Authors: Leslie Ann Moore
From everything Jelena had told him about Thessalina, he had expected no quarter from her
Maybe she’s not quite the stony-hearted bigot Jelena thinks she is.
“I can’t let you go, but I can’t keep you prisoner, either,” Thessalina continued. “We are about to push our offensive and I won’t have time to think about or deal with you so I’ve arranged to have you taken off my hands.” She stood and the top of her head just brushed the underside of the canvas awning. “A slaver named Marcus is in the area. He specializes in…exotic types. I’m selling you to him.”
Ashinji shivered as the meaning of her words sank into his tired mind. “You…you are making me a…
slave
?”
Thessalina nodded. “Look at it this way. I’m giving you a chance…a chance to live. If you’re very, very lucky…well, only the gods know.” She spun on her heel and made as if to leave, then paused and turned back to gaze down at him. “The priests tell us that elven beauty is a trap to catch the unwary,” she said. “They say that your kind weave spells to ensnare us so you might steal our souls because you have none. They say elves are jealous of humans because we have souls…and we are superior for having them.”
“Do you believe what your priests teach you about my people?” Ashinji asked.
“I thought I did,” Thessalina replied, and then she left.
Ashinji rolled onto his side and let his mind slip back into blankness, too exhausted to think about the meaning behind Thessalina’s final words.
~~~
“This is the prime specimen you told me about? My lady Thessalina, with all due respect…he looks terrible!”
“That may be so, but he’s young and strong. He’ll heal.”
Ashinji woke with a start from a crazy dream in which a huge, black, four-legged beast with the upper torso of a man screamed at him to watch his back. He moaned aloud at the shock of pain that coursed from his shoulder down through his arm. He tried to flex his fingers but his hand had grown too swollen to close.
“Ah, he’s awake. You say he speaks Soldaran?”
“Fluently.”
“And how do you say his name again?”
“Ash-een-gee.”
“You must be Marcus,” Ashinji murmured through dry, cracked lips. “My new owner.”
He opened his eyes to see a tall, powerfully built man stooping over him. A thick head of curly black hair and a full beard framed the man’s broad face.
“That’s right, Ash…Ashinji. Lady Thessalina has told me a few things about you.” He shot Thessalina an exasperated look. “She didn’t tell me you looked like shit, though!”
“Do we have a deal or not Marcus? I can always sell him to Celene, you know.” Thessalina planted her hands on her hips, impatience evident in every line of her body.
“Temper, temper, my lady. Let’s not be too hasty, now. I said I was interested and I still am, but in light of his, ah, condition, I’m going to have to reduce my offer. Cost of nursing him back to health…the risk I take that he might die of that wound…well, you understand.”
“I understand that you’ll make a handsome profit on him when you re-sell him in Darguinia!” Thessalina’s dark eyes flashed.
“Yes, well. I won’t make anything if he dies. I’ll give you twenty imperials.”
Ashinji wondered how much twenty imperials would purchase—a good warhorse, perhaps, or a decent suit of armor? He found it a very curious experience to be haggled over.
Thessalina frowned. “An elderly house slave might be worth only twenty. He’s a trained fighter. I know for certain you’ll get at least fifty for him, maybe more. I want forty or I’m sending for Celene.”
Marcus chuckled appreciatively. “You’ve missed your calling, my lady. You were born to be a trader. Take thirty five and we’ll shake on it.” He held out a beefy hand. Thessalina extended hers and they shook.
Marcus hunkered down beside Ashinji and fixed him with a penetrating stare. His brown eyes, much to Ashinji’s surprise, held no contempt. “I’ve never had any ill feelings toward your kind,” the slaver began. “So, you’ll not get any special abuse from me. Matter of fact, I believe in treating my stock well, keeping them fit and healthy. I don’t make any money on sick slaves. You’re in no condition to try anything foolish, like an escape attempt, so I won’t bother to warn you against it.” Marcus stood up as far as the low ceiling would allow. He turned toward Thessalina. “I’ll come and collect him first thing tomorrow morning.” Thessalina nodded curtly and followed the slaver out of the enclosure, leaving Ashinji alone with his thoughts.
