Siti`medaale kneeled before him. It lovingly looked up at him as Riqre smiled down at... her.
His enslaved Djinni had picked a nice form. It wasn't a Stitchfolk, but it still had its unique charm. Riqre licked his lips. "Siti, I would have you tonight."
"Yes, Master." She said breathlessly before moving closer to him, and opening her mouth...
...
Riqre woke up.
He'd been having the most wonderful dream, but it was already fading from his mind. He let out a sigh and opened his eyes.
"Good morning, Master." The two [Slaves] he'd let into his bed last night greeted him.
He sighed in contentment before looking around the room. Where was Siti`medaale? It had been standing-
Oh, it was in that corner now.
The fledgling Djinni still looked at him with hatred. It would be a while yet before he could mold it into what it was destined to be.
"Help me with my morning ablutions." He didn't need to give the order out loud, but he liked hearing the adoration in the response.
"Yes, Master!"
...
Siti`medaale still followed him.
That was good. Riqre couldn't think about how such a simple command could be misconstrued, but he worried that a simple mind might have difficulty in grasping even the most basic of orders. Today he was going to do something about the unsightly state his Djinni was in.
They reached the training grounds, and he looked around for an appropriate [Slave]. No... No... No... Ah, yes. One of the humans. That would work for multiple reasons.
"Siti`medaale. Go to the center of the ring." The Djinni started walking, slipped, and fell down. It then began crawling in a disgraceful manner. Riqre clenched his fist. "You." He pointed at his chosen [Slave]. "Take your sword, and kill the Djinni!"
"Me? What?" The man looked around in confusion and dared to not immediately obey! "With THIS sword?"
He wasn't one of Riqre's personal [Adoring Slaves]. He was being trained to be sold, not to become part of Riqre's household. He wasn't skilled enough to earn that honor. Nor was he... suitable in other ways.
"Do it! Now!" The [Slave] behind him struck him with his whip.
Riqre smiled. That was why having loyal [Slaves] on your side was so important. They could be trusted to train their lessers when he wasn't present.
The reluctant [Slave] moved into the ring before scrunching his face up, letting out a battle cry, and charging the Djinni. He held his sword in two hands, and brought it down on its head with all his might!
...To no effect.
Riqre smirked. Siti`medaale was either unconsciously rebelling, or was so young as to not have full control of its powers. That did not mean that such powers did not exist. Riqre knew better than that. It had terrorized Lailight Scintillation for weeks. If there was one thing it could do, it was fight. A mundane sword had no chance of hurting it.
...Even if it had, it would've simply dispersed its physical form. Siti`medaale would then have been forced to reform it and undo its unsightly injuries. It may not be capable of obeying that command directly, but reforming was an unconscious reflex of Djinni.
Now, for the next part...
"Siti`medaale, kill the singular man that is nearest to you." Riqre had thought long and hard about how to word his command. He had to give the order for the Djinni to be able to inflict harm. Even then, it could not turn on him directly. Still, it was prudent to limit it to exactly one target, so as to leave out the possibility of collateral damage.
The [Slave]'s eyes went wide. He knew he had no chance of winning against a Djinni. He would surely attempt to rebel - as much as his [Class] allowed it.
Riqre could have none of that.
"[Whispered Command]. talac et Sitivnia." He used his [Skill] to prevent any of his other [Slaves] from hearing the language of Roshal. A [Slave Master] could command any [Slave]. A crest appeared on the [Slave]'s head and his eyes went blank. He then resumed attacking in a fury.
Siti`medaale, for its part, fought back poorly. It suffered wound after wound as it futilely tried swiping at its opponent. It seemed that Riqre needed to provide it more incentives.
"Siti`medaale. You may eat what you kill."
The Djinni perked up, and Riqre smiled. He'd been paying attention, and he'd noticed the look it had when it had seen the training for the [Carrion Eaters]. It wasn't one of boredom, hatred, or loathing.
No.
It was one of longing.
Siti`medaale swiped with one of its hands. Instead of the previous effect, this time its claws split its target in two. It immediately grabbed the torso before it could fall to the ground... and ripped a huge chunk of it out with its mouth.
Riqre grinned in satisfaction.
It had obeyed not only his command, but also his suggestion. That was the first step. The hole in the wall. The chink in the armor. All that was required now was a gentle nudging in the right direction and time.
