17

Orion had not eaten in days. It was spring once again, and he was working in the mines, a sentence that
he had to live with for a month. It had not even been his fault this time, it had just been an accident. But business was not going well these last months for Blackmoor, and it put him in a foul mood.

The cub had been working in the kitchen, helping the cooks prepare supper for all the slaves in the
complex since all the low ranking ones that was. The higher ranking ones were fed a better grade of food than the
lower ones. Hyder was cleaning dishes for the meal and Orion was helping peel potatoes. he liked potatoes,
and was glad that they would be fed them.

He had snitched a couple pieced as he peeled them, and those in the kitchen didn't mind. They weren't
the type to tattle. Had Gresh been there, now he would have tattled. Gresh was a suck-up slave who always
did exactly as he was told to get in good with Blackmoor. It usually worked too. Even if something was not
Orion's fault when dealing with the slave, he was usually the one punished, not Gresh.

But he was not here.

Tamarin, the simian that Hyder had gotten into a fight with was there as well, and the simian had made
friends with Hyder and Orion the next day, and for next few weeks they had spent time getting to know each
other. Although they were not together as much, as Tamarin was so much older, they were friends.

Orion was watching the simian juggle three glasses with combined admiration and fear. If Tamarin
dropped them he'd be in big trouble. But he didn't, and everyone in the kitchen applauded. "If i did that,
I'd break them all," Orion said in Plundaarian. The child now used the native language almost more than Basic.
He had forgotten all he had learned of his own native language.

Tamarin grinned at him as the adult Orion had been helping set the potatoes on the stove to cook. it was
a huge pot, and it had taken a while to get them all peeled.

"Let me try," Orion said, then as Tamarin handed him the glasses, quickly amended, "With something
that won't break." boy, he could imagine the consequences for that!

Tamarin shook his head. "Chicken," he said, but he did get some plastic cups for the cub to try, two at
first. "Here let me show you how with only two cups."

And so for the next hour or so, while the food that had been prepared cooked, Tamarin showed Orion
how to juggle. The awkward child had difficulty though, and he did not think that he would ever get the hang of
it.

But finally, with only the two cups, Orion managed to execute a couple of turn arounds with the items,
and laughed as the others applauded the feat.

"What the hell is this?!" demanded a voice. Blackmoor...who had come to check on the slaves in the
kitchen as he did every night. Most of the work his taskmasters did, but he shared equally in this particular task.

Startled, Orion dropped the cups and stumbled backwards, bumping into the stove, his face paling,.
would the jackal be mad at him? he also felt pretty foolish, being caught clowning around. the whole kitchen
was silent...

...that is until the cook hissed a curse and lunged for the stove. Orion did not know what he was doing
until he turned and his eyes widened. The pot of potatoes was teetering on the edge of the stove; his shoulder
had hit it just right, and had pushed it towards the edge.

But the cook wasn't fast enough, and the pot crashed to the ground, Everyone winced.

Finally the silence was broken when Orion swallowed hard and backed hastily away, stammering an
apology.

Blackmoor ignored the near frantic stuttering, and drew his fist back, punching Orion square in the
face. "You worthless shit," he growled, his voice a tone of disgust.

Orion yelped sharply as he staggered against the wall. he put a hand to his face, discovering that his
nose and lip were bleeding. His head rocked back again as Blackmoor struck him a second time, making them
bleed even more. The young slave cowered in the corner, his hands over his head, feeling the eyes of the other
slaves while he listened to the cruel words his mater spewed.

In Plundaarian, a language that Orion now spoke fluently and was Blackmoor's own tongue, he
proceeded to tear Orion down. Plundaarian was so much more effective at this than basic. "You're the clumsiest
damned slave in this whole complex! If I had a mate that spawned a child as stupid as you, I'd have killed it at
birth!"

The fist blows had not hurt all that badly. COmpared to some of the punishments he had taken, they
were easily tolerable. but silent tears made their way down his face. he tried to tell himself often that he
didn't care what Blackmoor and his goons thought...but no mater how much he hated them, their words hurt.

