Chapter Six

Alanna slowly opened her eyes and wearily looked around her, a brief repast in her fever allowing her to think clearly. She lay on a thin mattress, and the marble floor pressed uncomfortably against her frame. There were multiple thin beddings around her, though to Alanna, it seemed they were as far away from her as possible. Next to her, there was a small square of cloth and on it sat little jars of foul smelling solutions.

The air was crisp and cold, and through the walls she could hear the bustle of pots and pans. Alanna realized the slaves' quarters were near the kitchens. Groaning, she brought her hands to her head and brushed her hair out of her eyes. To her surprise, it was longer than she remembered. At least a hand's width had been grown, and Alanna briefly wondered how.

Her musings were interrupted by a sharp yet soothing voice. "It's a side effect of the potions." Alanna raised herself onto her elbows, cautious of her ribs.

"You needn't worry about your ribs, child," the woman said, coming closer so Alanna could see her.

Her brown hair was silvering at the crown of her head and wisps were plastered across her face by sweat. Her wrinkles scrunched when she smiled or talked as she did now.

"Old Bessie's potions may smell and taste bad and cause hair growth, but they work as good as any mage work," the old lady said, coming to kneel next to Alanna. She unwound the cloth around Alanna's side and placed gentle fingers down her ribs. Alanna flinched; her fingers were cold. The women smiled, showing broken and crooked teeth. "Stand up, and let's have a look at you."

Alanna obeyed, barely registering she was bare but for a bellyband and her token from the Goddess, which surprisingly still touched her skin.

After rolling her shoulders a few times and performing poses the old woman barked, she stood in the sunlight waiting. The old woman had watched her with sharp brown eyes and now looked sad.

Alanna raised an eyebrow, and the woman stepped forward and ran her fingers down her face softly. "You, lass, you will be bound for the bedchambers soon enough, I'm afraid."

Alanna flinched even though she suspected that that was what it was to come to. "Why?" she croaked. Clearing her throat, she began again. "Why are you so sure?"

The woman, never releasing her hand from Alanna's chin, tilted her head in the light. "You are such an exquisite creature and the way you move…" she trailed off and released Alanna, who hugged herself.

"What do you mean? The way I move?"

The woman waddled over to a small closet and opened it. "You are strong and fit, perfect apart from the scars. The Lord, he—" she paused and pulled fabric down from the rails and beckoned Alanna closer. "He likes strong ones, ones that don't scream as loud or …break." Clearing her throat, she pulled the fabric around Alanna's body and placed pins. Alanna paled thinking of Anya. "The girl I came in with-"

"She is fine, for now. The Lord likes them older," the woman said grimly, "though even that wouldn't protect her if he had cause enough."

Alanna felt sick and enraged at the same time. She had listened to tale of the older female slaves she had encountered and all told of being used as a bed warmer. "How can the Lady allow-"

The old woman cut in. "Keep your voice down. Some people here would sell their own mothers for a favour." She gestured with her head towards the open door, where the clank of pots and pans began to start up again. "As for your question," the woman continued in a soft voice, "she turns a blind eye for she does the same. Any good looking slave and she find's 'special chores' for them to do." She seemed to hesitate in answering, it seemed as though she was leaving something out.

Alanna blinked. She had only thought the female slaves were used for sex, though now thinking about it she realised the male slaves would be used also, to keep despondent wives pleased.

A comfortable silence passed, and Alanna took a while to register she was being spoken to.

"What was that?" she asked, cursing herself for letting her guard slide, even near this seemingly frail old woman.

"I said, "the old woman repeated," 'what is your name?'"

Alanna blinked and decided she could tell this woman her name, since her fellow slaves would rat her out anyway. "Alanna," she answered hesitantly.

The slave woman nodded. "That's a nice name."

Alanna smiled briefly and asked, "What is yours?"

The woman leaned back to admire her handiwork. Alanna was clad in a simple tunic and simple brown leggings. "The name is Elizabeth, but everyone calls me Old Bessie." Alanna blinked, so this was the healer the old woman had referred to, herself! Bessie cocked her head to the side as Alanna straightened and stood tall as the lord strode though the door. Bowing low and murmuring "My lord," Old Bessie left at the lord's insistence, glancing warningly at Alanna.