Zehia watched from her perch as the Djinni killed its opponent
As expected, its power was overwhelming. A single [Slave] with a non-magical blade never stood a chance. However, that was not the most intriguing part of what she'd just witnessed.
Riqre did not have full control of the Djinni.
Zehia could think of a dozen possible explanations, but she was no expert. She couldn't identify exactly how or why the Djinni was behaving so oddly. It hardly mattered anyways. The Djinni wasn't her target, Riqre was.
Although, killing him would've been a far more daunting task if his Djinni was as skilled and experienced as those that belonged to other Emirs. Zehia didn't need the increased difficulty. It was hard enough to assassinate a [Slave Master] in the heart of his power, and Riqre was no ordinary [Slave Master].
Zehia knew how to infiltrate any given location. It was part of her job as a problem solver, and it was a key aspect of her [Class]. A non-Roshalin wouldn't have been able to slip into the outer section like she had.
Riqre's compound was more like a small town than a house. There were thousands of [Guards], and even more [Slaves] here that were being trained. With that many people, it wasn't difficult to slip in through the cracks.
The key was knowing when to appear as a [Slave], and when not to.
No one looked at [Slaves] - not unless they were evaluating them. In Roshal, they were property. Valuable property sometimes, but just property. Things to be used to make life easier for others. Sure, you couldn't ignore them. Even with their [Class], they still tried to escape occasionally. Only the most loyal of [Slaves] went without shackles, and even then, they always wore a collar.
If you wore nondescript clothing, chains, and a collar, then you could go almost anywhere as long as you looked like you were following an order. Or, at least, anywhere not important. For obvious reasons, [Slaves] were not allowed to enter certain places.
It wasn't the perfect disguise. In fact, it was a very high-risk one. If you were pretending to be property, then someone more important than you could always stop you, or order you to do something else. That was more of a risk in less well-run [Slave Master] estates, but it was still a risk.
Similarly, one could not pretend to be a [Guard] or any other such position for an extended period of time. [Cook], [Sweeper], [Herder]... just like in any city, they knew each other. A skilled [Infiltrator] could lose themselves in the crowd, but that could only last for so long before someone noticed a new face and got curious.
The final option, of going unseen completely, was the safest, but wasn't practical for long periods of time. Every interaction with every person or possession was a gamble. Eventually even the highest level [Rogue] would slip, and then things got complicated.
That was why Zehia was doing what all high-level [Infiltrators] did. She switched between tactics as it was required. It took talent to pull off, but was far and away the best method.
Even then, getting close enough to Riqre to enact her revenge would be... difficult.
There was a reason that she had bought her [Slaves] from him. They weren't the highest level. They weren't the most skilled. With the exception of Laila, they didn't possess special [Classes]. However, there was one thing that Riqre'ma Medaale's merchandise had that made her purchase from him time and time again: loyalty.
The [Slaves] Riqre produced were expensive... and loyal. They didn't rebel. They didn't turn on their owners. They didn't listen to the occasional bad apple that tried to pretend to be the next [Rebel of String]. They were [Slaves], and they faithfully obeyed.
So, while she could sneak into the outer area easily enough, getting into Riqre's inner sanctum... that could take some time.
Laila sat in her room.
'You have a wonderful room! You will be so close to Master Riqre! Oh, how I envy you getting so much of his attention!'
She had a wooden bed with a threadbare sheet and no padding.
That was it. That was all that was contained in her 'wonderful room'.
Laila let out a sigh. It was exactly how she remembered it in her nightmares. She'd been a slave ever since... that day. She could still remember the looks on her parents faces as she was sold to the man from Roshal. She'd slept on the ground - chained to the other [Slaves] at first. Then, she'd slept in the common room - where all the slaves were forced to stay at night.
She hadn't had a 'bed' then. Nor had she had any privacy. So, in a way, this was a 'wonderful room'. It was nowhere as nice as the one she'd had at Mistress Zehia's home, but at least she didn't have to worry about fending off other [Slaves]. Or fighting them for scraps of food.
She smiled ruefully to herself. When she'd been bought by Riqre'ma Medaale... she had actually been excited. His followers nearly sang his praise with every breath. They painted a lovely picture... that was completely false.
