Chapter two is a little long, but introduces Sarah, though not like we are used to her. Give it a chance, any comments are appreciated.

Tarrence took a moment to admire the waiting room he was placed in by one of the guards. It was basically like the others; though no two were alike. He had once been in one made completely of stone, while this was comprised of marble. Beautiful marble with small, black swirls made the ceiling, the floor, the four columns in every corner, and even the staircase where two guards stood stand. Even the guards seemed to blend in perfectly, their armor a near continuation of the marble décor. There was basically nothing else; just a small table and a fire pit in the middle room. With his gloved hands behind his back, the Lord of Torin, took another casual look around the room, brushing his sandy hair from his eyes as a door opened and let in a breeze. Along with the breeze came a dark haired and rather bronzed skin man, who made straight to Tarrence and gave a slight bow. Tarrence nodded back, "Is everything proceeding?"

"Yes, m'lord," the man's voice was quiet, but penetrating; his black eyes sparkling. "The cargo should arrive very soon, very soon indeed."

Smiling, Tarrence all but rubbed his hands together, but instead settled for tugging the gloves into place. He was to say another thing, when the click of heeled boots caught his attention and he turned quickly to the staircase in time to witness the marble guards draw back their spears and let the king pass by, all in a flurry of black clothes underneath a purple cloak; blond hair drifting lazily behind. Tarrence smiled and bowed, his servant repeating the gesture.

Jareth stepped closer to them. "Tarrence, why the early arrival, the meeting isn't for another few days?"

Tarrence straightened and flashed another smile, "An important shipment is being sent my way, but I did not wish for it to be of no use to me by the time it reached Torin," he spread his hands a little apart and shrugged, "so I decided I would come by here and check on the cargo en route; if it so pleases his Majesty," he added almost as a second thought.

The king's eyes narrowed, but Jareth quickly recovered and smiled, showing very pointy teeth. "Very well, you may stay in one of the guest rooms; a guard," he paused a second and re-thought; "a servant will escort you." He spun around and took a few steps away before spinning around again, eyeing the lord and his servant with a critical eye, "You know the rules, Tarrence. You may stay on the ground floor and my come and go as you will, but do not attempt the upper castle floors." It was not really a reminder; almost a threat and Tarrence felt the hair on his neck bristle.

"Of course, your Majesty," he said with simple humility; obviously enough, for after a moment's pause the king returned up the stairs with the same briskness he had descended. After the departure, Tarrence and his servant straightened and shared a small smile with one another before leaving the room, for a lord always had something to do.

Jareth was irritated, to say the least, as he climbed the remaining steps to a landing. The damned lord was unnerving, and annoying, and Jareth fisted a hand. "Didymus!" he projected into the hall. The answer was instantaneous as the large man stepped from behind a corner and continued walking a step behind his king. "What did you know of this?"

"I knew only moments before you did, Sire." Didymus did not enjoy the current mood his liege was in and was doubly irritated that the pompous lord had managed entry to the castle before he himself was notified. It seemed to him a talk with the Front Guard was in order…a talk and maybe a bashing. He was lost in his thoughts; very nearly missed the sign the king had stopped; but years of training hadn't been for nothing and Didymus refrained from stumbling over the king.

Jareth paused and took a deep breath. It wasn't the first time lords had arrived earlier than a scheduled date; he wasn't sure what was bothering him so about this. He opened a door to his left, confidant his right-arm man would follow, and entered a sort of semi balcony. It was just a small room with one door, and barely enough room for three people to stand, but all that was important was the window, for it had a magnificent view of the labyrinth. Jareth took another breath, "Am I being paranoid?" He gave Didymus a sideways glance, "I've never been one for uninvited guests."

Didymus closed the door and leaned heavily against it and shook his head. "If it were any other lord I'd tend to agree with you…but this one," he looked up to see if Jareth registered the same mistrust. "I wouldn't leave him unattended for long, Jareth. There's always something under his words; behind his eyes."

"I tend to agree." Jareth turned his sights to the labyrinth. "Keep an eye on him." Didymus recognized the dismissal; bowed and left the room. Jareth barely sensed the closing of the door; he was reaching, sensing, sending his magic into the labyrinth itself and listening. Something was coming, something was about to happen and the labyrinth whispered it to him, unfortunately the labyrinth deemed whatever 'it' was a secret and would only allow Jareth glimpses of images…green eyes, a red fox, a white owl…it made no sense to him at all so he closed his mind off and simply leaned over the edge to enjoy a moment's rest and the autumn sun on his face.

