits on each side of her head, enough to keep her hair from her face, before Shinu had come for her. She found it amusing that he knocked before he entered her room. Since he had the key, and kept the door locked or opened it at will, it was hardly as if she could deny him entry.

He had walked with her, keeping patient time with her awkward, swinging gait. He had explained some of the layout of the castle to her, and detailed their route as he had guided her to a room that was evidently given permanently over to the purpose of exercising or training. Lyssia thought it odd that Shinu had offered information that would be valuable should she try to escape, but rather than express her surprise, she had remained silent and had listened carefully to what he told her.

Shinu had made the introductions between her and Girogis, and then had abandoned her in a room full of weights and ropes and weapons, with a giant of a man who was scowling at her like she was vermin. She fully expected him to simply take her crutches and instruct her to walk.

"Sit."

The command was given in a voice like grinding stones, and accompanied with a gesture towards a bench set against one wall. Between the dark stubble on his jaw, his lowered bushy brows, and his black eyes, Girogis looked almost more beast than man. He was easily one of the tallest people that she had ever encountered, and was broad through the shoulders, too. His outfit was not unlike hers in design, although the fabric was black whereas hers was an undyed, indeterminate brown. The muscles in his arms were clearly defined bulges, but not so developed as to impede his range of movement. He was wearing leather bracers wrapped around both wrists and forearms.

Lyssia swung over to the indicated seat, set her crutches down, and then lowered herself onto the bench with all of her weight resting on her good leg. She tried to keep her breathing deep and even, rather than let her speeding heartbeat race away from her. She had no idea what to expect, but she was certain it was going to hurt.

"You can start using it again to begin with," Girogis ground out as he went to his knees before her. "Favouring it like that won't help you get any strength back."

"It's just habit."

"Well put some effort into breaking it."

Lyssia tried not to flinch when he took hold of her good leg, or when he tugged the boot from it. He removed her footwear from her lame leg as well. She braced herself for discomfort, but Girogis started to massage her healthy leg. His fingers were strong and worked the muscles well, but Lyssia thought he might be missing the point of their time together.

"Erm... it's the other leg that was broken." She tried not to stammer, but when Girogis turned the bottomless pits of his eyes to her face, the words faded in her throat.

"I know," he snapped.

Lyssia let him work in silence. He didn't particularly seem to like her, although he did seem proficient to his task. When he'd finished making her good leg feel as though the bone had been removed from it, he turned his attention to her lame leg. She flinched and winced and tried to pull away as he worked his rough thumbs over her still tender shin bone and thick scars. His fingers, covered with their own evidence of rough use, dug into knots that she hadn't realised were embedded in what was left of her calf muscles.

When he spoke again, he did so without raising his head. His tone was almost absentminded; he was caught in concentration on his task. "I need to know what your muscle tone was like before, and since you've been overusing one leg, I need to work the kinks out of it, or you'll pull something and set yourself back. Now I know how much work we need to do."

Lyssia felt that it might be a lot of work, more effort than they'd be able to justify, but she bit her tongue. She hadn't been expecting an explanation, and she was surprised that he had bothered with one. They were willing to help her get the use of her leg back, and anything that gave her strength and mobility gave her more ability to fight, more opportunity to escape and return home.

With only the most cursory of commands, he worked her leg, flexing the ankle joint, and making her bend her knee then straighten it, over and over. He had her twist and place her leg on the bench, with her heel on the wood and her toes towards the ceiling, then pressed her toes back towards her knee which stretched out the tendon in the back of her leg.

Any talk between them was instructions and responses. Lyssia thought she caught a few muttered words of praise, but she couldn't be sure. Her leg was beginning to burn, both the muscles and the bone were on fire, but she refused to give Girogis the satisfaction of being able to call her weak. She would continue until he told her to stop, or until she passed out, which was beginning to be a real possibility.

As he was making her push her leg upwards, against gentle pressure that he was exerting with his flattened palm, he said, "You should listen to Shinu."

The change in tone and subject muddled her mind, particularly as she fought against the building agony, so it was a moment before she found the appropriate response. "I do."

"No," Girogis pushed a little harder. "I can see it, you're humouring him, not listening to him. He wants to help you. He'll teach you."