Sure, Riqre's [Guards] were more disciplined than what Laila had experienced over the years. They didn't touch her. They kept good watch over Riqre's property. At first, she hadn't noticed that they were insane. It wasn't until she'd been chosen to enter the inner area that she'd really seen how... obsessed they were.
Not that she'd had much time to worry about that. Not when the... experiments started. Not when she'd gained her new [Class]. The [Class] that had led to her escaping this place for a while... and the [Class] that had brought her back.
No. No matter what Riqre's sycophants said, Lailight Scintillation was the best place to be a [Slave] in Roshal. They didn't train [Slaves] there, or at least not in the same way they did outside of the capital city. In many ways, it had been a paradise.
Now? Now she was back here. Her special [Class] had leveled up for the first time in years, and she was receiving an award for it.
She wouldn't be flayed again for a week.
Laila started crying. She wasn't sure if they were tears of joy, for an entire week was a grand reprieve. Or if they were tears for her future self. A week wasn't much time at all.
...
Three nights later, Laila was lying on her plank and trying to fall asleep.
It wasn't that the 'bed' was uncomfortable, or that there was a chill in the air as winter continued. It wasn't even the dread she felt from the nightmares she was certain to have. Rather, it was the sensations she could feel inside of her.
She couldn't describe it well. It was almost like she could 'feel' her own thoughts. Not in any... esoteric way, but more like she had fingers inside of her head. Like... every thought produced a faint tremor that she could feel.
But they weren't feelings like touching things. More like how she could feel her muscles contract?
Or not?
It was infuriatingly vague, and she couldn't ignore it. Eventually, she would become exhausted enough that sleep would take her.
The door to her room swung open, and the Djinni entered.
Laila jumped to her feet and bowed. "Greetings, O' great Djinni." Was that what you were supposed to say? Surely, as far as [Slaves] were ranked, a Djinni was higher than her. She hoped she hadn't offended the black and white woman.
The Djinni tilted her head and looked puzzled.
Laila gulped, but pressed on. "Thank you for what you did for me before."
She still wasn't sure if it was a dream or an hallucination, but she thought the Djinni had come to her on the night she'd leveled up and gained her newest [Skill]. Once again, her [Class] was a blessing and a curse. [Ignore Pain] was an incredibly potent [Skill] - especially for her. However, it just meant that she had more of Riqre's attention.
She'd told him about her level and [Skill], but she hadn't mentioned the Djinni. That had been in part because Riqre hadn't asked, and because she was unsure about if it had really happened. She could've volunteered the information. That would've been the safe thing to do.
The problem with that... was that Riqre might turn his attention to the Djinni - even more than he already did. That would mean bad things for her savior, not to mention the other [Slaves] that might also be experimented on and flayed.
The Djinni still looked confused. Perhaps it did not recognize her?
"Uhm..." Laila swallowed again. "I had a different face when you first saw me. I, uh, looked like you at first." That assumed the Djinni had noticed her in their journey from Lailight Scintillation. "You also, maybe, visited me when I had no skin?" Laila looked down at her rough hands. She'd been born a Hemp, so she was aware of how people thought of them.
It was doubtlessly why she'd been chosen for Riqre's experiments in the first place. Simply put, she had been expendable back then. She might now be Silk everywhere on the inside, save for her head, but her replacement skin was cheap.
There was no reason to give her something more costly. In fact, it was a good thing in a way. If she'd been granted Silk again... that would only mean that Riqre would be visiting her. That was the only possible explanation. Her appearance mattered only so much as it appealed to him, or offended him to be in her presence.
The Djinni's eyes opened wide, and she smiled. So she did recognize Laila! She also made no effort to leave.
Laila swallowed nervously again. "Can I do anything for you?" The Djinni shook her head. "Would you, uh, would you like to sit?" Laila motioned to her plank.
The Djinni smiled and nodded. She sat down, and then motioned for Laila to join her.
Laila had no idea what was going on, but she obeyed the gesture. The pair sat on her 'bed' before the Djinni started stroking her hair.
Laila jerked away at the contact, but the Djinni kept caressing her like she was a pet.
No... it felt more intimate than that. Not the fondling of a owner, or a lover, but more like... that of a mother.
