Chained
Part Five
by Kimra
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Numair stared at the letter with discontent ill-humour. If he had assumed things would become easier to investigate over time he had been sorely wrong. Pride it seemed never failed to prove one's undoing. He could think of very few positive points from this whole ordeal and none of them outweighed the negative.
He rubbed his left temple as he stared at Alanna's letter. Jonathan was doubting and that meant the whole operation could fall apart at any second. It was frustrating to know that so much effort had been exerted in their attempts and suddenly they where being blocked by a man who was almost insignificant in the greater pattern and the King was losing hope.
The balance of the room shifted. She was watching him again. Numair sighed against the feel of intelligent eyes locked on his back. If it was anyone else he knew he could ignore them but there was something in her presence that demanded attention.
Another sigh and slowly he twisted his head around and met her stare, she didn't flinch. The first time he had realised she had left her safe haven she had ducked back below it the moment he turned. This was becoming a regular occurrence however and the girls daring was growing bigger with each encounter. He admired her courage and chastised the curiosity that must have propelled her closer every time.
He knew from simple observation that she couldn't reach him, that her chains kept her locked to her barren side of the room. So he was not worried about that. But when he left if the daring was still there, if the courage had not abated the next man she encountered would break what spirit she had regained in his presence.
He looked away from her quickly, forcing his attention on Alanna's letter. The last thing he needed to do was think about the girls fate because if everything went well, though there was no indication that would happen so far, he would leave with as little attention on himself as he had entered. That meant everything had to be left as it was found, including her.
She began to growl. He tried to ignore it, no one else was in the room but she did it sometimes. A habit he guessed, a habit of a mind that had been forced into another world to protect itself from the abusive world around it. He had read about such things before, even encountered it in several differing forms.
He tired to focus on the letter, tried to ignore the rattle of chains as she slipped back into her hiding place then realised exactly what the warning had been. A click of his fingers and Alanna's letter was gone just as a knock landed on the door. He had to admit, he thought wistfully as he rose, however broken she might be her hearing lacked for nothing.
The knock sounded again, impatient. Numair opened the door and met Grevin Debac's wife's scowl with one of his own. The black haired pretty lady was anything but desired company. He had never been able to understand how a woman came to associate and willingly marry a man as decrepit as Grevin. Usually men like him had a mouse for a wife, a woman who would scurry away the second she could, never speak out of turn and always devalue herself. The sheer strength of Jesika Debec's personality suggested she had entered the relationship with complete knowledge and understanding of what he did and she simply didn't care. Or perhaps she found it enjoyable or amusing, either way she was the kind of puzzle he didn't want to understand and was glad he couldn't.
"Are you comfortable?" Black lined eyes skimmed through the room behind him searching out something. He didn't like the attention, the letter must have been detected or perhaps his use of magic in the room. Either meant they where watching closer then he thought, both meant he would have to redouble his efforts. He felt a growl in his throat, he had just gotten used to having his magic at it's full for the first time in nearly two years and again it would be drained away.
"Fine thank you." He hid his frown and smiled charmingly. He tried to imagine she was someone nicer so the smile didn't seem so false. She cracked a half smile at him in reply, it wasn't a heartfelt smile but he doubted she could smile properly anyway.
"So long as you want for nothing." She replied smoothly in a cultured voice. She turned, he went to shut the door then a rebellious thought occurred to him.
"Actually-" He called, propping the door open and leaning against the frame as she turned to face him. "-the girl, she needs new clothes." He put a sneer into his voice a quick sign of distaste. "I'm sick of seeing those tattered rags."
"There's no guarantee she won't defile anything new put on her." Was the careful warning.
"If she does." He replied calmly, meeting the lady's curious look. "Then I'll punish her." He said it casually, the darker tones carring his words without effort.
"I'll have some things sent up by the afternoon." And the lady managed a full smile, just as casual as his words and just as careless. He felt cold as he slammed the door closing himself into the room again. Disgusted that any mention of harm done to the wild girl in the room could put a smile on a face that had before been unmoved.
The gentle rattle of chains and he found the cat-girl was back to her place on the floor, crouched and watching him. He wished for a second that he wasn't so human as he stared into alert blue grey eyes, because if he wasn't so human he wouldn't feel so attached to a situation he should have been ignoring.
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He was sitting there, in her reach. She could have killed him, at least she thought she could have. It wasn't something she was trying, it wasn't something she wanted to do to him. But he was sitting on the floor across from her, looking worn, but from the things he looked at and the times he left the room when the sky was dark.
