Chosen of Mida

7 Slavery—and the Prince of Sigurr’s Sword

The chamber of shining black stone was large indeed, far larger than the slave chamber in the palace of the High Seat of Bellinard. Wailing cries and moans and screams were to be heard once the large double doors were thrown open, giving one the impression of entering a nether region for the lost spirits of females. Naught of males was to be heard save occasional shouts, and once within and able to see the lines and lines of metal enclosures, I also saw naught of males. No more than females did the chamber contain, all naked within their metal enclosures, some chained, some not, some weeping or screaming, some silent, some writhing with pain or need upon the metal of their enclosure’s floor, all exuding so strong a stink of misery and fear that the air thickened with it. Again I struggled against the hands which held me, yet the struggle proved as useless as it had been till then.

The chamber was well lit by torches, and easily did I see the male who glanced up, saw the males who held me, and gestured them toward a door in the far end of the chamber. Quickly did the males follow the one who had gestured, a male in light green body cloth, and soon were we beyond the door in a second, smaller chamber, one which boasted enclosures of different size rather than the same. Once this smaller door had been closed, the silence which descended was akin to deafness.

“Ah, blessed quiet,” sighed the male in green body cloth, turning to the two who held me between them. “I am well aware of the fact that occasionally allowing them their hysterics makes them more obedient slaves, yet I live for the fey when this batch need no longer be allowed the privilege. My ears ring longer than the hin they scream.”

“And yet they learn that even screaming is a privilege which must be earned,” laughed the male to my right. “When the privilege is taken from them, they at last know themselves as full slaves. ”

“And here we have another who begins the journey,” said the male in green body cloth, looking closely upon me. “Larger than most and seemingly most wroth—yet clearly a vessel for the devout prayers of men. There will be many men who cry out the praises of Sigurr while deep within her, for there are few in chains—or without—to equal her.”

“And chained she shall have to be,” growled the male to my left, tightening his grip upon my arm most painfully as I struggled in anger. “A true she-devil is she, with teeth as sharp as any devil in the Caverns of the Doomed. She had undoubtedly been sent by the evil Oneness to plague us in our worship.”

“Serain feels so only by cause of the fact that she bit him,” laughed the male to my right when the male before me frowned. “She attempted escape two corridors from here, and Serain was the one to catch her. I arrived but a moment later, yet barely in time to take her teeth from his flesh before his flesh was taken from his bones. Have a care with her, Podelm; we do not wish to lose you.”

“I shall not be lost,” said the male called Podelm, his frown turning to laughter. “I have a special fondness for the wild ones, for they have ever proven to be the most passionate and most easily aroused. Once she has learned her place as a slave, I may even give her my attention.”

“Which, as it includes sweets and privileges, all slaves are eager for,” laughed the male to my right. “Podelm, your attraction for slaves outshines even Princes of the Blood. Where are we to put her?”

“Here,” chuckled the male Podelm, moving toward two posts which stood to the side of the room, perhaps a pace from the wall. “Face her inward, toward the wall, and secure her well. Her lessons begin here, and they must be sharp ones.”

Again was I forced to motion, in the wake of the green-clad male, and taken between the two posts. Despite the fact that I fought, my arms were raised and placed in thin metal cuffs which depended, one from each post, at the end of long, metal chains. To my ankles also were cuffs attached, their chains ending at the bottoms of the posts, and once the four cuffs were upon me, the slack in the chains was taken up so that I stood between the posts like the stroke called ecks by males. Well chained was the war leader Jalav, well secured by the metal of males, and safe would these males be only so long as she continued so.

The two black-clad males remained no more than a moment past my chaining, and once they had gone the male Podelm came to stand before me, his light eyes pleased as he took me in. The light-haired male stood no more than a finger-joint above me, yet were his shoulders and chest broader by far. A long moment he stood in contemplation, then did he move closer.

“You no longer have a need for this breech,” said he, his hands going to the ties and removing it. “Temple slaves are allowed no coverings, and you are now a temple slave.”

“Jalav is no slave of any sort,” said I, gently testing the strength of the chains which held my wrists. “Jalav is a warrior, a fact you will learn, male, should I ever find myself free.”

“A warrior?” said he, raising his brows in faint surprise. “There have been others through here, in kalod past, who called themselves warriors. Most were not properly cared for and sickened and died, those who did not attempt to do battle with our warriors, who slew them before they, themselves, were slain. I shall not allow you to die, wench, nor shall I allow you to throw your life away upon the blades of warriors. You are magnificent, too magnificent to waste.”

He walked from my view then, taking my breech with him, and when he returned a moment later, he held a wooden pot in his hands, from which a slim bit of wood protruded.

“This is a dye made from the wild gembar plant,” said he, stirring the contents of the pot with the bit of wood. “Its stain is long-lasting and easily visible, and will mark you clearly as a temple slave. This brush is necessary now to keep the dye from my fingers, yet does the dye dry quickly.”

With a small laugh he withdrew the wood he called brush from the pot, bringing into view the end covered with bright red. As he neared me with it I moved as far as I might in the chains, yet was he expecting such movement and prepared for it. Not till I had backed as far as possible from the dye did the brush touch me, a cold, wet feel at the end of my breast. I shouted wordlessly and threw myself about, yet was the brush waiting each time I paused, to touch me firmly and with purpose till the deed was done. At last the male put the pot aside, then stood himself again to examine me.

“Most becoming,” he chuckled, looking from one to the other of my breasts. “Such large nipples are a pleasure to paint, even more pleasant to touch. It is indeed fortunate that your lovely hair is so long, else would your struggles have thrown it upon the dye. Ah, I see the stain has already dried, therefore am I able to examine you further.”

Again he closed with me, yet this time did his hand move to my thighs and between. I fully expected to feel naught from the touch, and gasped when the opposite occurred.

“Oh, excellent,” crooned the male, touching me so deep I could not keep from writhing. “I see the painting of your breasts did indeed heat you up, exactly as I expected. Move for me, sweet slave, move like the slave you are and will be.”