Laila curled up, and the Djinni kept petting her.
That night, she dreamed of how it had been before the [Raiders] had come.
Zehia prowled on top of the roof.
The [Guards] were alert. There were warding spells in place. The wall was high. It hadn't been the easiest task to slip past them all and into the inner compound, but she'd done it. They next part would be harder still. She had a mental list of all the [Slaves] that had sensing-[Skills], but those were only the ones that she'd noticed.
A girl that sniffed out moldy food from the pantry and carted it away.
A man who'd locked onto a fly from across the room and then followed its erratic flight path before killing it.
A woman who perked up whenever Riqre started moving and rushed to make sure his path was cleared out of any distractions.
Those were issues she'd have to overcome. They were not, however, the thing foremost on Zehia's mind. That would be the monsters in cages. Monsters that were currently eating human flesh. Human flesh that Riqre's [Slaves] were carving up and feeding them.
She was speechless.
It was only because of her good fortune that no one stumbled upon her while she was in a stupor from what she'd seen. It was monstrous - literally!
Zehia was no [Slave Master]. She did not have the [Class] or the desire to train Roshal's primary export. She did, however, know the laws. Laws that stated that some treatments of [Slaves] weren't to be done.
It was, admittedly, a pretty short list - and most of it only applied to those that didn't own the [Slave] in question.
That was one of the reasons for Leciaun. The holiday in which slavers and slave owners allowed their subordinates to do ANYTHING to a slave, short of permanent injury. If there weren't rules to relax, then such a celebration wouldn't serve as anything except a clearly political reaction to Cinaelu.
Actually, it primarily was that. Zehia knew enough about how the world worked to know that Roshal's public appearance was of vital importance to it.
This? This was a disaster waiting to happen.
Zehia retreated. Back to the outer compound, back to where she could sit and think without too much danger of being caught.
This changed everything... or did it?
She could leave now. She could return to Lailight Scintillation and tell them what she'd seen. The Emirs would enact her revenge for her.
For her, and for Roshal.
It would be hollow. Worst, she'd still be chained herself. Roshal did not compromise. She wouldn't even get her case re-evaluated. The Emirs' judgment was never wrong, to suggest otherwise was to invite disaster upon yourself.
She could go and whisper into the ear of someone sympathetic to her. She had a few 'friends' that she trusted. It was a short list, and Riqre used to be on it.
Such an action would probably lead to her revenge, in a round-about way. 'Justice' in Roshal happened to people in different levels of severity and at different speeds. For all she knew, there were countless Emirs that were corrupt and brazenly flaunted Roshal's laws too.
No.
Even if those two options didn't lead to her being imprisoned and enslaved, she wouldn't choose them. Part of it was her [Class]. After years of being a 'problem solver', she couldn't leave this in the hands of others. An [Assassin of Vengeance] did not leave things for others to handle.
The other part was that she didn't hold Roshal in such high regard anymore. She'd seen its pleasant veneer, she'd seen its corrupt underbelly (though, not as corrupt as this), but she had always thought that it was fine. She wasn't sent after people that didn't deserve it. The Emirs knew what they were doing. Roshal wasn't some idealistic place. It was grounded in the reality that 'noble' countries refused to accept.
Then, it had happened to her.
She knew that she'd be on the run for the rest of her life - at least until she could find a benefactor that even Roshal couldn't challenge openly. Wistram or the Blighted Kingdom perhaps. It made her despise all that she'd worked for.
That part of her told her to let Riqre be. Let him delve into horrors. Let him be a festering rot that kills its host.
Except...
Doing nothing was wrong. Letting those [Slaves] undergo whatever other tortures Riqre inflicted upon them was wrong. It crossed a line. Zehia wasn't an idealist, but she still recognized evil when she saw it.
"You've made wonderful progress, Laila."
"Thank you, Master Riqre." Her break was over, and she'd been flayed again. Even with her skin still attached, and therefore a part of her and not cloth, Laila didn't care. [Ignore Pain] had negated the agony, and the rest of her [Skills] did the rest.
Except for her head. It still felt bad when her face was flayed. Not as bad as before. There was no pain. The fear was still there... but it was more like discomfort than the deep pain of before.
