Kingdom Born

Chapter 9: The Master

I awoke naked, cold and still cuffed. The mustiness was still clouding my head and there was a dull ache in my back but that was to be expected. The pain in my chest was another matter. It felt like my heart had been ripped from me.

"So the sleeping beauty awakes." This was the deepest voice I had ever hear

Looking up, a hulk of a man, sitting in a chair close to a blazing fireplace, leaned forward appraising me as if I was some horse for sale. As he looked at me, I returned his calatogu¬ing gaze. His eyes were permanently narrowed as if he was used to squinting into the sun. His hands were large and crosshatched with deep and clean scars. Even though he was dressed in brightly coloured silks he didn't look comfortable in them. This man was a warrior. I brought my eyes back up to study his face as his eyes lingered over the rest of my body. There was a long scar starting near the end of his left brow that extended all the way down to his jawline. His yellow hair, closer to white, was cut shorter than the way Karl normally wore his. 'Kingdom Man' was stamped all over him.

"Where am I?" I lay still. The metal cuffs were still tightly locked around my wrists making movement difficult and it would only be an indignity to writhe around in front of this man.

"In my quarters." He leaned back, templed his fingers in front of his face as if he was deciding something, "Don't you have anything else you would like to know?"

"Where's my husband?"

"I didn't know your kind married." His deep voice rumbled out of his chest.

"My kind?"

"Warrior women. I would have thought that you would take what you could get." His voice was amused.

"Why am I chained?"

"Because Righthander said that you would try to kill me if I didn't. I gathered she knew something of your skill in weapons. I have seen some of your women fight and a few of them would be a match for our boys in training." He crossed his long legs at the ankles.

"Then you have never seen a Daughter." I met his gaze squarely. I was unashamed of my body. The Goddess had granted me a physique that allowed me to do what I wanted, and all she demanded in return was the honour of her gifts.

"I've seen Kayla in exhibition and she is someone to look out for. Her ranking is Second Daughter if I remember correctly. Misha said that you were a First Daughter. You're claiming to be just as good."

"Better."

He tossed back his head and laughed. "Righthander said that you would have spirit. Harris!" A door opened beyond my sight but the coldness wafting in from the corridor set me to chill. "Tell our good hostess that I"ll pay the gold she's asking. Send to the ship for a gown, a green one."

"Aye milord."

Milord? I twisted onto my back so my neck wouldn't strain so much to look at him, "Why would a kingdom man want to involve himself in slavery?"

He leaned forward, his icy gaze still centred on me, "As I understand, a woman banished - for whatever crime - is outside the Law. In fact, she is no longer a citizen due of any consideration. I don't know what you did to be come lawless, Phara, what you did doesn't matter. It's what you will do from now on that concerns me."

What Misha had counselled this man on was a strict interpreta¬tion of the Third Law of the Goddess, but the Order had been more lenient with it for the last twenty years. I needed more infor¬mation. Where was I? Where was Karl? The only answers I would be getting would be from this man.

"You seem to know my name. What is yours?"

"Master." He leaned back in his chair again.

I said nothing. Chained and naked, I was not about to be drawn into an argument that was demeaning and shameful.

"I own your life, Lawless." His words were tinged with too much possessiveness, I broke from my intended silence.

"My life is a gift from the Goddess. When she wants it returned to her she will take it no matter who claims ownership."

"The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away. Still, I will be your master, in deed and with words. I won't get into your training until we set sail for home."

"Who are you?"

"Matthais Sanderson, Son of Mitchell Sander, heir to the Thane of the Northern Stronghold. We'll be shipping out on the morning tide.

The man sat back in his chair and just inspected me as if I were some rare treasure that he had acquired. My eyes searched the richly decorated room but there were no windows to let me gauge the time. For all I knew, dawn was breaking on us. I berated myself for making our capture so easy. I had never even secured our room before I lay down.

There was a polite knock on the door. "Enter!" Sanderson bellowed with his deep voice.
I could feel Sanderson's eyes centre on me to check out my reaction to being naked -- as if I could do anything about it. All my scars and bruises were a badge of honour that at times had been foolishly earned and highly rewarded.

From my position on the floor, I watched small boyish feet pause at the door. I stretched my neck up as high as I could and looked at the newcomer. He was about twelve...maybe thirteen years but his eyes looked far older than that. "Master, I have brought the meal that you requested."

"Excellent. Set it down and leave us."