The hateful croon of the male’s voice ended, yet not so his touch. Fire flared through every part of me, burning me to ashes, forcing moans and whimpers from my lips as my body leaped and quivered and sought escape. I had no understanding of why my senses had again come alive; I knew only that they undeniably had. For long reckid the male stood and brought me anguish, then did he step back again with a large smile.

“You will be magnificent in use,” said he, satisfaction filling him to overflowing. “As you will quickly come to beg that use, our men will be even more pleased.”

“Sooner would I beg the final death,” I panted, gasping air to cool the flames which continued to torment me, needs too long unseen to, yet were they far from the crippling needs forced upon me when in the capture of Ceralt. The pain was there in good measure, yet naught I could not best.

“Wild and unrepentant,” laughed the male, shaking his head with mockery. “You think to resist till your final breath, yet resistance will not be allowed you. Naught will be allowed you save obedience to the will of men. You will learn—and you will rejoice. ”

“Jalav will rejoice when once again she stands free with a sword in her fist,” said I, yet the male turned away with a final laugh, paying no heed to my words. Had he grown angered and given me pain, I would yet have had the satisfaction of knowing I had given him displeasure. Where was the satisfaction in giving the male no more than amusement? I stood spread in the grip of metal, having been made to squirm to the will of a male like the lowliest slave female, unable to free myself, unable to avenge myself, giving no more than amusement in return for intrusion. How great was the war leader Jalav, the chosen of both Mida and Sigurr!

My mood, none too light to begin with, grew darker with the passage of the hind. No more was I permitted to see than the wall before which I had been placed, yet were there sounds aplenty to take my attention. When next the door to the larger chamber opened, all screams and sobs had been silenced, save for the pleadings of the female brought within. I knew not what luck had brought her there, yet was she chained in some manner and then beaten, the sound of leather upon flesh nearly drowned in screams of pain and fear. With the beating done, there followed a long speech detailing that which was required of an obedient slave, a doing worse than the beating itself. I attempted to move restlessly in the chains which held me, yet was true movement utterly impossible. The voice of the male droned on, punctuated by sobs and sniffled responses from the female, all intruding, all infuriating.

At long last the voice of the male ceased, and there came the sounds of the removal of chain. I thought the female would then be taken again from the room, yet was I premature. A male suddenly appeared before me, tall with dark hair much like Grandyn’s, his body cloth a bright blue. A length of leather hung at his belt, the sort of leather I had learned the touch of through Ceralt’s displeasure. Gleaming of eye was this male as he looked upon me, and then did he cast a glance beyond my shoulder.

“A pleasing new addition, Podelm,” said he, reaching forth to take my breast in his hand. “Is it the open floor for her, or an alcove?”

“An alcove,” came the voice of Podelm from a distance behind me. “The high born must be allowed the having of her first, else will they have my heart and privates. Should they find her too willful, it will then be the open floor for her. A taste of that will soon have her begging to be returned to an alcove.”

“Indeed,” laughed the male before me, reaching to my thighs with his free hand. “This body will draw any man who sees it, leaving the other wenches to lie idle in their chains. She would ache and weep for feyd thereafter.”

“Perhaps not,” chuckled the voice of Podelm. “See how she moves to the quest of your fingers, seeking to ease the need I have given her. She will find no release from any save those who come to her alcove, and if I do not misjudge the depth of her passion, a brief use will be worse than none. She will learn more quickly than most that her needs will be seen to only through giving pleasure to those who use her.”

“See how she struggles against her chains,” laughed the male before me, slowly withdrawing his hand. “Your words touch her more deeply than I, for she begins to find she cannot deny them. I look forward to my own use of her.”

The male then walked from my ken, leaving me to burn and seethe in the silence I thought it best to adopt. So certain were these males that Jalav would do as they wished, that they made no dire threats at which she might laugh and spit. Different indeed were these males from others I had known, and I liked it not.

Again and again were females brought to the room, some singly, some in groups, most to be punished, some to be taught.

I had long since passed from silent anger to silent pain, for I had ridden far that fey before being placed so openly and discomfortably in chains, with no opportunity for rest. Each new male who entered the room felt the need to explore me with hands and eyes, adding to the weariness and pain I already felt. After the last of them I found I could no longer remain upright, and merely hung limply from the wrist chains. After a moment there were further sounds from behind me, and the male Podelm strolled into view, accompanied by a second male.

“She is clearly done in, yet not a sound out of her,” said the second male, one who wore a body cloth of gray and something of a frown. “Those before her unfailingly wept and begged to be released. ”

“I had scarcely expected the same from this one,” said Podelm, a continuing satisfaction about him. “Had she wept and begged, I would have found myself disappointed. I shall require your assistance in removing her from there.”

The male Podelm stepped to my right, then immediately returned with a snarl of chain. First were my ankles released so that I might again attempt to stand upright, yet as soon as the post cuffs were removed, a short length of chain with two slender cuffs were separated from the snarl and closed upon me. Standing and walking might be easily accomplished with such a chain, yet would fighting and running prove impossible. Despite my weariness I considered attempting resistance with the males, then dismissed the notion as being what was expected. I made no attempt to struggle as my wrists were released, yet was the satisfaction of Podelm as complete as it had been as he closed wide, short-chained cuffs about my wrists. It came to me then that I had perhaps been gulled out of an opportunity for freedom by attempting to disappoint the male, yet was the faint opportunity too long past to reclaim. A collar was put firmly about my throat by the second male, the long chain depending from it wound once about the short chain between my wrists, and then was I turned at last toward the balance of the chamber.

“That throat chain is incorrectly set,” said Podelm to the second male as I looked about the room. “You give the slave permission to raise her head before she has earned it. Also, you allow her too defiant a stance. This is the manner in which it should be set.”

The male’s hand pulled sharply at the chain depending from my throat, pulling my head as sharply downward, then instantly took up the slack at my wrists by taking a second pull at the long chain’s free end. In fury I attempted to raise my wrists to provide the slack I required to stand tall and proud, yet was the chain’s end held firmly in the male’s fist. Uselessly, I struggled against the metal which held me, and that, too, brought amusement to Podelm.

