Disclaimer: The Halfblood Chronicles belong to some one else. None of this belongs to you. Unless you ARE Mercedes Lackey or Andre Norton, in which case, can I have your autograph? ^_^
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V'kel Shaen Lord Kavoes drummed his fingers against his chair arm irritably. The slaves were being maddeningly slow again. Really, how long did it take to summon one slave girl? Though there was no one around to see, he worked to keep his face impassive. It was bad enough listening to the subtle taunts of his peers these past few months. He didn't want to give the slaves any ideas. He was not over-attached to that damned concubine!
Was it his fault that the Kavoes estates had been in such horrible disarray by the time the wretched old man finally died that he was still dealing with the mess today? Just like Father to keep a claw-hold on life for two years longer than his mind. Rot him. Shaen shifted angrily, forgetting his earlier intentions.
It certainly wasn't his fault Father's old concubines were in such bad condition as to fetch almost no return at the slave market. Just because he'd decided to pool his money for one decent concubine, instead of a collection of half-rated ones, didn't mean he felt anything for her. Ancestors, he wasn't a pervert!
Damn father, anyway.
Shaen shook his head and growled. He sounded like a petulant child, and he knew it. He was just in a foul mood about being maneuvered into taking that bet. What on earth would he do if he lost it? He couldn't afford to just go tossing around expensive slaves like that. He supposed he could scrape up the money to buy another if he had to. He hadn't before because, well, there were always other places that needed the money more.
Still, if I win… He smiled inwardly, treasuring the idea. That would take that smug, superior smile off Refien's face.
His attention returned to the present. Really, what was taking so long? He was going to have to see to it that somebody got lashed. He couldn't have the slaves getting lax. He drummed his fingers again, impatience growing. He was almost tempted to get up and go look himself, though the idea was ludicrous. An Elvenlord taking over a slave's job! Running around tracking down human females because his slaves were feeling lazy! Somebody was definitely going to be lashed.
He usually summoned Cwen Leaf every evening, but he had put it off yesterday, the thought of seeing her bothering him for some reason. He hoped he hadn't let the taunts get to him that much. Whatever the cause, it was perhaps as well. She would be especially eager to please him, to absolve herself of whatever guilt she had imagined the last day. The state he was in, he was looking forward to her soothing presence.
His sensitive ears picked up approaching footsteps, and he quickly hid a frown. They were the wrong weight. Resettling himself in his chair, he assumed a cold, marble face, the embodiment of a displeased lord. A middle-aged human man scurried in, bobbing anxiously several times before almost prostrating himself on the floor.
Shaen's eyes narrowed minutely. The human was one of those with a position of nominal responsibility, directly under an elven overseer. What was he doing here? "Well? Speak."
The man raised his head for one frightened glance before dropping back to his supine position. Trembling, he spoke into the floor. "My lord, the concubine can not be found. She is gone!"
"What?" Uncomprehending, Shaen reached out with his magic, feeling for the girl's collar spell. And encountered…nothing.
The slave was still talking, stammering in his attempt to respond to Shaen's earlier question. "We've scoured the whole manor, my lord; she must have run! Search teams have been out on the grounds; we-"
"Enough." Shaen cut the man's babbling short with a flick of magic. Anger blossomed white-hot behind his eyes. She would betray me?! He could feel the tingle of a levin-bolt at the ends of his fingers, and awareness that the true target of his wrath was currently unassailable only barely prevented him from striking the slave in front of him dead.
From white-hot, his rage abruptly became ice-cold, as he focused on one thought. I will find her. I will hunt her, and I will drag her back here to face the consequences. For this she will beg forgiveness on bended knee.
His voice was toneless and calm, though wintry, when he spoke. "Send Tarren to me. I want a team assembled."