"What do I need to learn?" Lyssia grunted. "How to bleed? I can do that well enough."

Girogis let up the pressure on her leg. Lyssia took the opportunity to let it drop against the bench. She tried not to make her sigh of relief too obvious.

"Do you know anything about our customs?" he asked, but did not wait for an answer. "Where do we take blood from? How do we take it? Do you believe we bite your neck like a demon? Do you believe you will be drained dry before the next new moon?"

There was an amount of vitriol in Girogis tone, that coupled with her ignorance and inability to answer his questions, made Lyssia stutter. "I... I... don't know."

"Then you have much to learn. Shinu will teach you all you need to know and more. You should pay attention."

Lyssia took a steadying breath and stated the obvious. "You don't like me."

For the first time since she had entered the room, Girogis smiled. "I haven't made up my mind yet."

"You're angry with me."

Girogis huffed. "You're clearly intelligent, but you're in danger of acting like a prejudiced bigot."

"Excuse me?!" Lyssia was incredulous at his accusation. "I'm the one who was beaten, kidnapped, stolen, and sold. I think I'm entitled to a little prejudice against the people who did that to me."

"And your people? Do they educate themselves? Do they learn to fight?"

"Yes, in Sken..."

"Ah yes," Girogis interrupted. "They run away and hide in the desert."

"We fight," Lyssia gritted out, incensed beyond words.

"Some of you fight. Some of you go out and fight for those who will not."

"Who cannot."

"Who will not fight for themselves . All men and women can fight for their freedom if they want to badly enough."

"You think we wish to be slaves."

"I think you don't make much of an effort to be otherwise."

"Now who's the prejudiced bigot?" Lyssia snapped. She swung her leg off the bench, not caring if she kicked Girogis in the face, but he moved out of her way with deft speed. She grabbed her crutches and did her best to stalk from the room with her head held high. She almost succeeded, until she realised Girogis was laughing, choking on great sobs of mirth. She turned back, certain that she was caught in some fantastical nightmare. Any moment she would awaken; this was all too bizarre to be real.

Girogis coughed and laughed until he could gather enough breath to form words. "You're so angry you're barely leaning on your crutch. You'll do, pet. You'll do. You might even be good for him."

Lyssia latched onto the words that made the most sense. "Pet?"

"You'd prefer I called you slave?"

"No. You could always use my name."

"I think I prefer to call you pet."

She could have wrapped her dignity about her and walked out without another word, but she was a slave bought for her blood. She had no dignity, so she might as well have the last words. "Fuck you," she flung at Girogis, and stumped out of the gymnasium and back to her room with Girogis' renewed laughter echoing in her ears.

Chapter Ten

"We will need two battalions to accomplish this," Multha said, almost to himself as he studied the map that was laid out on the table.

"Can you spare them without compromising the preparations?" Kavrazel asked.

"I believe so."

"And this plan can be accomplished?"

"Yes, I believe it can. There will be resistance. Not everyone will see reason. Some will be stubborn, they won't leave their homes, even if we explain that it's for their own safety."

"For now, concentrate your efforts on the ones who see sense," Kavrazel advised.

"That will ease the process, Majesty."

Kavrazel looked at the map again, and felt the familiar sinking feeling in his gut. The areas of habitation on the coast had been marked. They were less dense than those inland, Vuthron was a country that relied upon mining more than fishing, after all, but still the shaded areas were more numerous than Kavrazel would have preferred. These were the areas most at risk if, when, Morjay decided to invade Vuthron. That any of his people should be so inconvenienced, should be risked, left a sour taste in his mouth.

"Tell me," Kavrazel asked, "do you have your ear to the ground in Vulc?"

"You mean do I hear those that speak sedition?" Multha asked.

Evidently Multha knew of, and disproved of, the rabble-rousers that thought Vuthron should deny Taan. "Yes, what do you know of those who would dispute my seat on the throne?"

"They are exploiting the ignorance of the low people, those that do not know, or do not care to know the history of our dispute with the giants. They are changing their rhetoric from the blood toast to outright treason."

"Quell them."

Kavrazel looked up as Otal spoke. The consul had been standing to one side of the room, ready to offer advice on the preparations for the invasion, but had mostly remained silent, until now.