The dream that had haunted him—of fire and pursuit and a face he knew he should recognize but couldn’t—it had all come to pass in a few terrible, life-altering moments. The image of Sadaiyo turning his back and riding away to abandon him to death would be burned into his mind’s eye forever.
~~~
Later that evening, Trip brought him a bowl of soup and a cup of beer, but Ashinji felt too sick to eat. He knew his body needed nourishment in order to heal, but the smell of the food twisted his gut into knots. He begged Trip to take it away, and with a disinterested shrug, the guard complied.
Later still, the surgeon appeared like a blood-spattered apparition, waking Ashinji from a restless doze. He bent down and pressed his blade-thin nose against the bandages that swaddled Ashinji’s shoulder, then raised Ashinji’s arm and ran his fingers over the swollen flesh.
He clicked his tongue and shook his head.
“Too much swelling. Not a good sign,” he said. He laid a hand against Ashinji’s forehead. “Fever as well. But the wound has no odor. Puzzling. Perhaps it’s due to your inhuman constitution. I have no experience treating your kind, so I don’t know what to expect.” He clicked his tongue again. “Willow bark, golden seal, and feverfew, I think. Yes, hopefully, they’ll do the trick. I’ll send one of my assistants with a draught.” He turned to go, then paused and said “I suppose you’re in a lot of pain. I’ll send some poppy juice as well.”
Ashinji shook his head. “No. No poppy juice.” The drug would take away his pain, but it would also cloud his mind more than the pain already did. He couldn’t afford to have his thoughts impaired any further.
“Suit yourself, then,” the surgeon growled.
After he departed, Ashinji wondered if he had imagined the blood upon the man’s apron.
~~~
“Hey, tink…wake up.”
Ashinji felt the sharp prod of a booted toe in his ribs. He rolled over to see Trip standing over him, hands on hips, his body silhouetted against the bright sunlight pouring into the enclosure.
Blinking against the glare, Ashinji sat up and rubbed his face with his uninjured hand. He made a mental assessment of the state of his body, and realized with relief that the surgeon’s draught had been effective. The swelling in his arm had noticeably decreased and he found that he could now move the fingers of his left hand. A tiny spark of hope kindled in his breast. Perhaps he would escape death awhile longer.
“Gods, you smell strange, tink,” Trip commented. He wrinkled his nose in distaste.
“I need to…to…” Ashinji began, but the guard finished his sentence.
“Take a piss, sure. ‘Course you do. I’ll take you to the latrines.” He stepped back and waited.
It seemed as if every bone and muscle in his body hurt, and as Ashinji struggled to his feet, he wondered how he would find the strength to make it all the way to Darguinia. He swayed, weak as a newborn lamb, and would have fallen had not Trip lunged forward to catch him.
“Here, lean on me,” the guard muttered, and swung Ashinji’s right arm over his shoulder.
After two days in the relative dimness of his makeshift prison cell, the sunlight outside seemed painfully bright, momentarily dazzling Ashinji’s eyes. He allowed Trip to lead him to the latrine pits, where he had no choice but to relieve himself before a curious crowd of onlookers. Hot with shame and fury, he stumbled away on Trip’s arm, the catcalls and hoots of derision like the lash of a whip upon his bare back.
Marcus was waiting for him, along with Thessalina, when he returned.
“Hmm. I think he looks a little better,” the slaver commented.
“The surgeon will be here shortly to change his bandages and then you can take him,” Thessalina replied. She stepped closer to Ashinji and looked into his eyes. “My army attacked your forces again, last night under cover of darkness, but your general was ready for us. Once again, I had to call a retreat.” She searched Ashinji’s face for his reaction.
“My brother is a capable commander,” he replied.
Thessalina’s eyes widened with surprise. “Your brother commands the elven forces? Perhaps I was too hasty in selling you to Marcus here,” she said. “Your brother, no doubt, would have paid me a handsome ransom for your return… much more than I’m getting from this old fox!” Marcus snorted and rolled his eyes.
Ashinji shook his head. “I thought your commanders would have killed me first, rather than let me return to my people.”