The lord waited until the door closed before moving to stand in front of Alanna. She met his gaze fiercely until he moved suddenly, his arm raised for a slap. Alanna moved on instinct. Bringing her right arm to deflect his blow, she forced her fist into his face.

The Lord's nose broke with a sickening crunch, and he fell to the floor in pain. Alanna backed away in horror; she knew her punishment would be severe. "I'm- I'm so sorry." She blabbed in fear as he lay moaning into the floor.

Rushing quickly to the cupboard, she withdrew a cloth and handed it to her master before quickly retreating out of his reach. Sitting up, he dabbed his nose gently, soiling the virgin fabric. Glaring daggers at Alanna and with a nasty grin promising revenge, the lord made his way out and into the kitchen. There were gasps of horror and pity as kitchen maids saw the lord's broken nose.

He barked orders and then his voice was lost as he walked away from the slave quarters, above the kitchen. Alanna gulped and moistened her lips as Old Bessie waddled in a few minutes later, a mixture of respect and desolation on her face.

She shook her head as she gestured for Alanna to follow her. Alanna followed her without comment as she was led through the kitchen and the mortified stares of the kitchen slaves. There was a delicious aroma that hit Alanna like a brick and she heard her stomach grumble in appreciation.

As they turned down a corridor, she spoke softly, as though afraid the very walls would hear her words. "That was brave, foolish but brave."

Alanna turned to her and frowned. "He was going to hit me, so I hit him first."

Old Bessie once again shook her head slowly, sorrow in her eyes. "You have fire in you lass, and the oord or even his men will enjoy taming the spirit in you." Alanna glared ahead of her and clenched her jaw.

"It has happened often enough," Old Bessie continued in a soft voice. "The lord buys girls like you from the slave market and slowly breaks them of their spirit." Alanna felt sick, again, though this time it was for herself. She was fairly certain her pride would not allow her to back down. "Be hopeful only the lord wants to break you. He is—"the old woman paused as she came to an oak door. Rapping on it three times, she waited, "more… gentle… than the others."

She opened the door as a voice ordered from beyond the door. Alanna looked at Bessie in distress before she was roughly grabbed and hauled into the room by two huge guards. They closed the door with a slam and pushed her into the center of the room, taking guard in front of the door, their muscles chiselled in their tunics.

Pivoting to glare at them, she returned her attention to the inhabitants of the room. The lady sat gracefully on silk cushions, her skirts billowing around legs, and the lord sat straight in a tall chair, a cloth to his nose still.

Another man was in the room, apart from the two guardsmen. He was clothed in black that hugged his frame, his muscles bulging beneath the leather. His brown hair was short and the skin that was showing spider webbed silver lines. Scars, Alanna realized after a moment's appraisal. The man who held himself alert but relaxed, that stood with animal like grace in stillness, had many scars and had eyes as cold as winter was a warrior. No, he wasn't a warrior; he was a killer. She hadn't had time to stare at him before as she had not seen him. She realized he was the lasher by the snake like coil at his waist. He met her stare openly, even allowing a small grim smile in her direction, as he looked her over in a single glance.

The lord cleared his throat, and Alanna turned to look at him. Silence ensued for a minute and then two. Finally, he began to speak. "You have cost me a great deal, slave," he spat with venom. Alanna said nothing and bit back a retort. "Firstly, I had to buy you." He paused as Alanna snarled at him. The Whip master focused on Alanna, his sparrow like wondering eye resting on her for mere seconds before flirting away. "Then I had to pay the mage for the damage you did, and lost myself a valuable ally in the court. On top of that, my nose will not heal the way it was because I no longer have a mage and because no slave of mine could heal a pin prick!" His voice rose to shouting as he finished his sentence.

The lady looked at her husband from beneath her lashes but said nothing. Alanna glared at her owner and slowly shifted into subtle fighting stance, thinking she could reach back and grasp the guard's sword and then attack him and his companion.

The lord continued speaking, but Alanna ignored him and tensed slowly, ready to make her move. The whip master straightened and shifted his body toward Alanna, slightly ever so slightly, but enough for her to notice the difference.

She looked up and met his green eyes. They gleamed a challenge. As Alanna remained in a slight crouch, his hand strayed towards his ivory whip handle and his fingers twitched mere millimeters above it.