"Vuthron must be united before the giants arrive at its shores," Otal continued.

"Strange that a Felthissian should offer such advice," Multha commented. "I would have thought you would have been happy to see the giants overrun us."

In general, Kavrazel's cabinet of advisors were all capable of cooperating, or appearing to, but there would always be tension between the native-born members and the foreign Consul. The divide had widened since Erkas' grandstanding had brought the two countries to the brink of war.

"If that had been my intention, this situation would have occurred many years before now. My role here is to ensure the continuation of good relations between Felthiss and Vuthron, not to orchestrate the downfall of this country."

"A man could be forgiven for thinking otherwise when you stood back and said nothing as Erkas threatened us," Multha said, his tone thick with accusation.

"It was a personal vendetta for Erkas that had little to do Vuthron, other than that this country was a convenient target. And I was well aware of what was happening in Thrissia at that time."

"Gentlemen," Kavrazel interrupted. "Do we have an issue to be resolved?"

Multha and Otal stared at each other for a few moments more, then Multha broke into a wide smile. "Not at all, Sire. The Felthissian's right on both counts." Multha's smile faded a little. "But we do need to discuss the civil war you almost started. The traders are spreading rumours that your dictat will increase prices. That gossip is most unpopular."

"Utter rubbish," Kavrazel snorted. "I never instructed them to clothe the slaves in silk and feed them eagle eggs. They need only to treat them as human beings. Do either of you think I should retreat from that fight?"

Multha shook his head. Otal answered more fully. "This is an opportunity to make Vuthron more secure than it has ever been. This country has twice been brought to war over this matter. If you end the brutalisation of the slaves, it will be harder to justify an invasion."

"You counsel too much reason for a Felthissian," Multha said with a chuckle.

"I've been a long time in Vuthron," Otal answered with a grin of his own. "And speaking of blood." The consul turned to Kavrazel. "How is your new slave progressing?"

It had been ten days since the auction. Lathriss was due to be married before the new moon in three nights. It would soon be time for his new slave to take up her duties, whether she was happy about them or not. It was hardly any time at all to prepare and assimilate someone with a background such as hers.

"She's still recovering, her limp is improving. Shinu is keeping her under his wing, he's quite taken. Surprisingly, so is Girogis. They sing her praises, although grudgingly in Girogis' case, but that is more than I expected." Kavrazel knew that Girogis was currently pushing the new slave through another session to strengthen her leg and improve her mobility. Although his friend wasn't given to recounting every single exchange that took place between him and the Skenite, he usually returned from the training room in a better than average mood.

"She must be a special one," Multha asserted. "Girogis had no time for Lathriss."

"Shinu tells me that this one is a Skenite warrior," Otal chimed in.

"That explains a lot, then." Multha nodded sagely.

"Feisty was the word he used, I think," Kavrazel added.

"Have you tasted her yet?" Multha asked. There were not many people that Kavrazel would have tolerated such candid conversation from, but Multha and Otal had earned the right to be included in the select group that the king felt he could speak freely with.

Kavrazel shook his head. No, he had not yet taken blood from the new slave. Shinu had wanted to give her as long as possible to find her place within the palace, and to be allowed to settle and recover before she was called on for her official duties. "She hasn't even seen it done yet. Shinu agrees with me that allowing her to watch Lathriss would not be constructive. Even after all these years, the girl still acts as though I'm going to take her arm clean off. It's hardly the best impression to make."

"She hasn't seen any others?" Otal asked.

"Shinu takes her meals to her in her room," Kavrazel responded.

"Best not to have her mix too freely with the others," Multha agreed. "If the girl makes friends she might be more inclined to pass on gossip."

"I don't think she's the sort, neither does Shinu. I think he's more concerned about what they might say to her than she to them. She's older than is normally considered for the role, less naive."

Otal was looking at him, a curious expression on his face. "You chose her from the markets yourself, yes?"

"Yes." Kavrazel nodded. "What?" he asked, as Otal and Multha shared a wry grin between themselves.

"Nothing." Otal shook his head. "Only that you never did like to do things the easy way."