He heard over and over how worthless he was. How stupid and clumsy. And he usually believed it. The young
Thunderian had all but forgotten the kind lecture his father had given him on worth...he dreamed of it occasionally, but it was lost in wakefulness in the harsh cruel reality he lived in.

"You sniveling shit. Well?" Blackmoor demanded, whapping him upside the head "Quit blubbering,
you worthless crybaby. What do you have to say, you piece of dung?"

Not looking up, Orion said in a little voice, "I-I'm s-sorry, M-Master...I-I won't do it again, I promise..."

Blackmoor gave a snort of derision. "Of course you'll do it again, wretch. You're too stupid not to."

"I-I'm sorry..." Orion repeated, trying valiantly to stop his tears. But however valiant, the attempt was
failed.

"That's not enough, brat," Blackmoor hissed. he grabbed the cub's mane and forced the boy to look at
him. "That's a large pot of food you just spoiled. The slaves don't want to eat food that's been spilled on the
floor." Of course this was not exactly true. Most of the salves did, or had at one time or another, eaten food
that was far worse than having been spilled on the kitchen floor. Some had eaten spoiled food, foul tasting
food, watery gruel...this was not a matter of spoiled food. Blackmoor smiled inwardly, pleased at the way
Orion shrank back in fear. Blackmoor nodded. "Clean it up, Orion. To make up for the wasted food, you will
go without the next few days. You will eat again when I say you can."

Orion had scrambled to complete the cleaning task, and now looked up at Blackmoor's sentence, hastily
looking back down. Blackmoor had not told him to look up.

"If you're caught eating anything before I say you can, fifteen lashes and an extra two days' fast. Is that
understood, brat?"

"Y-yes, Master," Orion whispered, his eyes to the floor.

"Good. Then report to the mines, you're there for a month." Blackmoor left, and Orion continued his
task.

"Well what a jerk," Tamarin grumbled, and knelt by Orion. "You okay? Sorry...I didn't mean to get
you in trouble."

"It's okay; it's my fault," Orion said, sniffing, and wiping his face. His nose was still bleeding.

"Here." the young simian retrieved a paper towel and handed it to the young Thunderian.

"Thanks," Orion said, and blew his nose into the towel. It got some of the blood out, but didn't stop it
from bleeding.

"No, no, that's not what I meant you to do with it...haven't you ever had a bloody nose before?"

"F-From Master Blackmoor...."

"Yeah, and I bet he didn't do anything to help, either. Come here." Tamarin got another paper towel
and gently squeezed Orion's nose with it, tilting the child's head back. At first Orion resisted, panicked,
thinking Tamarin was going to cut off his air. But then he breathed through his mouth, and he was okay. He
trusted Tamarin well enough.

After a few moments, the bleeding had stopped, and Tamarin let go. "That better?"

Orion looked down and nodded. "Thanks."

"Yeah...better get to the mines before Buttmore gets mad at you."

Not even laughing at the improvised insult, Orion nodded and left the kitchen.

And so this day he still worked in the mines. He had not yet eaten in six days, and was growing
desperate with hunger. Although the taskmasters had been told Orion was not to be denied water (if he asked
correctly) while he worked, it did little to still his stomach's insistence that he feed it. It didn't stop the cramps
or the nausea. He had begged to be given something to eat, and been laughed at, and told to get to work unless
he wanted a thrashing. Orion had gotten to work.

"Hey," came a voice, at lunch break. Orion was allowed to rest, but not eat. He looekd to see Tamarin
next to him; he had not even seen his friend in the mine that morning. The simian looked furtively around,
then extended a sandwich towards the cub. "Hurry up...before they see you..."

Orion bit his lip, and nearly took the sandwich. It was so tempting, and he was so hungry... But at last,
he recalled Blackmoor's words. And he knew that he would rather go hungry than take a beating from
Blackmoor. The child looked down and shook his head. "Thank you," he whispered, as he was grateful for
the offer.