“The poor slave-child is weary,” he chuckled, stroking my hair in a solicitous manner. “Her struggles are pale and feeble now, yet I confidently expect them to resume once she has rested. In point of fact I look forward to their resumption. Take her now, and be sure to hold the chain exactly as I have it.”

“As you say, Podelm,” agreed the second male, taking the chain so quickly and firmly that I was unable to move it so much as a finger’s width. In such a manner was I led from the room, shambling slowly forward, seeing naught save the floor before my feet, my head bowed, my fury difficult to contain. Had Mida and Sigurr seen me then, the dark god’s evil laughter would have whispered to the skies.

Fury is difficult to maintain when one has little enough strength to propel one. The unnamed male of gray body cloth moved through the large chamber and thence into a corridor at a speed which forced me to hurry somewhat in his wake, to keep from being pulled to the stone floor and dragged. The chain between my ankles was not quite long enough to allow a decent stride therefore were short, quick, mincing steps my sole option. Much did I feel as though I were a slave-female indeed, prancing obediently in the wake of he who held my chain, yet the anger such a feeling gave was a strengthening one, keeping me erect and determined to break free. When once I stood with sword in hand again, these males would learn what sort of slave they treated with.

From corridor to corridor was I taken, yet no more than the first two were empty of life other than our own. I, who saw naught save the stone of the floor, also said naught, yet the male who led me was quick with greetings once others were in view. Once, in what seemed a wide, peopled hall, we paused so that the male might speak at more than greeting length. I, who had attempted to work the stiffness from my limbs despite the strange gait I had been forced to, gave silent thanks for the rest the halt provided and attempted to look about. No more than a short way to each side was I able to turn my head, yet was such turning necessary if I were to learn where I had been taken. Had I been released upon the moment, I would surely have stood like a hoodwinked kan, knowing not which direction to choose for escape.

To my left was a partial view of the hall we stood in, a wide, high-ceilinged hall filled with many pillars. Upon each pillar, black as the stone of the floor and walls, was a low perch with a candle upon it. Below these perches, tightly chained and tethered to the pillars, lay red-dyed slave females, each lying beautifully and temptingly, each as silent as the males were vociferous. Even as I watched, a male approached one of these, and no sooner had his body cloth been removed than the female’s legs were thrown wide and he had entered her. Eager indeed was the male for her use, and tightly did she cling to the wide arms of the male, throwing her head back as she gasped at his onslaught. This, I thought, was undoubtedly the floor the males had discussed earlier, and my fists clenched beneath the wide cuffs at thought of being placed there. There would be little of the welcome these males preferred were Jalav to be placed there, no matter the pain she was given, no matter the cost. Jalav would not be slave, no matter the pleasure or lack thereof of the male Podelm.

“Were you given permission to look about you, little slave?” came a voice from my right, interrupting my thoughts. Quickly did my head turn of its own volition, and though I was not able to see the face of the male, the black of his body cloth was more than clear. This, then, was a male of importance who spoke to me, a fact which was to have impressed me more than it did. Slowly, deliberately, I returned my gaze to the left and made no answer.

“I hear no reply from you, wench,” came the voice of the male a second time. “Have you not been taught to give proper answers to questions addressed to you?”

“You foolish slave!” came the voice of the male in gray, anger clear in his tone. He jerked so savagely, upon the chain he held, that nearly was I thrown to the floor. “This slave is wild yet, warrior, unused and untrained in the proper manner. Should she displease the high ones, she will certainly be punished and set here for the use of all. You may then teach her the lessons she lacks.”

“It would be my pleasure to do so,” said the black-clad male, amusement now in his tone. “Yet do I feel that the high ones will not be so foolish as to send her from the alcoves. Were I a Prince of the Blood, I certainly would not do so.”

“Indeed, indeed,” said the gray-clad male nervously, and then was a tighter grip taken upon my chain. “I shall now take her to the alcoves as I was ordered to do. I wish you a joyful devotion, warrior.”

“A moment,” came the voice of the black-clad one, and a large hand appeared upon the chain between my wrists and throat, halting the intended haste of the other male. “I would look more fully upon this slave before she is taken to the alcoves. It will undoubtedly be my sole opportunity.”

With a single pull was the chain taken from the hands of the gray-clad male, and then was I able to raise my head once more, to look up into the eyes of the Sigurri warrior. Light-haired was the male, as many of the Sigurri were, yet were the eyes which regarded me as dark as mine.

“Wild indeed,” grinned the Sigurri, holding to my throat chain, yet not as tightly as the other had done. “I had thought the demureness of her stance more a matter of chain than choice. A man would offer up to Sigurr great thanks indeed through a wench such as this.”

“You may not use her!” fretted the male in gray, hopping about at my left. “She is to be kept as she is till the high ones have used her. Should you take her now, we will both stand in jeopardy!”

“I do believe you fear my use of her more than she does,” laughed the Sigurri, untouched by the anxiety of the other. “Should I take you to lie with me, little slave, would I find great pleasure in your arms?”

“You would be more like to find a dagger in your throat,” I replied, holding his eyes. “To remain among the living, one must learn the difference between a captive and a slave.”

“And you are a captive,” grinned the male, taken aback not at all. “Without a doubt, and most definitely—a captive. Very well, lovely captive. I shall leave you to the will of the Princes—save for this.”

Upon the word was I drawn to his chest, and quickly were his lips upon mine. Strange were these Sigurri, for many things as well as for the great fondness they had for touching lips yet doing naught else. Briefly did I wonder at their ability to do other things, then did I recall the words of my warriors who had used the four we had found in Bellinard. They were, apparently, capable of giving pleasure; perhaps they had little experience in the taking of it. The Sigurri’s kiss was deep indeed, his body hard against me, and then, as abruptly as I was taken, I was again released.

“You may have her now, slave handler,” said the black-clad one, making no effort to touch me further. “The high ones allow small presumptions, therefore you need not fear.”