"Master, I was sent to help you tend to your..." his eyes flicked embarrassedly over me, "woman."

"I need no help from any one on how I should treat my slave. Leave. I won't repeat it again."
The boy flinched as he bowed his head at the sound of Sanderson leaving his chair. He fled the room

"I like you already. A woman from my homeland would be carrying on about indecency." The large man walked to the plate and began to look over the warm meal. The aroma sent my stomach into loud growls of hunger.

"I do not like being here on display, but at the moment there is little I can do about it."

"True....here." Sanderson dangled a strip of cooked beef in front of my face.

I jerked my head backwards, "I am not an animal."

"You're who or whatever I say you are." He leaned closer and let the meat graze my nose.
I turned my head away.

I could hear the chair creak as he settled himself back into it. "So you want to challenge me. You should know that I rarely lose. The only way you'll eat is if you take food out of my hand."

I didn't bother answering his remark.

Sanderson took my silence as some kind of victory and began eating. The sweet smells wafted down to my nose and my stomach began to make louder growling noises. The long days at sea and excessive unwanted rest were betraying my hunger. Still, I would starve to death first before I lowered myself to play the game that my 'master' intended. Sanderson dragged out his meal far longer than normal, sitting there licking his fingers and remarking on how succulent the meat was and how fresh the fruit tasted. He sounded like a vender in the streets trying to hawk her wares. There was another knock at the door while Sanderson was sucking on a peach.

"Enter." Trails of juice streamed out from his mouth down to his chin.

The boy who had brought the meal entered this time carrying a package that almost blocked the entire top of his body. "Master, this is the dress that you sent for."

"Open it."

The boy crossed to the low table near the fireplace and carefully unwrapped the package. I watched as his eyes widened. He pulled out reams of material the rich colour of algae on the sea then a bright purple cloak and an assortment of jewellery. The boy absently rubbed his fingers on the dress. "This is beautiful...the most beautiful cloth that I have ever seen, Master."

"I came here under the strict orders of my Liege to set up favourable trading relations by any means. If I had known what kind of women I could find here, I wouldn't have protested as much." Sanderson sat himself back in his chair, "My father told me to bring back something that tickled my fancy; somehow I don't think that this is what he meant."

“The Mistress sent these to you as well." The boy pulled a gold chain from his kilt, dangling from the end was a key, that no doubt fit my cuffs.

"Leave us." The boy regretfully laid the dress aside, then left the room.

Sanderson held the key in his hands and stared at it with deliberate silence. His eyes were those of warrior rationalizing the path of destruction that could not be avoided. An invisible cold hand clenched around my stomach and squeezed tight. Trust up like a pig there was little I could do to defend myself from any kind of attack. Suddenly Sanderson knelt down, quicker that I would have expected from a man of his size. His hands reached out and trapped my face. "You are so beautiful...don't fight me, Phara. I only want to touch you gently." He pressed his lips against mine, thrusting his tongue past my lips, demanding submission...

He didn't expect my head butt to his forehead nor my double knee jerk into his groin. He groaned in pain but grabbed at my breasts, twisting them hard enough to make me gasp out in pain. I aimed another double footed kick at his groin. He twisted aside and caught my full blow on the hip. His hands reached for me again. I bit him hard on the tender part of his hand between his thumb and forefinger. Blood flooded my mouth. Pain exploded in my head as he shook me loose onto the hard stone floor.

Rolling away onto his back, he nursed his wounded pride and bleeding hand. "I want you because of your spirit. I would rather not break it but I will have you obey me. I am your lord and master. I demand respect..."

My breasts throbbed in agony as I struggled onto my knees. I may be chained but I was no slave.

"Respect is earned. A man who thinks nothing of forcing another into slavery knows nothing of respect." I let my disgust and anger temper my voice.

"Free men and women earn respect. Slaves, your word not mine, are expected to give it. They give it or they get lashed. I can see from your other scars that you value hard lessons. Boy!" Sanderson climbed to his feet and grimaced holding his crotch. I envied his ease of movement as I felt the metal cuffs pinch my wrists. The iron tang of his blood filled my mouth. Right now I hated this man with every fibre of my being.

The young man came back into the room, bowed lowly, then entered, "Master?"

Sanderson eased himself into the chair. "Dress her...you'll be able to get the clothes on her without having the to undo the chains.”

