Yes, its been awhile. Sorry, and please review!
Kel looked out the window of her carriage, musing on both the
strangeness of her new situation and her master. Somehow Raston had
helped her into the ornate box she was currently occupying, which
seemed more like a tent then any compartment she might have used in
Corus. Not to mention the fact that the horses here were much more,
well, human, then the one's that usually transported the nobility. Being
carried, however gently, by four toned male slaves was odd indeed. Far
greater then the strangeness of her current position was her new situation
as a female slave. She had no doubt that she would be some sort of
sexual object, judging from the slave-sellers comments, but Raston,
from the brief glance she had got of him, didn't seem the type that needed
to buy company for his bed. But, Kel realized, she didn't even know
where she was, or even if this place had a name in her country. Tortall's
maps were accurate, but only encompassed areas and countries that had
relationships and enmity with Tortall and its most immediate allies. And
while Kel was certain Carthak had far more detailed maps, the ancient
country still was hesitant to send knowledge to its most recent allies.
Some of the more powerful mages could transport people great
distances, Numair had taught the pages this year. Kel had the unsettling
feeling that, yet again, his teachings applied to her.
The desert Kel watched out the opening in her silken carriage seemed to
go on forever, which seemed to the good as far as her predicament was
concerned. Kel was afraid. Despite the apparent kindness of her master
and the grandeur of her surroundings, Kel was still a slave, probably
bought for her master's pleasure. She quickly made a decision. Despite
the fact that she was miles away from her family and friends, with little
hope of ever going home, she would fight. She would not just let herself
become anyone else's plaything, no matter how sensuous, that stupid
word again, his lips. Kel nodded firmly to herself. With this new resolve,
she fell asleep.
Kel opened her eyes to meet the green gaze of a familiar face. The round
little man she remembered from the collar ceremony was staring at her
with unconcealed curiosity. Kel bit back a gasp of surprise and quickly
donned her most expressionless Yamani mask.
"Who are you?" she asked dispassionatly.
"I," the man announced proudly, motioning to himself, "am Galrand the
Fool, most cherished slave of the Princes of J'rasdwaren. And I," he
added with a cackle, "am here to instruct you on the rules of the game."
Kel didn't lose her composure, despite this revelation. "What am I
then?" she asked, as he clearly would tell her about this game without
prodding.
"You are a player in the game," Galrand answered, waggling his
eyebrows. "Or a victim. It matters little to me. What you must know, of
course, are the rules," he began briskly. "You are Prince Raston's. No
one else may interfere with you, so its no use whimpering whenever a
man looks at you crossly. He can do whatever her wants with you, but
traditionally its not painful, so theres no use killing yourself."
Kel merely nodded, wondering if his words were tradition, or based on
previous "players" behavior. She supposed it was a little of both.
"You lose when you say his name." Galrand nodded, apparently finished.
"What happens if I lose?" Kel asked with trepidation.
"You have given in. You are his, you will stay with him for the rest of
his life."
"How do I win?"
"He gives up. Then, you'll go wherever you wish. But," Galrand paused,
thinking, and added "he won't give up."
Gets me to say his name, Kel pondered. How could he possibly get me to say his name?