“They do not allow presumptions from those who are not warriors,” muttered the smaller, gray-clad male, though softly, so that the other might not hear him. Immediately did he pull upon the chain to take me with him, and again we traversed the hall, though this time with a difference. So anxious was the male to see us gone from the other, he had evidently forgotten to tighten the chain which depended from my throat. It was still necessary that I dance tiredly about, yet was I able to see.

The large hall, filled with females in use and males in converse, soon lay behind us. Through two further corridors did we go, then was I hurried through a doorway at the end of the second which led within a large, circular chamber. At the center of the chamber, beneath golden metal hangings bearing many candles, stood a large, circular wooden platform, laden with much provender and drink. About the outer edge of the chamber, two broad steps above the level of the platform, were hangings of heavy golden silk showing the stroke of Sigurr. At many intervals about the silk were indications of openings, and to one of these openings was I intemperately hastened.

“At last I am nearly done with you, slave,” muttered the male in gray, reaching to my throat to remove the collar and chain, and then turning away to the silk. “This alcove should be empty, and as soon as I have arranged you within it, I shall—”

His words ended abruptly, for as his hand raised to the silk, my arms raised to bring the short chain of the wrist cuffs down before his face and then about his throat. Little strength was left to me after my time between the posts and the shambling trot through the corridors, yet was that little gladly spent in attempting to end the life of one who would see me slave. No more than small sounds came from the male as he clawed feverishly at the chain keeping breath from him; grimly did I retain my hold, for surely did the male stand between me and freedom. The flush of near death rose in him, and his body twisted about, almost taking me from my feet—and then were there hands upon me, forcing my arms and the chain from about the male, releasing him to fall to hands and knees, holding me in unbreakable grips. Two males were there, black-clad and bearing weapons, and they looked down upon the kneeling male who gasped as he held his throat.

“It was your good fortune we were here, slave handler,” said the male to my left, speaking gravely yet exchanging an oddly amused glance with his companion. “Had we not been, your life rather than your duties would have been discharged.”

“She is a savage!” croaked the gray-clad male, yet upon his knees, continuing to look down at the smooth, black stone floor. “She nearly took my life! Slay her, warriors, slay her!”

“And deprive the high ones?” asked the male, his amusement now clear in his tone. “Has she not been sent to serve their pleasure?”

“Pleasure!” echoed the male upon the floor, shock turning him at last to look up at us, the track of the chain redly visible across his throat. “How is it possible to speak of pleasure with one who would as soon take your life as offer a caress? How might a man take pleasure from a savage?”

“A warrior finds no difficulty in taking pleasure from any female, civilized or savage,” laughed the black-clad male, tightening his grip upon my arm. “Have you forgotten that the high ones are warriors all, fit to claim the blood of mighty Sigurr? There is little reason for a warrior to fear this wench, and much reason to find interest in her. Are you sufficiently recovered to place her in an alcove?”

The smaller male looked upon me, seeing the chains and weariness I wore yet continuing to find fear in the sight his eyes gave. Indeed did I then stand the straighter between the males who held me, challenging with my eyes the one who slowly raised himself from the floor, yet had the challenge no hope of being accepted.

“As I am not a high one nor a warrior,” he rasped, “I shall not approach her again. It is the place of you warriors to insure the safety of those who visit these alcoves, therefore shall I give you the task of securing her in place. Should she escape and cause harm, be it on your heads. I will await the chains you remove from her here.”

“As you wish,” shrugged the male to my left, his amusement most open and evident. “My brother and I will see to her placement, and you may await your chains here. If there is a small delay in our return, accept it with patience.”

The gray-clad male began to open his mouth in the beginnings of protest, yet before he was able to find the proper words, the two males who held me had pushed the silk to one side and taken me past it, closing it again quickly behind themselves. The area we entered was small in relation to the over-all chamber, perhaps three paces by four, lit by three large candles in golden holders, one on each of the three walls of black wood. Upon the floor was a thick, soft floor cloth of a golden color, and in the center of the area was a contrivance longer than it was wide, knee-height from the floor, covered with the soft, thick cloth of the floor, yet in black. With the heavy silk hanging closed, I was immediately taken to the odd platform and forced down upon it on my back.

“A simple neck chain suffices for other wenches,” said the male who had been on my left, “yet you will require other restraints as well, little slave. The high ones will offer up fervent prayers to Sigurr through you, of that you may be sure, and yet their pleasure would decrease were they to find it necessary to fend off attack while doing so. It is therefore necessary that we insure their pleasure.”

As the male spoke, he and the other stretched me flat upon the platform, removed the wrist cuffs, then raised my arms above my head. With the wrist chain gone I attempted to struggle, yet would the effort have been futile even had I not been weary. The strength of the two males overrode my struggles easily, the knee of the silent one in my middle holding me flat as my wrists were fastened with chain to the edge of the platform above my head. With my wrists seen to, a chain and collar was then brought to my throat, one which disallowed the raising of my head more than a finger-length from the platform. I was sure I had then been secured as completely as necessary to the well-being of any mortal male, yet the two Sigurri were of a different mind.

“And, of course, the final touch,” said the male who had seen to the speaking for the two, reaching for my ankle. He removed the one cuff and the other male the second, and then were slim platform cuffs set to replace those removed. At last was I secured to the satisfaction of the males, and they straightened from their task to look thoughtfully upon me.

“It is difficult to merely gaze upon her,” said the second male in a husky voice, he who had kept silent now speaking with mouth and eyes alike. “And her hair should be spread all about, rather than being crushed beneath her.”

“Her hair is easily attended to,” said the first male, coming forward to pull hand-wide locks of hair from where it was trapped beneath me. “To do other than merely gaze upon her is a matter done with more difficulty. See how high and firm her breasts are, impudently beckoning a man’s hands to them. ”

The hands he spoke of left my hair and came deliberately to my breasts, hovering just above them, about to touch yet just short of touching.

“It is the soft roundness of her thighs which calls to me most strongly,” said the second, “that and the heat to be found between them. It is there my hands are most earnestly beckoned.”