Alanna, understanding his threat, slowly released her straining muscles and stood straight again. Turning to the lord, she heard his order for her penalty. "-…. Raku," the whip master bowed, "will fulfill the punishment."

Alanna looked over at him in semi-horror, her eyes snagging on his whip. She recoiled slightly, and the lord gestured to the guards. As they marched up behind her, she spun and lashed out as they grabbed for her. Her foot connected with a guard's shin, and he cried out in pain.

The other guard grabbed her as her foot dropped for balance and she prepared to strike again. Wrapping her in a bear hug, he pinned her arms, but he forgot how slippery a small person could be and Alanna slithered out of his grasp. Elbowing him in the side, she slammed her palm into his face, and he stumbled back onto the cushions the lady was sitting on. The other guard hobbled forward as she faced him and then dove for her. Panting, Alanna sidestepped his first blow and then slammed her hand into the side of his neck; he dropped like a sack of potatoes.

A noise behind her made her turn. The whip master Raku had knocked a vase off a table in order to get her attention. Now he had his arms loosened and his face took an almost peaceful look. Then, as quick as a snake, he struck. His arm flicked towards hers, and as she moved to block, his long legs snaked out and flicked her legs out from under her.

Stepping back a bit, he allowed her to rise and she did, slowly and cautiously, watching him the entire time. His body gave no indication of his next move, and he flung his body across the distance separating them. He aimed a carefully controlled punch to her side and she swiftly deflected it, understanding he was teasingly keeping his blows at minimum and was moving at a much slower pace than he could.

Deciding she had nothing to lose by showing him the range of her skills, she attacked him. Moving from blow to fend across the room, Raku moved evenly with her, matching every move with an attack that left her breathless and on the defensive. Hand-to-hand combat was never her best subject, and she knew that Raku was far superior to her.

Throwing caution into the wind, she attacked him with everything she had, holding back nothing like she had before. His slow smirk was beginning to annoy her, and she wanted nothing more than to whack it off his face. He moved confidently; every move he made looked to be calculated behind cold green eyes that seemed to glow from within.

Finally, he ended the bout, at the lord's angry insistence, by a spinning kick to her stomach and a sharp but measured blow to the head. Alanna tumbled back in a daze, and the room tilted before spinning wildly. Alanna blinked at the carpeted floor, realizing she was lying on the floor but not quite comprehending how she had got there.

Strong muscular arms crossed her vision, and she was lifted into the air and held away from her carrier's chest as the Lord led them out the room. She blinked tiredly as the tapestries covering the walls flashed past her. Movement halted as they came to a door and restarted once the door was opened.

Alanna was lowered onto the cold marble floor. She briefly noticed it was as white as snow. There was a clanking and the familiar rattle of chains as they were clamped around her wrists. Alanna squirmed but could do little else, for her head was spinning and everything was fuzzy.

Her body was lifted off the floor and she was raised up, her wrists held at opposite raised angles. There was grunting, and Alanna felt her entire body lift, and she attempted to get to her feet to relieve the pressure on her shoulders. Cool fingers to her skull vanquished her fuzzy surroundings, and as Alanna opened her eyes, everything swam into focus, sharper than normal, as was her hearing, before like the toll of a bell, it faded back to normal.

Looking around, she saw two wooden structures with a beam with ruts in it and the remainder of her chains running through it. The chains ran from her wrists up to a lower point on the stout wooden pole and then ran down into a round cog. There was a handle and the chain started from the round cog it was on. There was a matching structure on her other side. Raku, whom she guessed had carried her, for the guards were absent and the lord would not lower himself so much to carry a slave, stood behind her. His fingers had fixed the confusion in her head.

The lord stood in front of her, leering into her face. Gesturing at Raku, he smiled as the catch on the cog clicked as the handle was turned. Alanna began to panic as she realized the handle was tightening her chain, and she was slowly being lifted off her feet.

Squirming, she tried to pull the chin off with her other arm, but her reach was too short. The Lord slapped her around the face. "Now you will truly understand the punishment for those that disobey me."

Raku moved silently across to the over device and began to crank the handle, his muscles straining with the effort. Alanna felt herself stretch out and cried out as her arms and shoulders once again held her body weight. Straining, she found her toes could just kiss the marble floor, though it was very little relief.