Thessalina tossed her glossy mane. “Enough gold changes even the most resolute of minds. I would have had to share the ransom with them, of course.”
“My brother would not have bargained with you in any case,” Ashinji said.
“Why not?” Thessalina lifted one eyebrow.
Ashinji did not reply, but his expression must have given her some clue, for she frowned and said “I am truly sorry for you, Ashinji.”
“My lady, I’ve come to tend the elf.” The surgeon strode up, followed by an assistant carrying a leather sack. He exclaimed with satisfaction when he saw Ashinji conscious and standing. “The draught worked. Excellent.” He snapped his fingers. “Bring him in here so I can work,” he ordered, indicating the enclosure.
Ashinji sat down on the dingy straw and tried to remain still as the surgeon first removed the bandages then proceeded to clean the wound, but the man made no effort to be gentle. By the time he finished, Ashinji had nearly reached the end of his endurance. Sweat-soaked and shaking, he shot the surgeon a bitter, angry glare as the man wiped his hands on a rag and stood. “I’m finished. You can take him now,” he called out. To Ashinji, he snapped, “On your feet.”
Marcus entered the enclosure, a pair of manacles dangling from his hand.
“C’mon now, Ashinji. Time to go,” the slaver said cheerily. The manacles clinked as they swung against Marcus’ thigh.
For in instant, Ashinji considered running, then just as quickly gave up the idea. Even if he could find the strength to run, he would be cut down before he could take three steps.
“My father is Lord of Kerala, Commanding General of the Armies of Alasiri,” he whispered. “I am the son-in-law of the king. Do not do this to me, please!” He despised himself for begging, but he had nothing else left.
“I know you’ve got a pedigree, Ashinji, but none of that matters anymore,” Marcus said. “You’re a slave now, that’s all. The sooner you accept it, the easier things’ll be for you. I s’pose I could try to sell you back to your dad…that is, if you really are who you say you are…but why should I take the risk? There’s a war on, and your people just might kill me first and ask questions later. No…” He shook his head for emphasis. “I’ll make a very handsome profit selling you in Darguinia, with no risk to my life.” His voice hardened. “Now, get up and hold out your hands.”
Surrounded by his enemies, too weak to fight or flee, Ashinji had no choice but to surrender. Slowly, he climbed to his feet and extended his hands to his new master.
“Wait,” Thessalina spoke up. Marcus turned toward her, eyebrows raised. “He can’t go all the way to Darguinia half-naked,” she said. She looked at Trip. “Go find a tunic,” she ordered. “And a pair of sandals as well.” They waited in silence for the guard to return. Ashinji scanned the faces of the humans around him, trying to summon an emotional reaction, but he found he could not. He had gone numb.
Trip returned with a tunic and a pair of shabby sandals.
“I will need help,” Ashinji said. “I cannot raise my arm over my head.”
The guard hesitated.
“Well, go on! Help him!” Thessalina barked, stabbing the air with her forefinger. Trip jumped to comply, and assisted Ashinji in donning the clothing. The dingy brown tunic hung loosely from his body and the sandals were too large, but the mere fact that he no longer stood half-naked among the enemy acted as a balm to his shredded dignity. Marcus came forward and closed the manacles over his wrists, testing them with a tug to make sure they were secure. He then attached a leather leash to Ashinji’s right wrist.
“Lady Thessalina, it has been a pleasure conducting business with you,” Marcus said, grinning. “I hope the rest of your business goes just as well.”
Thessalina waved her hand in a gesture of dismissal. “Just go,” she said. “I gave one of your assistants a pass that will let all of you stay the night at Amsara Castle. Show it to my steward.”
As she turned to leave, Ashinji called out to her. “Lady Thessalina, if my friend Magnes should ever return home, will you please tell him what became of me?” Thessalina halted. Slowly, she turned to face Ashinji. As their eyes met, Ashinji reached out with his mind to taste the flavor of her psychic energy. He detected determination, ambivalence, anger, and something else….
Thessalina abruptly looked away. She opened her mouth to as if to speak but the words seemed to balk on the tip of her tongue, resisting all of her efforts. Defeated, she spun around and hurried away, as if fleeing something she dared not face.