The second male moved so that his hands, too, were above me, poised to touch yet not yet touching. I had been moving about upon the platform as much as the chains would allow, yet so close were their hands that the heat of their flesh reached out to overwarm me. Had I moved again as I had been doing, surely would their hands have been upon me in full.

“How still she lies,” murmured the first of the males, his eyes looking deep into mine, his body unmoving above me. “Do you think, brother, she fears the touch of men?”

“It is undoubtedly some fear which grips her,” said the second, also unmoving. “Were she not fearful, she would joy in serving the high ones in their devotions. She is a fearful little slave, one who will fall to tears during her service, bringing disgust to the high ones.”

Anger touched me upon hearing such foolishness, and nearly did I struggle against the chains in vast annoyance—till I saw the hidden amusement in the eyes of the male above me. Surely was he and his brother anticipating such movement from me, hoping to use anger and foolish speech to force me to foolishness of my own. My fists closed tight in the cuffs which held them above my head and my lips tightened in anger, yet no other motion did I allow myself.

“Alas, I see the wench is not to be gulled,” said the first male straightening away from me with something of a grin. “Perhaps she has been told that no other than the high ones may touch her here, and therefore takes care not to give others the touching of her even in anger.”

“Perhaps so,” said the second male, and then, surprisingly, his hands were firmly upon my thighs, stroking slowly and squeezing gently. “If so, she has surely been misled. I think it possible that this one is unbroached, brother, a fact that high ones would wish to be told of. We must investigate the possibility. ”

“Indeed,” laughed the first, highly amused at the manner in which I snarled and struggled in vain. “Indeed must the possibility be investigated. I shall see to it personally.”

The first male moved backward to stand opposite the second, and slowly, with much relish, did his hand approach me. As the other held strongly to my thighs he touched me more and more deeply, laughing softly as I failed to deny him entrance, continuing with the probe till my body attempted to rise against the restraining hands of the other. Then did he withdraw as slowly as he had entered, and turn to look upon the other male.

“By Sigurr’s loins, I must admit to a great lack, brother,” said he. “I find myself unable to determine whether or not the female is unbroached. I fear your greater expertise in such matters must ascertain the truth.”

“I will be pleased to assist you, brother,” answered the second male, the sobriety of his tone belied by the sparkle in his eye. My breathing had increased in pace and sweat covered my body, and much did I wish to groan when the first male took possession of my thighs from the second, freeing the hands of the second male. The second toyed with me a moment before plunging within, and quickly did my eyes close as my throat pulled against the collar holding to it.

“Ah, see how she writhes and attempts to capture my hand, brother,” came the voice of the second, huskier now than it had been. “Obviously this is no untouched vessel, new to the use she will be put to. The slave is new only to the chains of men, straining to deny the need raised in her only to find the doing beyond her. When the high ones arrive to see to their late-fey devotions, she will be open and helpless in their arms.”

“Your wisdom is great indeed, brother,” said the first male, his hands squeezing at my thighs as the other continued his efforts to bring me to insanity. “I am now able to see how deeply in need the slave is, so deeply that the high ones will surely be pleased. Whether she wills it or not, she will serve them eagerly when they arrive—and each time thereafter, else will we find the need to visit her again.”

“Do you hear, slave?” asked the second, pinching painfully with his free hand to assure himself of my attention. “You will give pleasure to the high ones of your own volition, else will you please them because you must. Consider the point well in the hind before they arrive, and choose wisely. The choice will not be given you again.”

Only then did the male withdraw from me, and the first release me as well. It made little difference that they no longer touched me, for the fire burned high from their efforts, causing me to strain terribly to keep a moan from escaping. Dimly I heard the sound of chains being gathered, and then the scuff of their receding footsteps, just before the flap of silk being brushed aside. The males then left the small room I had been chained in, leaving me to the contemplation of the point they had made.

“Mida choose them!” I snarled low, opening my eyes at last and attempting to slow my breathing. Indeed did I writhe and strain from their doings, the sweat glistening upon my flesh, my hair damp where it lay upon my arms. My ankles, chained to either side of the platform, were not permitted to close, though the accursed chains allowed the bending of my knees. Much did I feel the need for a male, yet would the Sigurri high ones find disappointment when they came to take my use. I was Jalav, war leader of all the Midanna, and would greet no male warmly while held in chains.

Perhaps four hands of reckid passed before Jalav, a fool of a warrior, ceased struggling against the chains which held her. It had been my intention to reach to the cuffs about my wrists and open them as easily as did the males, yet the difficulty had lain in reaching the accursed things. Though my wrists were held quite close to one another, the distance was wrong for the fingers of one hand to reach the cuff about the wrist of the other. Again and again I had tried, first one hand and then the other, till both wrists ached and burned from the clasp of the metal. The weariness I had felt earlier had greatly increased, yet I felt too filled with fury to rest as I should. I could do no more than lay spread upon the platform as the males had placed me, cursing feebly against the lack of vigilance which had brought me to such a pass.

Surely no less than another four hands of reckid went to naught before I was able to admit the true state of affairs to myself. I had found it utterly impossible to rest and not through the presence of too great an anger. It was need that kept me from finding rest, a need which would not take its talons from my flesh till it was seen to. That I wished to struggle against whichever males came meant naught; the need brought forth from within me would not allow the struggle to long continue. The males would find their victory, and dark Sigurr would laugh long and hard.

So low were my spirits that the time passed unnoticed, my attention so far within that it took the sound of a voice to rouse me. From immediately beyond the silk to my area did the voice come, filled with amusement and eagerness and a good deal of respect.

“Indeed there is a new one worthy of prolonged attention, Prince,” came the voice of he who had been the first of the two males to chain me in the area. “There is one here capable of rousing a man with the mere sight of her, and you shall be the first to have her. It is early yet, too early for any other to have come to his devotions.”

As the silk was pushed to one side my body tensed, a foolish reaction for one chained as I was. The male would enter and have his use of me, and in no manner would I find myself able to avenge the doing till the chains which held me were gone and a sword was once more grasped in my fist. How I was to be freed of the chains and acquire a sword I knew not, yet was the accomplishment surely to be mine alone. Dark Sigurr would not act against those who paid him homage, and Mida would find it distasteful to assist a warrior foolish enough to allow males to enslave her. No, the doing was mine alone; I had only to conceive of the manner in which it might be done. As the silk was thrust even further aside, I pulled again at the wrist cuffs—then gasped aloud in surprise.