The lord grinned at her pain and then spoke to Raku. "Ten lashes for the damage to the mage, five lashes a piece for the damage to my two faithful guards, and ten lashes for damage to myself," he said and Alanna's heart sank, because she could count. "Thirty lashes should do it," he ordered as he opened the door and left after one final smirk at Alanna.

Alanna began to sweat as the door shut with a final dooming clink. "Please," she begged hoarsely to Raku as he slowly uncoiled his whip.

He paused and looked at her sadly. "You have spirit child." His voice was surprisingly light and gentle."That is not a good thing if you are a slave."

Alanna shook her head, ashamed she had been reduced to begging. "Please no."

Raku came over to her, his eyes sad, and cupped her cheek with long, callused fingers. "A wise man once told me that all pain is fleeting. It may last a minute, an hour, a day, or even a year, but eventually, it will subside and something else will take its place. If you quit or surrender to the pain, however, then it is eternal." Raku stared into her eyes and she gazed back in fear.

Moistening her lips, she nodded sharply, and, for a brief moment, her eyes shone with determination. Raku walked behind her and stood with his back to the wall, the whip raised. "Find a place inside," he instructed, "where there is joy and bliss and let it cool the flames of pain."

Alanna gritted her teeth and shut her eyes, determined not to scream. Narrowing his eyes, Raku flicked his wrist, and the ivory handle gleamed in the light before snapping forward, its coal cable streaming out behind it.

The King of Thieves glared furiously at the Prince of Tortall, Jonathan, as he made his way into the Dancing Dove flanked by Gary and Raoul. His grip tightened on his tankard of ale until his knuckles turned white.

As Gary and Roaul sat down and nodded in greeting, George kept his eyes locked on the prince's sapphire ones. "Get out," he hissed in fury, his tone daring Jon to argue.

The prince blinked in surprise. "Look, George, I only-"

George Cooper, resident King of the Rogue in Tortall, didn't allow him to finish. "You are not welcome here!" he thundered, getting to his feet. The men and women of his court all turned to look at who had caused their usually quiet Kkng to yell. Gary and Raoul got to their feet also, ready to jump in front of Jon should George decide to attack him, and, judging by the look on his face, he might. George looked to them both and snarled, "You both are still welcome here. You are still 'friends.'"

"George I only want to talk," Jonathan protested.

George glared at him. "I think you have done enough talking."

Jonathan blushed and looked at the floor. Gary and Raoul looked at each other and then cautiously sat, ready to leap up at the slightest notice.

Conscious of the thieves drifting closer, George concealed his rage behind a blank mask. "I ask you to never return, Johnny." George was no longer a friend. He was now who the King of the Court of the Rogue, and as he spoke his voice betrayed a command, not a request. "We don't allow traitors here."

Jonathan's head snapped up. "I am not a traitor!" he snapped.

"Oh, really?" George's voice showed shock. "So betraying one of your best friends, a friend that has saved your life countless times, is not betrayal? It doesn't make you a traitor?"

Gary and Roaul looked at Jonathan, who was still glaring at George, though he seemed to lose his spirit as George continued, "We may be thieves, Jonathan, but we at least care about our friends and wouldn't betray them."

Jonathan looked down and then scuffed his foot. When he looked up, tears were in his eyes. "I didn't think she would be banished. I never meant for that," he said softly enough that the other thieves couldn't hear, and he slowly turned around and walked out into the night.

Gary and Raoul looked at each other, undecided. George turned to them. "You both are still welcome here. In truth, I enjoy your company."

They nodded and then got to their feet. Clearing his throat, Gary said, "We will come back, but just us."

Raoul nodded to George as he followed Gary out after Jonathan.

The King of Thieves watched them go, his eyes betraying his only emotion. To those who knew him, his heart looked as though it had been ripped out and then trampled by a stamped of horses, but of course no one knew him well enough, nor could they guess at the reason for his pain.

Authors Note:

As always review! I really need the confidence boost my few loyal readers. So come on my 287 hits and 78 visitors!

So, what do you think is going to happen to Alanna? PM me and guess! Or give me some chapter names and Ill offer you a spoiler

spazzysassyangel: I gave you George now you give me Review! ;)

Best Regards, Con Dar Lioness