The crack of the whip in that of itself is unmistakable, but there is a certain sound when that whip connects to flesh; and that sound had made a clearing through the city past the walls as a dirty man yanked a chain the width of his hand. The chain was attached to shackles holding ten to twelve women in a row, all lurching forward with the pull of the chain, for their feet were also bound. It was possible one did indeed fall for the sound of the whip rang through the air a little ways down the line, followed by a whimper. The women were filthy, many were completely nude, some fortunate few wore rags that barely covered their front side; all of their rears were bare.

The journey through the labyrinth had been easy enough, for there were always passages open to Dorensae, but that road had been dusty and autumn was a dry season, so as such, each and everyone of them was covered in dust; brown, soft dust. The lead man sneezed and rubbed a dirty sleeve across his face; a smear was left in its wake. Again he gave a yank, "Come on, you filthy flea bags! I'm in charge of getting your pretty little hides cleaned up for the lord; and I know you're not going to give me any trouble, right?" He said looking the first half of the girls over. The whip sang its challenge and all lowered their heads; almost all. A single girl, about fourth in line, stood straight and did not bow her head. "What's this girl? Have you no common sense?" He pulled her arms forward and slid his foot behind her knees dropping her to the ground. It took her a moment to straighten, but she did so, glaring at the man with emerald eyes. "Huh, I guess you've got spunk, for a slave." His eyes took on a mischievous gleam, "Fortunately here, old Sors has got the remedy," the man looked to his whip carrying companion, "Don't you Sors?" The man gave a drunken nod, pulled his arm back, reached, and snapped the whip forward making contact to the girl's back and shoulders. She winced, but didn't back down, and so the whip slashed again, this time causing her to lean on her hands; breath catching in her throat. She nearly resisted again, but the lead man grabbed a handful of what was once ebony hair, now dull brown, and pulled her head up. "So, you can handle the whip, can ya?" He forcefully dropped her head and reached into his belt retrieving a club in his hand and swiftly smashed it against her stomach. This time she cried out and threw up what little contents were in her stomach. "Enough?" He asked brandishing his club as if it were a toy. He half expected her to sit back up, but to his utter disappointment she lowered her eyes. Shrugging, he pulled her back to her feet, the other girls relieved for it was a strain on them when the chain was taut. "Suit yourself," he said merrily and began dragging them along, quite pleased that the fourth girl was limping and in obvious pain.

There was a pumping well to the side of the castle doors, and he had been given directions to clean the wares up, and that is what he intended to do. He attached the chain to a loop hanging from the wall, more commonly used for horses, but that made him grin. These "girls" were little better than animals anyway. When he was sure they were secured, he set Sors to the pump and he began pulling the girls under the hose, rubbing at them with scratchy linen bags. Once the girl was as thoroughly cleaned as he could manage, he shoved the same linen bag over her head and shoved her out of his way. It was methodical, he had no pleasure in them, except the one girl, he made sure he scrubbed her welted and bleeding back very well before adding her to the other girls rinsed. After they were all 'clean', he led them into the castle, though a few guards and servants sent him a sharp gaze. Ah, he knew about the ban on slavery in Dorensae, all slavers did, but he had the mark of the lord on him, and that was enough for safe passage, enough for the guardsmen and that's all he was counting on.

The lord was already waiting in a large white walled room, one of the very first rooms that he could tell, for it was a short walk from the entrance to this brightly lit place. The young lord was standing smug in the middle of the room, hands behind back, dirty blond hair in place, blue eyes sparkling. He smiled as the lord himself smiled, "Ah, welcome, welcome; you must be Hesyl, yes?" The lead man, or Hesyl, smiled.

"That I am, my lord," he gave a little bow and brought the women in and lined them in a straight row. "Straight from the outlands, like you wished, sir; all slaves before we took him, also like you wished…though…" at that he looked a little confused, but the lord just waved the concern away.

"It made it easier to justify my reasoning if the king should ask." Now Tarrence took a closer look at the girls. He was about to comment but it was at that moment the doors leading into the room were thrown open and a very unhappy looking king stormed in with a very unhappy looking second a few paces behind.