Besides warn he looked hesitant, a little unsure of what ever he was sitting before her for. Instinct told her to run, reason told her to stay. He had done nothing to harm, nothing to unsettle, and he was not seated to attack he was seated in an entirely human way that would take his legs far too long to untangle before he could launch an attack.
She stayed beyond his reach in case, but still she did not hide. She watched him carefully. By his side where piles of cloth, cloth that smelled soapy, fresh, almost like him, but not so calming. He was tapping a forgotten finger against his thigh, his frowning attention solely on her. She was a little unsettled by it, but not scared. He had paid attention to her, a little bit, but this was complete attention and she recognised the difference.
"These are for you." His voice was gentle, his tapping hand gestured to the cloth's. She didn't take her eyes from him. He gave a sigh, and looked away from her to the pile. If she where hunting just then he would have died and she knew it. But then she could feel his ease, he wasn't so scared of her as others had been before. "I guess that mean's you should change into them-" He frowned at that and met her eyes. "Do you even know how to dress yourself?" There was hesitation in his voice, worry in his eyes. She tried to process the words for him but some of them didn't make sense. "Do you even understand a word I'm saying?" That was asked softer, she wondered if she was meant to hear it.
He gave another sigh, she noticed he did that a lot, like a man who couldn't help but continue to surrender to what was happening around him. It was a little sad, because she could see he was strong, and even she had never surrendered.
"Okay." He touched at the pile thoughtfully, watching her with that same frown. "I'm going to leave these here. For you. There yours." He glanced at the roof, it seemed a familiar action but she couldn't remember where from so she risked a look up to try and fathom what had gotten his attention. He gave a little laugh and indignant she glared at him, knowing he was laughing at her because the uncertainty in his eyes was replaced by an amused expression. "I have to do some thing, so I'll be gone for a while. Change, or-" He motioned vaguely "-do what ever you want with the clothes." He was resigned again as he rose from his seat, she didn't back away from him even though standing she knew he could kick her.
He wasn't watching her, seemed distracted by thoughts that where beyond her. She moved closer curiously, but he did not stir in response. She reached out to his pant leg cautiously wondering if he was real, if this was some strange dream she had slipped into. Because there couldn't really be human's like him, humans who smelt clean and gave her food and tried to talk to her. Humans who weren't trying to break her with every breath they took in. Even though there had been people like that before.
He moved and she jerked back, recoiling in fear of discovery. Her eyes jumped up, but his attention was fixed beyond the room. Berating herself, telling her heart to calm it's pounding rhythm she watched him leave the room and listened as he locked the door on her again.
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Hours. He had been gone for so long the bright sun had faded into darkened night. She had poked at the pile of clothes in curiosity, after all it was the first thing, besides her food that he had left within her reach, so the objects bore scrutiny. And she needed to distract herself.
The longer he was gone the more she wondered if he was coming back, if tomorrow the door would open and another man would walk in all smirks and daggers and poison. And everything she was finally able to think beyond would start again.
She knew what they where, she was wearing something like them but these where softer, nicer. The grain of them didn't rub against her skin irritatingly when she caressed the fabrics.
The last time such things had been brought to her four men had held her down while the red head changed her. She would have killed them all if she could have. Would have ripped them to piece's when the chain was taken away for a few brief moments. They had known they would need so many to hold her down when the chain was gone, and even then she had gotten scratches they hadn't expected in. The lost opportunity had gnawed at her so much that they had left her alone for a while, perhaps aware of how truly deadly she would have been if they had disturbed her.
It had happened more then once, she could almost remember it happening ten or twenty times, but she wasn't quite sure of the number. The fear each time had been worse then the experience, the desperation to escape, the knowledge that in those moments she was closer to freedom then any other time she could remember made her more ferocious.
But here where clothes, and no one was holding her down, forcing them on her. She wondered if she was supposed to put them on, wondered if she even knew how.
He unlocked the door cautiously. There was nothing right about this scenario. Nothing was going right, He felt like he was being watched, but he couldn't not search just because of a gut feeling. But searching was futile, there was no information, nothing to connect Grevin to the rumours that had been filtering slowly through to the castle.
He considered the possibility that maybe Jonathan was right, maybe this line of action was futile but it was nearly two years of searching that would go to waste if they stopped now and Alanna would never hear of it. Thayet had been her friend first after all.