As Otal and Multha shared a chuckle, Kavrazel tried to decide if he was worthy of being the butt of the joke. He wasn't altogether sure that he was, but he sighed and decided to let them have their fun. He turned back to examine the map and tried to refocus his attention on anticipating all the ways in which he needed to keep his country safe.

~o0o~

Kavrazel was tired, which was surprising because the day had not been as busy as his usual itinerary dictated. He had done little in the way of running his kingdom, as it had been Lathriss' wedding day. She had married Denryn, and was no longer his blood slave. As he had promised, he had made her a free woman. He had not attended the ceremony, but he had personally removed Lathriss' collar that morning. Shinu had reported that all the arrangements had progressed smoothly, and that the happy couple appeared to be giddily content.

He had forgone the blood toast for the morning and midday meals. Lathriss was no longer his slave to call on, and he did not wish to sup from any of the others under Shinu's care. He had decided, instead, to wait until the evening meal, and for this to be the first time that he would taste the blood of the woman who was to become his new companion in honouring Taan.

He was surprised to find himself nervous, not in the way of fear, but in the way of anticipation. There was a small knot in his gut that would not be denied, and at random moments, the memory of green eyes flashed before him. Lyssia; Lot Seventeen. He had not seen her since the day of the auction.

Many times he had intended to seek her out and affect some sort of introduction, but it seemed that whenever his duties paused long enough for his intention to become forefront in his mind, it was swiftly denied by some other petition on his time and attention. He had requested regular reports from Girogis and Shinu. He was pleased to hear that she appeared to be flourishing in her new home, and was walking unaided. Shinu had wanted her to continue using the crutch for some time longer, but she had stubbornly refused. He knew that Girogis was quietly impressed with her proud obstinacy.

Kavrazel was seated at the head of the immense dining table, with Girogis standing patiently in his usual place. He listened for any sounds from the corridor. Exactly on time, he heard steps, and the creak of the great doors as they were pushed open. He caught a glimpse of Shinu in the shadow before his attention was wholly consumed by Lyssia.

When he had last seen her, she had been a pitiful scrap, slumped over a rough crutch, and barely able to stand, and hardly aware of her surroundings. Now, her eyes flashed. Yes, feisty was a good description. Evidently, despite the time spent this far in the castle, she was not wholly reconciled to her new duties. Her time under Shinu's care, though, had obviously been extremely beneficial. Her frame had filled out from her previously malnourished state. There was only the slightest hint of a hitch in her step as she stalked the length of the room, her sandals making a syncopated slap-tap rhythm on the stones.

She was the epitome of health. There was definition in the muscles of her arms that spoke of strength rather than starvation. Kavrazel guessed that Girogis been concentrating on more than simply rebuilding the strength in her injured leg. Her skin apparently owed its golden tone to nature, rather than the harsh sun of the desert, but it caught the candlelight with a sheen that made him wonder if Shinu hadn't been utilising the simple tricks of the slavers. In the dank light of the auction house, he had thought her hair black. It was dark, very dark, but the golden lights in this room burnished it with strands of copper, showing it to be a rich brown. It had been brushed so that it settled in shimmering, luxurious waves over her shoulders and down her back. The whispering midnight folds of her dress were most flattering, skimming her curves and falling in a stately column to the floor. Her collar, an elegant piece that Kavrazel had chosen personally, was worn with regal grace.

She looked more his equal than his slave. Her head was high and her spine straight; she had been bought, but not cowed. Kavrazel smiled to himself, pleased at the evidence that she was thriving, physically at least.

He waited until she came to a standstill at his side. "Good evening, Lyssia."

"Your Majesty."

He could barely suppress his grin. She was obviously biting back the urge to spit his official title at him.

"Shinu has explained to you what will happen?"

"Yes."

For all that she was responding to him, her eyes were fixed at some distant point.

"So you know that I will make a small cut to your wrist, nothing too severe, and will taste the wound. You will be free to bind it immediately afterwards, although it should need no particular attention."

Her eyes flicked to his, finally, and she tilted her head to one side. "Why are you doing this?"

"What?"

"Being so... polite about it."

"My last blood slave was in residence more than five years. It would have been a miserable time indeed if I had sought only to make her fear me. I do not require terror, only obedience."