A dark thought sprung up in the back of her mind. What would happen if they cut out part of her life thread? Would she die? Would she actually pass on her [Class]? She wasn't sure when Riqre would attempt that, but she was sure it was coming.
At least it wouldn't hurt.
"Yes, you have proven to be so remarkably malleable. It is time for the next step. Unate!"
The [Butcher] nodded, and began to cut into her. He wasn't going to skin her, instead he was peeling away her muscles and tissue. He found his target, and took it out before replacing it with new cloth.
It was the other [Slave] next to her, that Laila felt sorry for. She was one of Riqre's devoted. She was happy for this 'opportunity'.
Laila wondered if she'd scream.
Riqre had tried this in the past. He couldn't risk her life, but he could still try and make another [Slave] like her.
It had never worked.
The same torture that had resulted in her [Class] had killed everyone else. Devoted or not. Healthy or not. Age, sex, cloth - none of them had changed a thing. In the end, it was only due to his being distracted by something else that Riqre had decided to sell her.
Most failed products were buried in the basement and never saw the light of day again.
Then again, his other failed products weren't sellable. Laila had been the exception.
She wondered how much she had cost. Or what sort of conversation would lead to Riqre offering her to someone to buy?
The other woman screamed. She still had her skin. She'd smiled while Unate had been cutting her open. Once Laila's heart was in her chest?
She screamed.
Riqre watched as she strained against her bonds and bent her back so much it snapped.
"Such a shame. Such a shame." He shook his head and acted sad. "If the [Skill] could've been transferred, even if the [Class] failed, that would've been something." He frowned. "You are not high enough level, Laila. I'm sure once you get to level ten, the experiment will work." He let out a sigh. "Until then, there's only one way to level [Flayed Slave]." He turned and nodded to Unate. "Start over. Give her new skin, and then flay it. We'll repeat it as much as we need to."
...
Thankfully, even Unate needed to sleep. Otherwise, Laila would probably spend her nights strapped to the slab as well. She still had nightmares, but they weren't as bad. It might've been because the actual flaying wasn't as horrifying, or it might've been her visitor.
The Djinni didn't come by all the time, but she did visit most nights. It was like she was a stray cat that would wander in and make herself at home. Laila stayed up and waited for her. Her door creaked, and the black and white woman stepped through the entryway.
"Hello." Laila bowed her head and smiled. "It's nice to see you again."
The Djinni remained silent, but smiled in return. She walked over and sat down next to her on the wooden 'bed'.
"How was your day?" The Djinni shrugged. "Mine wasn't bad. My new [Skill] really helps. Riqre tried transplanting my organs again." The Djinni tilted her head. "Oh, I mean 'again' because he tried that when I first got my 'special' class. I'd thought I was special." Laila ruefully smiled. "Can you believe I actually listened to his other [Slaves] back then?"
Laila chattered away, while the Djinni listened. She knew she was listening because she reacted. The monochromatic woman never said a word, but she smiled, frowned, shook her head, or held her at all the right times.
She reminded Laila of her mother. Or, at least, how her mother had been once upon a time.
"I wish you could talk." She looked into the Djinni's yellow eyes. "I wonder what it's like being you. You're so much... more than all of us, but..." She didn't want to say the Djinni had it better or worse. Every [Slave] had their own tribulations. No two were the same, and you couldn't compare them. "I'd like to hear about your day. I want to understand you. I don't even know your name. Do you even have one? You understand me, so you must understand names as a concept." No matter how animal-like she acted, the Djinni was as intelligent as she was.
The Djinni held up a single finger, and Laila stopped speaking for a moment. "What are?"
She took her finger and placed it on the wall, her long finger nail moved through the brick like it was air, but left a gouge behind it as she traced a letter: 'S'
Laila blinked. Could the Djinni write? Was she?
'i'
Yes. This had to be her name? Were Djinni born with one? Did she choose it herself, or did someone else give it to her?
The Djinni's hand paused, before jerking. It was almost like she was fighting with herself to spell out the next letter.
'B'
Her eyes were narrowed, and her face scrunched in concentration, but the Djinni kept carving her name.
'B'
Letter by letter.
'Y'
Then she lowered her hand and stopped.
'SiBBY'
"You're name is 'Sibby'?" Laila looked up from the letters and asked.
Sibby smiled and nodded.
