The Slave (Free Men Book 1)(2)

The bidding commenced, and I found myself raising my hand before I even  considered the folly of what I was doing, earning evil looks from the  underlords displeased that a slave would challenge them, even in a  situation such as this. I squared my shoulders, mindful that it was not  I, Tamelik, slave, who was outbidding them, but my master.

The price rose steeply, the other men encouraged both by the sight of  the soldier, now prowling the edge of the Cage, glaring furiously into  the darkness before him; and by me, the slave audacious enough to  compete with them, even if it was only as my master's proxy. I began to  fear I would reach the generous limit he had set before the others  dropped out, but to my overwhelming relief, my last opponent caved as I  bid my final chit on the future of the man before me.         

     



 

Sale made, I stood through the remaining three lots, head bowed, trying  hard not to tremble as I realised the enormity of what I had done.

I waited until the others exited the auction room before I followed them  to the holding pens. Each man, having completed his agreed  transactions, was taking possession of his new property. Steaming heat  rose as metalworkers stamped each collar with the owner's motif and  affixed it around the slave's neck. The collars were requisite: strong,  thick steel that, once fastened, could only be cut off. Since my  capture, I'd had my collar changed five times as I had grown. It  wouldn't be necessary again.

I reached to it instinctively, remembering how, as a bewildered,  just-sold child, I had screamed and writhed against it. How Master had  taken me on his knee and patted me while the metalworker completed his  task and Mistress rolled her eyes at us both. I had been bought for her,  a pet, but from the first, I'd always been my master's slave. The five  times it had come off, I'd felt bereft.

"Bought yourself a whole heap of trouble with that one." The slaver  nodded to where my new companion was thrashing in the metalworkers'  strong arms, determined not to be collared. "Hope your master knows how  to break him."

I nodded stiffly, took possession of the slave's papers, and went to see if I could ease his distress.

"It's necessary," I said in Granthian.

His eyes widened a fraction at my ability to speak his language. One of  the metalworkers took advantage of the distraction and clapped the  collar around his neck. He roared his displeasure, throwing off two of  the men who held him as he fought like a madman against it being sealed.  More metalworkers piled in, suppressing him by dint of brute strength  and numbers.

"It's necessary," I repeated, squatting to meet his eye where he lay,  held down by many hands. He squeezed his lids shut as they began welding  the collar closed.

"Who says this is necessary?"

"The law requires it."

"I don't care about your stinking laws. This isn't happening to you." He glared at me, eyes blazing.

I drew the neck of my robe aside. "It did once."

That stilled him long enough for the men to do their work and release  him, retreating hastily. He tried to spring to his feet, the movement  abruptly halted by a short, stout chain linking his collar to the floor.  It must have hurt when it jolted him back down, but he made no sound.  On his hands and knees, head down, he began to tremble ever so slightly.  Had I not been kneeling at his side, I would not have noticed. I judged  he was on the very cusp of losing control and breaking down completely.

Unsure what to do for the best, I dithered. I wanted to touch him. Every  instinct I had was screaming at me to place a hand on his shoulder,  offer him some sort of solidarity, but I had no way of knowing if that  would be welcome or if it would make him worse. I made my decision, and  with regret, I rose and walked over to the slaver.

"I need a transport."

The man raised an eyebrow, silently mocking me. "We can distribute your purchase this evening, for a fee."

"No, now. Privately." I'd heard stories of the mass transports. I wasn't  confining my new companion to one. I only hoped Master would forgive me  for exceeding his allowance.

"There is no transport leaving now." The man returned to shuffling papers.

"You know who my master is," I reminded him. "Money is no object, and he will not be happy if you refuse his request."

The trader glanced over at my soldier. "He was causing us trouble … ."

Orders were given and I returned to crouch at my companion's side. "We're leaving now. Don't fight them."

"Why not?" He glowered at me, green eyes venomous.

"They will kill you. You've come this far, don't let it end here."

The look he gave me was so bleak, my heart bled for him.

"Our master is a good man-"

"I have no master! I'm a free man." He thumped the stone floor with his fist.

I shook my head sadly. "Not anymore."





CHAPTER TWO





His papers said his name was Kai; a foot soldier with the Granthian  corps. No doubt his sale into slavery was someone's particular brand of  humiliation, or perhaps the troops who'd sold him simply needed the  money.

The transporter took us back to Master's compound on the outskirts of  Otiz, and I had Kai installed in his chamber before nightfall. Master  had seen fit to have bars placed on the windows, and the sturdy lock on  the door had been well oiled in preparation for a new arrival. Fresh  slaves took time to train and longer to trust. I listened, feeling  wretched as he systematically destroyed what sounded like every stick of  furniture in the sparse room. He would be forbidden possessions until  he learned to take care of the ones he had.         

     



 

Sasha, the cookwoman and only remaining female slave in our household,  was wide-eyed when she brought a tray of thin gruel up for him. "What  have you bought? What will Master say?"

"I don't know what came over me," I admitted. "I couldn't bear the thought of him falling into the hands of any of the others."

"If anyone can make him understand, you can." She smiled, and I warmed with affection for her.

"Let me take that." I indicated the tray. "He at least knows me."

Silence had fallen in his room when I opened the lock. I entered warily,  half expecting him to rush me in a desperate bid to escape, but instead  what I saw moved me almost to tears. He was slumped on the floor, the  furniture-as I had guessed-shattered and scattered around him. The  sheets of his bed were torn, his hands and limbs streaked with blood  from his excesses.

I entered and heard Sasha lock the door behind me. I placed the tray on  the floor and sat beside him, my knees drawn up, legs crossed at the  ankle. I had expected him to be weeping but his eyes were dry, dull and  flat like something was dead inside him, too numb even for self-pity.

"Do you want me to bring you something for those cuts?" I nodded at the  deep scratches and lacerations on his neck and chest where he had tried  to remove the collar.

He shook his head.

"Don't let them get infected."

He seemed almost to laugh at that, the sound not quite surfacing.

"I'm Tamelik. Tam. Is Kai your real name?"

He growled low, like an animal.

"Your papers say you were a soldier. What happened to you? Were you captured? By whom?"

He drew away from me, pointedly turning his back. So maybe I asked too  many questions; maybe he wasn't ready to talk about his old life just  yet.

"I was a nomad. My people came from the desert." I bit back the memories. "Our master isn't a bad man."

He turned suddenly, glaring at me. "How is it you speak my language?"

"Master let me learn. He said it would do me good to educate me."

"What use is an educated pleasureslave?" He sneered the word, like it-I-was something dirty.

"Well, it means I can talk to you," I retorted, stung. "He taught me himself."

"Your accent is terrible."

I laughed. "I'll tell Master you said that."

He snarled. "Is that a threat?"

"No." I frowned a little. "He always worried we didn't get the pronunciation right. He learnt from a book when he was a boy."

"How long have you been here?"

"More than half my life." I watched him process that. "He bought me when I was twelve. Before that I was a nomad, like I said."

"And your …  master. How old is he?"

"Our master." I smiled softly. "He is ten years older than me."

"Huh." He looked surprised. "That young?"

"He has been very successful. Some say he's the lost son of Thirsk himself."

Kai glowered darkly, unimpressed with old wives' tales.

"I brought you food."

"I'm not hungry."

I suffered him a withering look. "I don't believe you."

He glanced cursorily at the tray. "Is that what he feeds us? Gruel? I ate better in the army."

"It's just for today. After what the slavers have been feeding you, anything richer would make you ill."