The sound of whimpers distracted him as he pushed the door open and the immediate silence that broke through the room alerted weary senses. He would hardly be surprised if an attack came. This place was too clean, especially for an illegal brothel, there should have been some tarnished associations referred to in their books, but there was nothing.
So he prepared his magic as he walked into the silent room and closed the door behind him, the curtains where drawn closed, the room plunged into almost complete darkness. He touched at the light crystals his attention not wavering from the still room, waiting for what ever was going to happen to happen. Ready to fight back when the attack came. But as light flared in the crystals and spread through the room no attack came.
He was mildly surprised though still on edge. He scanned the room until his eyes fell on her. She had tucked herself into the corner of her room. Her chain was hooked across the bed. She mustn't have been thinking clearly, usually she hid beneath the bed.
Again, in case he was mistaken, he scanned the room for any other presence but found it empty.
"Little cat?" He asked carefully and she curled into a tighter ball, her whimpers returning. He shouldn't have been distracted, he knew it, but he couldn't help but be concerned by the sudden change in her demeanour. Aggressive he was almost comfortable with though she didn't seem to be aggressive towards him, but this sounded like a puppy dying and it wasn't a pleasant noise. "What's wrong?" He couldn't help talking to her, she was after all human in some way, and it wasn't the words that mattered, he knew, it was the tone.
He stepped into her territory and she curled deeper into her corner. He was glad she hadn't chosen to hide under the bed, at least this way he could try and help without scaring her senseless. Or at least any more senseless. He frowned.
"Calm down." He instructed carefully, tone soothing. When he crouched down beside her he could see exactly what was wrong and he cursed himself for a fool.
Her clothes where skewed, her shirt hanging from one shoulder the other bare. He knew she had tried to dress, but somewhere in her mind she hadn't understood what the chain around her right wrist meant. He cursed himself again because he should have thought it through himself but in all honesty he hadn't thought she would try.
She had managed the sky blue skirt perfectly, but her efforts with the shirt had not been so successful. He could see she had tried to pull it on over the chain, assumed she had torn the other shirt to get it off, and then he realised what the real problem was.
She was vulnerable and she knew it. Removing the first shirt had left her bare, the inability to put on the second… he wondered if she felt helpless, like a child who couldn't undo their boot ties, and he pitted that just as he apologised for letting it happen.
Carefully he reached forwards towards her, knowing she needed the help he had failed to give so far. She hissed, her body tightening into it's ball. "I'm trying to help." He told her calmly, trying to keep his voice steady although he was bothered by her reluctance to trust him. He could understand it of course, but it didn't prevent him from felling a little exasperated.
He reached again, felt her body cringe when he touched her but pressed on. If she stayed as she was she would freeze or work herself into a higher state of hysteria. His movements where slow, calm, steady, he didn't want to startle her, he suspected her reaction to being startled would be violent.
"Calm down little Cat." He instructed and his other hand took her shackled wrist drawing it towards him. He didn't look at her as her body was pulled to face him paid attention to nothing but the chain. There where bruises around her wrist, scars and broken flesh. He refused to think about it, instead focused his magic into the metal and forced the lock open.
It snapped under the pressure of his spell, falling to the ground between them with a thud. He felt her stiffen, felt her attention shift from where ever it had been onto him and the small piece of freedom he had just put in her reach. He ignored her reaction, speaking calmly, soothingly still. And reached around her for the shirt that still hung from one shoulder only.
She didn't react, he wondered if she was in shock but prepared himself for the defence that would be necessary if she chose to attack him. He had no wish to alert the Debec house hold that he was an adapt mage but if the girl chose to attack he wasn't sure he could stop her without magic, at least not without incurring damage to himself and causing some to her.
He grasped the fabric that hung at her back and drew it up over her bare shoulder. With his free hand he directed her arm into the sleave realising he should have helped her in the first place, but unsure if she would have accepted help from him, especially help changing clothes. Somehow he assumed that would be taken as an attack.
When the material was settled on her arms and shoulders and he had drawn several of the buttons together concealing her body once more he met her eyes. The perfect blue-grey's that stared into him where filled with uncertainty and he found himself compelled. There was something intelligent in her expression that didn't fit with his definitions of mad. The few people he had met who had pulled into their own worlds had been vague, distracted. This girl, this woman had no such vagueness, only an alacrity that was unnerving and an intelligence that was consuming.
Slowly, unsure himself he pulled away from her and returned to the other side of the room. He knew he should have ignored her, forgotten her completely but he also knew now that he had started to pay attention things wouldn't be so easy to ignore.
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