“Jalav, what do you do here?” demanded Mehrayn, allowing the silk to fall closed behind him. The red-haired male seemed much refreshed from our journey, and now wore a close-belted covering of black which reached to mid-thigh, rather than a simple body cloth. His now-leather-covered feet moved him quickly to stand above me, and the blaze in his eyes was easily seen.

“Mehrayn, release me at once!” I ground out harshly, suddenly filled with great, grim joy. “I shall have the lives of all of them, male and female alike! By Mida do I swear it!”

“Calm yourself, wench, and answer my question,” said Mehrayn, making no effort toward doing as I had demanded. “How do you come to be here, chained and marked as a slave? If you have angered Aysayn after all my cautions, I will surely punish you as you have never before been punished!”

“Your Aysayn was not present to be angered!” I snapped, pulling again at the chains which held me. “It was the female Ladayna with whom I spoke, a foolish slave-female who demanded that I depart before the return of Aysayn, leaving the task given me by Mida and Sigurr undone.”

“And, of course, you refused,” nodded Mehrayn, folding his arms across his chest as he gazed down at me. “Your refusal was undoubtedly as abrasive as your nature seems to demand, and the Shadow’s consort had you taken up as a slave.”

“As sure as Mida’s light appears anew each fey, I shall have her blood upon my sword,” I vowed. “Should she refuse to face me with blades, I will open her throat with my dagger!”

“And thereby have Aysayn set every Sigurri warrior to the task of hunting you down,” Mehrayn nodded again, an exasperation in his tone. “Can you not see how foolishly you speak, wench, to even consider such an action? What then of the task given you? What then of your very life?”

“All shall be seen to as Mida wishes,” I informed him, moving again in the chains. “At the present, male, I am sure that it is within the bounds of Mida’s wishes to unbind me. Why do you merely stand there?”

“I stand here regarding a dilemma,” said he, his tone remaining exasperated, though having become distant. “I am sworn to the ranks of Sigurr’s legions, yet do I owe the continuance of my life to you. I cannot in honor release you to cause bloodshed among my brethren, nor may I, in honor, leave you as you are. Will you give me your word to refrain from taking sword in hand till you have my permission to do so? In such a manner may I then release you immediately.”

He stood to my right looking down upon me, his well-muscled arms afold across his broad chest, the wide male face of him serious beyond that which I had come to expect from the male. Much did I wish to be released from the chains which held me to the platform, yet thoughts of Ceralt and the vow he had stolen from me stood as a large stone in the path toward that desired end. How might I again pledge myself to weaponlessness, when memories of the previous instance continued to plague my sleep with pain? How was I to again bind myself to a male, when all knew what strange concepts of honor they held?

“I am a war leader of Midanna,” said I at last, knowing it would be necessary to find another path from the chains. “No war leader may pledge herself to taking up weapons only at the bidding of another. Protect your brothers well, male, for they shall require such protection when I have freed myself from these chains.”

I then turned my face from him, yet was sight unnecessary to know of the anger which took him.

“Of all the stubborn females I have ever encountered—!” he began in a rasp, chopping the words short with difficulty before beginning upon a new tack. “And not a hint of a demand from her to honor the debt I owe! Likely she believes I will not honor it, for I am—male! By the dripping sword of vengeance of Sigurr the Mighty! What am I to do?”

He turned then and strode from the platform, reached the hanging of silk and turned again, then strode back. Back and forth did the male go, from platform to hanging and back again, his anger great, yet not so great as his agitation. Truly did his thoughts seem in a turmoil, yet I understood none of his difficulty. Above all things save Mida did a warrior owe her loyalty to her clan and sisters; to accept personal dishonor was preferable to betraying them. To believe that I would demand—or expect—Mehrayn to betray his own merely because his life was saved through my efforts was foolishness. Had our positions been reversed, I certainly would not have freed him to cause havoc among my own. The male, it appeared, sought to satisfy all concerned, a matter more easily conceived of than executed. A number of reckid passed with deep thought upon him, then he returned once again to stand himself above me.

“Very well,” said he, decision firm in his voice and eyes. “I cannot abandon you here, nor may I set you free. As you do not care to be parted from your word, we shall see if being parted from your freedom is preferable. I will take you into my own household as a slave.”

“Jalav is no slave,” I growled, discovering that I again pulled at the chains which held me. “Beware, male, lest you discover this to your sorrow.”

“Indeed?” said he, raising a brow in annoyance. “Inasmuch as appearances are concerned, Jalav is much of a slave. If you are free, wench, close your ankles and hide from me the sight of your most delicate softness. I find the view most enjoyable, yet if you are free, you may take it from me.”

In anger did I attempt to move my ankles, yet such a thing the chains would not allow. Amusement touched the features of Mehrayn, lightening the anger which had been upon him.

“And your breasts seem brightly painted for one who is free,” he said, reaching a finger out toward me. “I seem to recall a much lighter red from the time of our—”

Again his words ended abruptly, yet this time the cause was not from anger within. His fingers had taken hold of the tip of my breast, and when his thumb had come to caress me, I could not halt the hardening and tightening of my flesh. A shiver ran through me to reignite the flame, not yet dead, caused by the other males, and this the male was immediately able to see.

“Your flesh responds,” said he with a frown, reaching forward with his free hand to take my other breast. “I had not thought to see it so, and yet—there is no mistake.”

“Mehrayn, no!” I whispered, beginning to writhe from the touch of his hands. “I am not a slave! You may not take me so!”

“Lovely Jalav,” he murmured, a chuckle in his tone as one hand left my breast for my thighs. “A wench such as you need not be slave to be taken by men. I burned for your use from the moment I first laid eyes upon you, keeping from you only through the demands of honor. Honor no longer demands that I keep away.”