Tamarin nodded and set the sandwich aside. he decided that he wouldn't eat it in front of his friend;
he could wait until supper. "I don't blame you, hoo, hoo."

On the afternoon of the seventh day, Blackmoor came to watch the little cat. the jackal had no work of
his own to do, no paperwork, no overseeing, no selling or trading. And so he entered the mine, eating a largish
sandwich. The child looked back at him, the want in his eyes unhidden as he looked at the food.

"Did I say you could stop working?" Blackmoor's voice was calm, matter of fact, but Orion's reaction
was to hastily turn away and resume his work. He shook as he worked, weakened form his bout of starvation.

"That's better." Blackmoor leaned against the wall, being deliberately noisy as he ate. The taskmaster that had
been assigned the mine snickered softly.

Orion started to silently cry, not able to help it. Across the way, Tamarin watched angrily. "M-master,
please let me eat," Orion whispered. "Please? Please?"

Blackmoor kicked the child, sending him into the wall. "Did you speak to me slave? Without me talking to you first?"

Orion cringed, covering his head in case Blackmoor decided to beat him for it. "I-I'm s-sorry, master,"
he stammered.

Blackmoor had no intention of beating Orion for it; he was merely playing with the child's head. It
further reinforced the relationship; master and slave. "You want to eat, wretch?" After a moment's hesitation,
Orion whispered his answer. "Have you been behaving?"

Another answer in the affirmative, and Orion timidly uncurled, and looekd warily at Blackmoor's feet.
he didn't dare look up.

"Look at me, brat." Orion did so. "Get on your knees." Again, immediate obedience. "How badly do
you want to eat, Orion?"

Orion was silent for a second, not sure how to reply. he didn't know what Blackmoor wanted here. But
finally, he stammered, "V-very b-badly, M-master..."

Blackmoor thought a moment, then said, "Lick my boot, Orion. Lick it clean...then I will let you eat."

Orion blinked, and even looked up at Blackmoor in shock. "L-l-lick y-your b-boot...M-master...?" he
asked in a little voice.

Blackmoor got an ugly scowl on his face. "Are you defying me, Orion?"

Orion immediately looked down and swallowed hard. "N-no, M-master Blackmoor...but-but..."

"You must not want to eat all that badly, wretch." He sounded angry, but was not, really. Inwardly, he
smiled in cruel amusement at Orion's terrified subservience. "You must want a beating for defying me."

The child began crying harder, silent, as always, and crouched lower on the ground. "N-n-no, M-m-master, please..."

Blackmoor put his foot in front of the cub's face. "Then do as I say, slave. Now."

Trembling, tears streaming form his face, Orion bit his lip and slowly lowered his head. Grimacing, the
child stuck his tongue out and began to lick Blackmoor's boot. His rough feline tongue was made for cleaning,
and began to take the dirt and dust and who knew what else off the slaver's boot. The child felt ill, and his pale face burned red from humiliation. On the other side of the mine, Tamarin looked away in disgust.

After a few moments, although his boot was far from clean, Blackmoor drew his boot away. He had
achieved his directive. The slaver kicked Orion lightly in the face. "That's enough, wretch. i don't want your
dirty feline tongue on my boot any more." He made a face of sheer disgust. "Disgusting little cur. Here, eat."
Blackmoor dropped his sandwich on the ground. "If you're very good the rest of the day and tomorrow, you
might have supper tomorrow night." With that, Blackmoor stalked out.

Looking fixedly at the floor, trying to ignore the jeers of the taskmaster, Orion reached out and picked
the sandwich off of the dirt. it was more than half gone, and had soil clinging to it, but Orion didn't care.

Clutching it and retreating back to the wall like a starving stray dog who has found a scrap of meat, Orion ate
the rest of Blackmoor's sandwich.

At the guard's less-than-kind insistence, Orion went back to work. In his shame, he refused to look at
anyone.

Chapter 18

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