"Master, it would be easier to do if she were on the bed or at least sitting up." Isaac cringed as Sanderson groaned slowly, stood up and walked back to us. Sanderson lifted me off the floor, turning a pale shade of grey, and sweat beaded his forehead. I expected him to toss me hard on the silk covered bed but he shocked me as he settled me on it with the care a mother would have with a newborn babe.

"Fix her hair so it doesn't hang in her face. There is no reason for her to hide such a lovely face behind a red curtain."

My stomach made a low rumble. The boy looked startled, "Master did I bring enough food for you?"

"More than enough. I couldn't finish it. Take it back to the kitchens when you leave."

"The lady..."

"She will eat when I say she does."

The boy shivered under the stern glare. "Yes, master."

"I have some other business to take care of. I'll be back in a short while so don't take too long. I just might bring back some of my mates to look over my new acquisition." Sanderson brought his wounded hand up to inspect it and sucked the flowing blood from it. Painfully he strapped a wide broadsword around his waist, walked to the door, then looked back towards me. "I never dreamed there were women like you, Phara."

He turned and pulled the door shut after himself.

The boy grabbed up the dress from the table and carried it over to me.

Carefully I spoke, making sure that none of my anger and frustration were aimed at him. Only the Goddess knew what kind of life this poor boy had here. "Where are my other clothes?"

"I don't know. I didn't see you until I came here." He turned a deep shade of red and tried to find somewhere to look other than my naked body. Even though I was chained and naked against my free will, I felt dirty - corrupting the morals of a youth.

"Here." He had his eyes shut as he opened the dress and tried to slide it up my legs. I didn't want to wear this thing, but the red faced shame of the boy forced me to wriggle into it. It cut tight against my hips, waist and breasts - too tight for comfort - then flared out into reams of wasted material at my legs and sleeves. "Can you free me?"

"Don't talk like that." The boy suddenly became engrossed with the way my opened sleeves were to be tied.

"What is your name?"

"Isaac." His words were curt and his movements were like that of a tiny bird, quick flittering movements.

"You have a last name?"

"I have none." He turned around and pulled out the heavy golden jewellery. He paused to admire a delicate hair clip, running his fingers over the smooth surface.

"Were you born a slave?" I gentled my tone.

"No." He avoided my gaze.

"Then you have a last name."

"It would bring shame on my family if I were to use it." He twisted away, reaching for a comb and brush.

My stomach growled louder. Isaac sat still holding the brush and comb silently debating something before he tossed them aside and went to the half empty tray. He came back and set the food near my head expected me to eat. My stomach roared even louder as my nose whiffed the aroma of the beef strips and warm bread. I had to turn my head away.

Isaac shifted from foot to foot. "Why don't you eat? You're hungry."

"I will eat when I am free to do so like a woman, not an animal." Isaac flushed again. I hadn't meant to insult him, "I thank you for your consideration, Isaac." His eyes stared at the meat dishes and candied fruits. "Go ahead and eat."

He tore into the food with the passion of a starving puppy. Judging from his appearance he was given enough food to live but not enough to strengthen. What kind of place was this?

He stuffed his face full of meat as quickly as he could as if expecting someone to walk in on us. I struggled to sit up. I had to settle for laying on my side, "Isaac, I was brought in with a man. Brown hair, cut short around the ears, grey eyes. As tall as I."

He stopped chewing and looked at me with sorrowful brown eyes, "He is proving his worth."

I didn't like the sound of it. "What?"

"He is the bed reward for good service."

Rage burnt through me bowling under the petty aches and pains of my imprisonment. How dare she! "Free me."

"I can't"

"Free me!" I pulled against my cuffs, enjoying the way the metal bit deeply into my flesh. "He's my husband!"

Isaac hopped off the bed and stared at me as if he was encountering a hoodless Badlander. He paled, all the blood that had been gushing to his face drained away. "How can you have a husband? The Writ of...."

He snapped a hand over his mouth.

"Writ of what?" I struggled on the bed and succeeded in getting tangled in the green folds of my slave dress.

"That only a Writ of Criminal can be given is if the offender is single and childless. That is the Law."

"I'm no criminal."

"I don't know that." He whispered back, his voice screeching and raw.

I calmed my voice and looked him in the eyes. "My name is Phara Longsword and I am from a village three day's ship journey from here. My husband's name is Karl. Kayla...." Isaac flinched at the sound of her name, "attacked us in our rooms at an inn in the city below. Now she plans on selling me to that...Kingdom man and she is holding my husband as a brothelman. Help me."

"I can't. I'm sorry..." Isaac turned around and ran from the room.