Much did I wish to demand that he leave me be, yet his hand between my thighs had rendered me speechless. No more than the ability to gasp was left me, my head thrown back against the chain, and suddenly was Mehrayn above me, his face very near to mine.

“I give unending thanks to Sigurr for having restored you, wench,” he murmured, his manhood positioned so that it did no more than torment me. “As I offer up my prayers, accept my use without thought of that which holds you here before me, for I would have had you with or without them.”

His lips came to me fiercely yet briefly, and then did his head raise so that he might look upon the candle which burned upon the wall behind me.

“Mighty Sigurr, hear me!” he called, his hands now stroking my sides. “I, Mehrayn, your loyal warrior, give thanks for your blessings and approval, and special thanks for the wench beneath me. Through her use do I fulfill my obligations of devotion, bringing forth the juices of her body to dedicate to your unequaled prowess. Come the fey I am unable to so dedicate a female to you, I will know I no longer have the privilege of such use and give over my position of favor to another. Till then I shall draw all I may from the vessels of my devotion, knowing I am sustained through your pleasure at the dedication. This one is Jalav, truly worthy of use a wench you, yourself, may have tasted. Should this be so, I thank you for having sent her to me, and shall not fail you in your expectations.”

The eyes of the male then came to me, fierce and bright as his hands covered my breasts.

“All females are desirable in the sight of Sigurr,” said he, much as though he spoke words already spoken many times before. “Even more desirable is the sight of a female put to use, for in such a way does she serve Sigurr and his warriors. To writhe upon his altar is the highest service a female may perform for the great god, therefore are you to rejoice as I take your use in dedication to him. Rejoice wench, and exult in your blessed privilege for no man may serve as you do, to the center of your very soul.”

Perhaps I failed to rejoice as bidden, yet was it beyond me to keep from writhing. The hands at my breasts sent lightning all through me, causing me to wrench at the merciless cuffs of metal, the torment begun at the center of my being increased by no more than the introduction of his desire. Hoarsely I panted as I attempted to capture him to soothe my need, yet was I not so soon to be soothed.

“Ah, Sigurr, feel the warmth and heat of her!” cried the male, truly taken up in the act he performed. “The flow of moisture from her is so great, I find it nearly impossible to keep from plunging deep! Sustain me, great god, sustain me so that I may take her in accordance with your tenets!”

I knew not the meaning of the words he spoke, yet I knew well enough the near-insanity he caused me to feel. So slowly did he enter me that I screamed with madness, the need I had felt earlier a mere nothing in comparison. His hands came to my thighs and hips, keeping me from frenzied movement, the strength in them more like metal than flesh. Again I screamed, madness encompassing all, and then he was fully within, filling me with torment rather than release.

“The wench is now mine, Sigurr!” cried the male, great strain evident in the hoarseness of his voice, the tensions of his body. “I restrain my desire a moment out of deference to your greatness, a bowing to your power. Now—I am able to restrain myself—no longer.”

With a great gasp the hands of the male released me, and then came the storm, the avalanche, the torrent I had been seeking. My need, though great, was fully matched by the need of the male, and we continued on for an uncountable time before the torrent eased. I, so far beyond the end of my strength that I could do no more than moan, stirred feebly as the male above me chuckled.

“It seems I have found the one sure method of silencing that sharp tongue of yours, wench,” said he, continuing the stroke of his desire with lazy movements of his hips. “Indeed must Sigurr be pleased, to have had such writhings from you. Even now, well used and much spent, you cannot deny the demands of my body. You are a wench made for much use by men, one of those who are helpless in their possession.”

The flash of anger I felt was dulled by exhaustion, my effort toward struggle little more than the stirring I had accomplished a moment earlier. Even so, the movement amply acknowledged the presence of the male within me, bringing his laughter forth as he surged with strength.

“Your effort toward anger has become a moan of yielding, little one,” he whispered, pressing his lips to my throat above the collar as his hands moved against my back where he had raised me somewhat from the platform. “You cannot deny the man who possesses you, and surely is that blessing sent by Sigurr. To match the blessing now comes the one I have withheld from you, merely to extend my own pleasure rather than through any fault of yours. The blessing is yours, for surely you have earned it.”

Then was I filled with the seed of the male, a blessing to all Midanna save their war leaders. A war leader has no need of such, for the glory of bearing daughters to her clan is denied her so that she may be ever able to lead her clan to war. To this end does a war leader chew the leaves of the dabla bush, and to such an end had I chewed them more than once. No male had the ability to give me a child, and this despite the efforts of Ceralt.

“You are as delicious as I knew you would be,” said Mehrayn, and then his lips came to mine for a long moment before he released me and withdrew. “From this time on, my devotions will be more fervent than ever before—and possibly more frequent than required. I shall speak to the guards about having you unchained.”

He moved from the platform and straightened his covering, then made his way to the hanging of gold silk. I felt a great need to close my eyes and lose myself in the mists of sleep, yet such a doing was not possible just then. If the chains were to be removed from me, escape might somehow become possible. Surely did I expect Mehrayn to leave the alcove, yet rather than do so, he brushed the hanging aside and called the guard to him.

“How may I assist you, Prince?” asked the black-clad male of Mehrayn as soon as they both stood within the alcove. “Was the slave less than you wished her to be? Shall I have her beaten?”

“Beating her will not be necessary,” laughed Mehrayn, clapping the other male upon the shoulder. “The slave was all you said she would be, and more to boot. She was able to deny me nothing, despite her initial unwillingness.”

“I see the fight has been taken out of her,” chuckled the male, turning to gaze down upon me. “It will undoubtedly be some time before she attempts the life of another slave handler.”

“Before she what?” demanded Mehrayn, the amusement suddenly gone from him. “How could such a thing have come to be?”

“The man was a fool,” said the guard, shaking his head in disgust. “Anyone with eyes could see that she is scarcely your usual slave, eager yet timid, frightened and confused. The fool turned his back on her, giving her the opportunity to put her shackles about his throat. Had my brother warrior and I not been present, she would have taken his life.”