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Cwen Leaf sat up, rubbing sore feet as she drew her single blanket closer about her. Last night had been a lot of firsts for her. First biscuit-jerky dinner. First night spent sleeping outside. First time to sleep on the ground. On a rock. With the bugs. This following an entire evening and day of traveling on foot and nerve-wracking hiding everytime anything human or elven came too close—which was often. That behind her was enough to make her almost too mentally and physically exhausted to sleep.
But, as Jemayne had pointed out cooly, they needed to get farther than anyone expected them to. And since, with her abilities, traveling in daylight was not impossible, travel in daylight they did. First discovery that hiding in hay is not fun, Cwen thought with sardonic humor. She rubbed her arms at the memory.
She was surprised Jemayne hadn't already woken and dragged them both off again. The girl seemed infected with a manic fervor, driving both Cwen and herself so relentlessly, that Cwen would have been worried if she had not seen her drop straight into a deep sleep afterwards. The girl was positively frightening when she set her mind to something.
She sighed, and started packing up the few items they carried with them, so that they'd be ready to leave sooner. No point changing her clothes—the only thing she had other than the borrowed tunic and loose pants she had on now was the silk dress she had been wearing. Much use I'll get out of it in these woods, she thought, digging out breakfast for the two of them.
She flinched at a scuffling noise in the trees to her right, and eyed the small, bushy-tailed source warily, relaxing only slightly. She thought it might be a squirrel—she'd read about them somewhere—but she couldn't be certain. Jemayne might know; she could recognize any animal that had been brought into the kitchen.
Could one eat squirrels? She felt a little queasy at the idea of killing something. Which is dumb, considering that I've no problem eating meat. She knew they were going to have to do something considering their limited food supply. As it was, she examined the dry biscuits and hard wedge of cheese in her hands with subdued distaste. Taking a swig from one of the water flasks, she settled down to gnaw at one of the biscuits, leaning back against a tree.
She was still applying herself to this task when she heard Jemayne roll over with a low moan. A minute later the girl was on her hands and knees, leaning away from her blankets to throw up in the grass. Cwen jumped to her feet. "Jemayne? Are you all right?"
The other girl managed a brief, scathing glance in her direction. "Peachy." Abruptly she turned away, her sides convulsing again.
Ignoring her tone, Cwen moved to kneel beside her, laying an uncertain hand on her back. She didn't have much experience with illnesses… but she was trained how to soothe people. Moving with more self-assurance, she braced Jemayne's head with gentle hands, smoothing her hair out of the way, and holding her firmly as the spasms subsided. Unaware of when she had started, she was humming a soft, lilting melody.
Finally, Jemayne's stomach seemed to have completely emptied itself, and decided it could bring up no more. Cwen released her even as she moved to push her away. Silently, she got up and passed her the water bottle to rinse her mouth out with. Jemayne accepted it, watching Cwen with a guarded, ambivalent expression. "So that's why-" she fell silent, cutting herself off. Cwen rolled her shoulders uncomfortably in the pause. "So, um, do you think it was something you ate? Some of that meat last night looked a little iffy. Or you could be sick-"
Jemayne turned away abruptly. "I'm fine. You didn't need to do that, you know. I want to be condescended to, and I don't need to be coddled. I've managed fine on my own for years, unlike some."
Cwen Leaf blinked. "I wasn't trying to…"
Jemayne continued right over her. "No need for the little elf-pet to trouble herself."
"I was just…" Cwen trailed off as the words sunk in. Her eyes tightened, but she only closed her lips and looked away. She's sick. And… after all, isn't it true? That's what you were, and that's probably all anyone will ever see you as.
As if taking her withdrawal as basis to attack, Jemayne turned back toward her. "I've seen you around the estates before. Not that someone like you would ever actually notice a common slave. Always so busy running to lick your master's feet. The way you act—still!—how am I to know you won't give us both away to the first elf who gets close enough?"