Zehia was frozen on top of the roof of one of the inner section's buildings.
She was invisible, and she was also prone. [Advanced Invisibility] was a potent [Skill], but she couldn't rely solely on it. Other [Skills] could pierce it. [Danger Sense], [See Invisibility], [Secure the Area]... it all came down to a high-stakes game that lower-level people weren't able to play. Furthermore, she could only use it for so long, and she could only activate it so often.
She tried to save it for an emergency, and this counted. A large, muscled, and scantily clad Stitchperson was intently scanning his surroundings as he slowly walked above her with a drawn sword. He was one of Riqre's 'loyal' [Guards], and he was quite good at his job.
Zehia's [Danger Sense] was screaming at her. She didn't know how he knew she was there, but he obviously did somehow. She couldn't count on him being bored or distracted. Riqre's personal [Slaves] were fanatics. He'd stay out here as long as it took. He'd die of thirst before abandoning his hunt. He'd certainly outlast her [Skill].
She'd have to run for it.
It was a poor option, but that was all she'd been left with. Moving greatly increased the likelihood of the [Guard]'s suspicions being confirmed. If Riqre knew that there was someone spying or trying to infiltrate his estate?
That would be bad.
If it came to that, it would be better to kill the [Guard] right now. That would raise an even bigger alarm... eventually. Getting Riqre while he was unprotected would be impossible after that happened. She'd have to finish this tonight!
Zehia slowly rose up and clenched her fists. She'd left her magical dagger outside, so as to more easily pose as a slave. She was regretting that decision right now. The [Guard] was looking right at her. No... he was looking behind her and to the side...
A hand patted her on the shoulder!
Zehia spun her head and saw the Djinni! The black and white woman smiled and subtly shook her head before walking past her. The hand she'd had on her shoulder rose up in a wave as she approached the [Guard].
"Siti`medaale." He straightened up and sheathed his sword. "It was just you." He let out a sigh. "I should have known. Excuse me." He bowed to the more valuable slave, and turned to leave.
Siti`medaale, the Djinni, watched him go with her hands on her hips. Once he was out of sight, she turned to face Zehia.
Could she see her? The Djinni's yellow eyes glowed in the dim light, and her hair billowed in the faint breeze.
Zehia slowly backed away, but Siti`medaale stayed still. She must have an order to find infiltrators. That meant that she would raise the alarm... but not immediately. Zehia knew enough about how Djinni could interpret orders. She'd helped her, but that didn't mean they were allies. She'd inform Riqre in time. She'd have to.
Damn.
Zehia couldn't even silence her. Killing a Djinni might be possible - if she had her dagger and took it unaware. Beating one in a straight confrontation was beyond her. She was no [Warrior] or [Mage].
Zehia retreated.
Her invisible form leapt from rooftop to rooftop before coming to the stone wall. She looked up. She'd have to time this just right. Being invisible helped, but wasn't a-
A hand patted her on the shoulder!
Siti`medaale had followed her!
Zehia hadn't even noticed. Her invisibility faded as she readied the best [Skill] she could use without a weapon. "So this is it then?" She whispered softly to herself.
The Djinni shook her head.
Zehia blinked. "You're not going to fight me?"
Another shake.
"Did Riqre not order you to kill intruders?"
Siti`medaale shrugged and smiled at her.
"You... can disobey?"
The Djinni's feral grin and nod filled her with fear... and hope. Could Riqre really have been so lax in his orders?
"Will you... help me kill Riqre?" It was an impossibility... yet, she felt like she had to ask. Every Djinni wished to kill their Master. If this one could disregard commands?
Siti`medaale nodded, and raised her hand like she wanted a... handshake?
Did she know about a Stringfolk custom like that? She HAD spent enough time prowling around Lailight Scintillation. It wouldn't be outside the realm of possibility to have picked up some simple gestures...
Well, what did she have to lose? Collaborating with a Djinni was a torturable offense, but so what?
"Help me kill Riqre, and I'll..." Zehia shook her head. "I don't have the [Skills] to free you, but you're already free in a way aren't you?" The Djinni's smile grew wider. "Fine." Zehia nodded. "Help me kill Riqre, and I'll let you leave and won't tell anyone about you."
Who would she tell, and why would she? Let Roshal burn.
The pair shook hands.