“I find myself scarcely surprised,” sighed Mehrayn, joining the other in head shaking. “The incident does no more than firm the resolve I made earlier. Never before have I exercised my right to claim a temple slave for personal use, yet now I shall do so. I will have this slave unchained so that I might take her with me.”

“This one, Prince?” asked the male, surprise and disapproval clearly upon him. “You would release her in your household, to do Sigurr knows what? Wisest would be to enjoy her here, where your safety need not be jeopardized.”

“I thank you for your concern over my safety, warrior,” said Mehrayn, his voice exceedingly soft as he folded his arms across his chest. “However, I feel I must ask a clarification of one point. Am I correct in believing you think I require protection from a wench? A wench who is stripped naked and who stands nearly a head below me?”

“That was not my meaning, Prince!” said the other male at once, a visible paling of his skin to be seen. “I merely meant that she was— That is, that you are— That she and you—”

“Enough,” laughed Mehrayn, unfolding his arms so that he might strike the shoulder of the guard male a second time. “Despite all, your meaning is quite clear, and I shall indeed be wary. Let us now unchain her.”

The second male, remaining quite skeptical, left the area briefly to return with two lengths of leather. I had hoped that the chains would be removed before any other restraints were considered, yet was the guard male too wary to act in so offhand a manner. On the moment he and Mehrayn released my ankles from the cuffs, the guard male immediately bound them together with one of the lengths of leather, knotting the strip tight. Mehrayn took no notice of this act, as he left my ankle as soon as it was uncuffed and moved to my throat. A brief moment saw the collar opened and removed, and then did he reach above my head for my wrists.

“By the black sand of the Caverns of the Doomed!” growled Mehrayn when he had gathered my hair from about my arms and hands. “See what she has done to herself from struggling against the bracelets! The bruises have already darkened, and it is Sigurr alone whom we must thank that she does not bleed!”

“Truly, the wench is a wild one,” agreed the guard male, leaving my ankles to come toward my wrists. “I shall bind her tightly so that she does not escape or injure herself further. To use an injured wench detracts from a man’s pleasure.”

Mehrayn’s face tightened and his eyes grew hard, yet the words he had been about to speak went unuttered. His lips closed briefly, as though he fought within himself, and then did he put a hand out toward the guard male.

“I shall bind her,” said he, seemingly displeased with all about him. “It is true I have no wish to see her free at this moment, yet are there other considerations which I shall not speak of.”

With surprise touching him, the guard male yielded up the leather, then did both of the males free my wrists. I attempted to struggle free despite the leather about my ankles, yet was I turned face down and my arms forced behind me. Fully did I expect my wrists to be tied then, but only my hands were bound, the thumbs last and separately from the fingers. I had never before been bound in such a manner, yet did it prove most effective. Though my wrists were free, I could not separate my hands.

“I will take her now,” said Mehrayn, turning me again so that I now sat upon the platform. “Do you by chance know what became of her breech?”

“She was brought here as you see her, Prince,” shrugged the guard male, and then did curiosity touch him. “What gives you to know she wore a breech?”

“The Sword knows many things, my friend,” said Mehrayn, his voice and expression uninflected as he gazed upon the other male. “Warriors would do well to understand this.”

“Indeed, Prince,” answered the guard male in a faint voice, his skin paling again as it had earlier. “Indeed do we understand this. ”

“Excellent,” grunted Mehrayn, already bending to me, a twinkle hidden in his eye. No more than a brief instant had I to see him, for he took me about the waist, raised me from the platform, and slung me over his left shoulder. “I shall require your assistance in donning my sword at the portal,” said he to the guard male as I foolishly attempted struggle. Had I succeeded in freeing myself from his arm about my legs, surely would I have fallen to the gold-colored floor cloth with a solid thump. “I shall be able to draw and wield the sword if necessary, yet donning it is another matter.”

“It is my privilege to assist you, Prince,” replied the guard male, no longer in a place where I might see him. Craning my neck about was idle, for all I was able to see was the great mass of my hair, falling before my face with no more than one or two small gaps. Mehrayn then began to move, to the hangings and through them, and we descended the two broad steps to the floor area, crossing it swiftly. At the entrance to the large area we halted, where an arm moved past beneath my hair after a moment, a broad leather belt held in the hand. When the hand withdrew, a plain, wide-hilted sword was visible upon Mehrayn’s hip, near enough to reach easily—had I not been tied. Mehrayn shifted the sword hilt considerably forward, toward his right hand, just as the guard male spoke.

“It would be best, Prince, if you were to hold her hair as well,” said he, gathering my hair between both of his hands. “It sweeps the floor behind you, and may conceivably cause a misstep or fall.”

“I had not realized that,” said Mehrayn, taking the hair in his left hand before returning his arm to its position about my legs. “My thanks, warrior.”

“It is an honor to serve you, Prince,” returned the male as we moved through the entry into the outer corridor. “I wish you much pleasure with the slave. ”

“I wish myself no less,” muttered Mehrayn, striding up the corridor I was barely able to see. “It is to be hoped that Sigurr wishes me no less.”

The words of the male made little sense to me; filled with anger and annoyance as I was, the presence or lack of sense in the male made little difference. I hung head down over his shoulder, unable to free myself, unable to do more than feel the fury of insult when his free right hand came to my bottom and stroked gently. Had I been free, the caress would have made me smile; bound as a slave, I wished only to snarl.

One corridor led to another, and a third to a fourth, each traversed quickly and quietly. Just as quietly were we suddenly without the large dwelling into the outside darkness, treading steps and then a smooth path across the black stone. Those folk who had earlier lined the ways no longer seemed in evidence, and Mehrayn, too spoke no words. To my great surprise my lids grew heavier and blinked slowly to the rhythm of the pace Mehrayn kept, even and steady yet unhurried. I attempted to rekindle anger to fend off the waves of sleep which pursued me, yet did I find that my anger was already asleep, first victim to the great weariness I felt. I stirred faintly where I hung, my gaze captured by the movement of Mehrayn’s legs, stride and stride and stride and stride and stride . . .

Between one stride and another, the flight from sleep was done.