Cwen kept her eyes fastened on the ground, her voice low. "I'm not going to." She couldn't afford to get angry. (Do I have the right?) She couldn't even afford to feel hurt. What if she sends me away? Amity's not here…
Jemayne interrupted her thoughts. "I should, shouldn't I?"
The second implication of those words struck only and instant after the first made her heart fall. Her eyes narrowed. Something flared within her. "Get out of my head!" Furiously, she spun to face the other girl. "I don't care if you think I'm a burden or a threat or a cosseted fool! You have no right!"
Jemayne actually took a step back. "I have the right to protect myself," she said quietly.
"No. No you don't." Cwen's voice followed the other girl's, becoming similarly quiet, if still fierce. "Not like that. You have the right to send me off on my own, if you don't think you can trust me, but you don't have the right to go poking about in my head."
"Actually I can't." Jemayne fiddled with a lock of her short, shockingly light, blonde hair. "Go poking about I mean. I only pick up the surface thoughts." She tucked the lock away as Cwen glared at her. Then she actually flashed a grin, the first real smile Cwen had seen out of her since they had met. "But you are absolutely right. It was completely wrong of me, even if you were broadcasting quite loudly. But I did finally get to find out you've got a backbone in there somewhere." She started gathering up her belongings, oblivious to Cwen's fading anger, and growing consternation. "I figured if Amity liked you, there had to something more to you than meets the eye." She shrugged into her pack, and her demeanor became like that to which Cwen was accustomed. "Took me long enough to pry it out of you, though. The way you act… Well? What are you waiting for? Do you see how high that sun is? We are going to have to march to make up time. Get your pack."
Cwen found herself amused, and, for the first time, almost liking the girl. Still… "I want a way to know you won't be… picking up my thoughts. If I'm—broadcasting—can you teach me…"
Jemayne flashed her second smile. "See? There you go. Backbone. And now I say, 'yes, I will.' Or rather I'll try. I'm new at mind-walls myself. And in exchange, you can gather the firewood tonight." She started walking at a brisk pace, and Cwen followed. "Now lemme have one of those blasted time-forsaken biscuits. I'm hungry enough to eat a rock. Which is a good thing, since there's not much difference."
As Cwen handed her one of the aforementioned biscuits, Jemayne paused one final time to look at the taller girl. "What was it Amity called you? Cyerriah? I flat out refuse to call you some trumped up thing like Cwen-Bush or whatever the pointy-ears came up with." She hesitated seeming to struggle with something. "Cwen, maybe. If you want."
Cwen Leaf. It was the name He had chosen for her. Before that… she couldn't even really remember. Just 'Girly' and 'Slave.' She thought she remembered her mother calling her 'Baby-girl' habitually. Her mother. A retired concubine-turned-breeder on some far away, long forgotten estate. Her father a gladiator rewarded with a chance to sire a child—a strong, laughing shadow in her memory; a man she had seen only twice, when her mother pointed him out in the practice arena, and once when she was older, and her mother had been assigned to him again. What had become of her past? Of family?
"I have faith in you Cye'rriah." Amity's words. "It means… Flame Spirit."
She looked back at Jemayne and smiled. "Cyerriah's fine."
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A/N: Once again my supposedly 'sub'-characters amaze me with how much they have to say. So much for 'I'll just write a brief Lord Shaen prologue.' ^_^U
To Reviewers: Once again, thanx so much for the feedback. I appreciate it so much!
Rosethorn: Happy? ^_^ I hope you're still enjoying her.
Wizard116: They're great books. ^_^ I'll try to work in enough background information so it's not confusing. I'd be glad to answer any questions.
Wolfwind: *mysterious grin.* Well we'll see, won't we? Muahaha. Thanx for the thoughtful critique, and the compliments.
Fireblade K'Chona: I'm re-reading Elvenborn now! ^_~ (It's my favorite.)
Well, I hope you liked! Please let me know! Please? Hugs and Kisses! The next chapter will be up next Wednesday if I get reviews, okay? ^_^