"I will give you a chance to explain yourself because you are a lord and a member of my counsel, but if that is not an explanation that I deem worthy you're head shall be mine." Jareth spoke vehemently; his accent thickened by his fury, small sparks of flame flaring from his green and blue eyes. Didymus looked just as furious, but held his peace.

"My liege," Tarrence dribbled as he bowed, "before you are nothing more than new servants for my castle, bought fair from their previous bonds. I would never disrespect any orders from you." He straightened and dared a glance as Jareth fully entered the room and stepped toward the girls, and was it his imagination, or did he linger at the fourth girl a little…that sparked an idea. "If his majesty wishes, I could possibly leave one of them…"

He was cut off with an abrupt, "No." and a wave of his hand. "I do not keep slaves as servants." There was a deep breath and he allowed his mismatched eyes to fall on a girl. She was in obvious pain and Jareth snarled, "Keep them below. See them better dressed than that, and give them some real food." With that he turned and left the room, but Didymus remained.

He took a few steps closer to Tarrence and all but growled, "I would be very careful if I were you, Lord Tarrence. Only fools cross his majesty and short lived fools dare to do it twice a day." With that he spun, and though he was a large boned man, he made absolutely no sound leaving. It irked Tarrence and he spun towards the slaver.

"You heard him, take them below; make sure all his orders are obeyed. Tomorrow set out at dawn." Hesyl barely had time to nod before Tarrence turned and stomped off in the opposite direction of the king and the other strange man.

She eyed the cell that was holding her and five other girls with the wide-eyed expression of a doe caught with an arrow. It was maddening, she had never been so…so…confined before and it seemed the room was shrinking, the walls were closing in on her…she closed her eyes tight trying to block the sight and the feeling. She jumped when a pair of hands softly touched her back.

"I'm sorry…" the girl said softly, "what be your name, girl?"

She looked up with her dark green eyes, "Sarah," she replied in the tongue that was becoming quite familiar to her, though it was not her own.

"Sarah, how is it you came to be here?" the slave girl widened her arms. "All of us, we all been serving for something, some crime or another, but you…nones of us have ever seen the likes of you, standing up to the slaver and all." There was a slight drawl to the accent and Sarah had to concentrate to understand, but she felt a sense of awe from these girls, like she had dared something they had only ever dreamed.

"I am not a slave," she said sternly and looked once more about the cell. The door leading out was a simple wooden one with three bars barely an arms width apart for the peak. "And I am not staying here." She stood fluidly, if albeit painfully and crept to the door, weeks of malnutrition leaving her pale arms skinny enough to slide through the bars. She craned her neck and managed to pull the lever to the lock and laid back on her heels in satisfaction. Now all she had to do was open the door. She went to reach for the knob and her stomach dropped as she realized there was no knob on her side of the door.

The slaver girl stepped beside her. "Don't try nuthin', it's dangerous for a slave to be caught tryin' to escape."

"I'm not a slave," Sarah replied through clinched teeth. She pushed her head up to the peak and rolled her eyes around until she saw the knob…it wasn't particularly far…but it was at a difficult angle. She slid her arm through once more, but her finger tips barely brushed the knob. She bit her lip; to actually turn the knob she'd have to force her arm in an unbendable way; in other words, she'd have to dislocate her shoulder. Looking around briefly, she found a discarded piece of wood, gathered it to her quickly and jabbed it into her mouth, ignoring the confused expressions from the other girls. She backed up and motioned for the others girls to give her a clearing and then ran straight towards a stone wall at a break-neck pace. Right before hitting the wall, she angled herself so only her left shoulder made contact. She writhed sideways and heard a faint "popping" sound next to her ear a split second before the pain washed over her. She might have screamed, but the wood in her mouth prevented anything other than a moan.

"You fool!" One of the slaves cried and they all backed away from her as if she were spreading a plague.

Sarah ignored them and pulled the moist wood from her mouth, cradling her left arm against her. She flexed her hand, and though it hurt immensely to do so, it worked. Stumbling over to the door she once again pushed her arm through, the dislocation allowing her enough length to grab the knob and twist with all her strength. The heavy door budged a little and she pushed it the rest of the way open, retrieving her arm in the process, a triumphant smile playing across her lips. Sarah didn't wait for an invitation, she held her arm tight to her and ran.

So, what did you think? Please tell me!