Chapter Three ~ Marked
Vahn continued enthusiastic announcement of the parade and festivities as he made his way through Ny’s crowded streets. He finished his arrangements with the third tavern and hurried onward. Upon catching sight of the large suns’ dial in the center of town, he frowned. Where had the time gone? He wanted to get to the ITC before it got too busy.
Vahn headed home with a spring in his step. It was odd how everything felt so alive and vibrant now, even with winter storms imminent. It had been a very long time since he’d looked forward to a homecoming. From far off, he could see a multitude of table linens and sheets fluttering in the breeze beside Rebono Keep. A smile formed.
At his gates, Vahn clasped wrists with the Captain of his Castle Guard, Lord Najost Shil. News of kee’s miraculous recovery had already spread. Vahn had told everyone he saw on his way out that morning. “Parade for kee will be at teatime,” Vahn said to Shil. “You shall lead a full honor guard in dress uniforms. Arx and I will walk. Also, please fit Lord Chupo with something suitable. I want him leading Fortitude with kee atop.”
“Excellent idea, your highness. His deep voice is perfect and no one else, besides you of course, can control that spirited creature. I thought we’d never catch him after the execution. I swear, he knew exactly what he was doing—looked like he conspired with the other horses to be sure Terzak’s torso came with him the way he ran it all through the mud and bucked at it.”
Vahn chuckled. “Yes, he did seem supremely pleased with himself even from my vantage point. There are no traces of the traitor’s body about town, I trust?” The last thing Vahn wanted was for kee to catch sight of the hand that had abused her.
“No. All the horses ended up here and the dogs gnawed a while before I decided Terzak wasn’t really fit for such fine dogs—”
Vahn interrupted him with a laugh.
Shil grinned and added, “I burned the remains and left his ashes with the koopchuk dung.”
“Very appropriate,” Vahn said.
“I’ll see to the details for the parade.”
“Excellent. You should also know King Arx will return here for supper.” Vahn tried to keep his tone even. He’d invited his brother, so he had no right to resent his presence. “Please see to the proper banners as you did before. I was too distracted to thank you, but I did appreciate it. There are about a hundred details I forgot then that I must do right this time.”
“Consider it done. Let me know if there’s anything else I can do.”
“I’ll do that, Captain. Carry on.” He rested in the knowledge that Shil and Chupo would see to the details.
Vahn bounded toward the great ebony doors that stood at the entrance to his home. First to catch his eye were the polished doorknobs and knocker. He’d forgotten they were silver. They hadn’t looked this shiny in months. The woman’s touch, he thought with a smile. Heavens, how he’d missed his domestics. Niles had kept the clothes washed and the food cooked, but no one could expect him to do as much as twelve women once had.
Vahn turned the knob and pushed open the heavy door. Willow’s smile and cheery greeting welcomed him.
He was slightly disappointed it wasn’t kee. Doubtless she was busy despite his suggestion she take it easy her first day out of death’s door. That she would have no part in shirking had been a foregone conclusion before Vahn even woke. kee had been up before the suns rose, snuck out of bed and down to the slave quarters, dressed in a house uniform, and returned to waken him with a kiss.
Their first kiss, the night before, had been sublime, yet it came on the wings of high emotion following her miraculous healing. This simple morning kiss, to him, had conveyed even more. He’d said before that Saerula never really loved him, but it had been a platitude to ease his heartbreak. Her feint was now so obvious he marveled that he’d ever believed it.
Vahn had wanted to pull kee back into bed right then and there, but her soft urging to find Arx and the promise of a real shave tore him from the bed. She slipped her hand in his and led him to his favorite chair, then disappeared into the bathing room. It took a little time for the hot water to travel down the gravity-fed plumbing from the Lens Tower, but it was still much quicker than heating on a stove.
That moist heat never felt so good as it did when she wrapped his face in the steaming towel, cooing sweet affections and kissing his brow. He sighed contentedly as she sharpened the razor on the strop, humming softly.
“kee?” The towel muffled his voice.
“Yes, Master Vahn?”
He moved the towel a little. “You don’t have to call me that when we’re alone.”
“kee knows, but kee did not accept your bands to pretend. Being your slave is not just some disguise. If kee were to switch her speech patterns back and forth, eventually, kee would make a mistake in front of others. Then you would be forced to discipline kee.”
He winced; she was right. It was a master’s prerogative to invite only one slave to his bed. Quite another to show favoritism in matters outside the bedroom. Could he bring himself to discipline her? He would hate such a situation far more than she. “Do you ever do anything without thinking of me first, my love?”
“No,” she giggled. “But if it’s any consolation, think of it as a code.”
He wrapped an arm around her waist. She rearranged the towel over his mouth just before he issued a muffled, “Code?”
“Master may mean many things to others, but to kee it is an endearment. When you hear it from kee, think of it as a code for ‘Beloved’.”
He released her, closed his eyes, and leaned back in the chair. “Mmmmn.” He’d have to think of some code word he could use for her. Right now, he was too distracted by her intoxicating scent and the sensual touch of her fingertips gliding soap over his face.
Her preparations took longer than his last optimess’s, but he’d not complain. He wasn’t sure whether it was the relish of something so long lost, or because kee was so dear to his heart, but he was sure this shave was superior to any he’d ever had.
A cough, presumably from Willow, drew Vahn out of his reverie, and he gave her an embarrassed pat on the back as he entered. A quick survey of the immaculate foyer sent his brows upward, accompanied by a soft gasp. “I hope you all are remembering to breathe.” He shook his head and smiled. “Do I have the right place? I was looking for Rebono Keep.”
The answer came from across the hall in a soothing alto. “This is Rebono Keep, Master Vahn.”
kee’s voice sent a warm wave up his spine and over his face. Certain Willow would notice him blushing, Vahn turned toward the voice. His gaze traveled down, for kee was shorter than he by two feet. Yet, she was not where he expected to find her.
“Welcome home, Master.”
Both his pointed ears and probing gaze now found his secret wife, on her knees with her torso bent over and her head pressed to the floor. The Submissive Kneel was unforeseen, even for her. “Thank you, kee. I don’t know what Terzak required, but a simple bow would have been sufficient.” He kept his tone light. It wasn’t a rebuke. Besides, her kneel reminded him not to follow impulse and embrace her. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Willow shudder at the mention of Terzak.
kee lifted her torso but remained on her knees. “The former marquis neither required nor deserved such an honor. You do. With your permission, kee would like to institute it among your domestic slaves. Willow and Niles would be exempt, of course.”
Vahn pondered. She’d never been so assertive before. Of course, she’d never been his optimess either. That spark of leadership made her all the more attractive and he hated to say anything that might dampen it. However, if he wasn’t careful, kee could inflate his pride into the realm of the Heavenlies. “Let us leave it as an option. If you do it, the adept will mimic you. But I will not request it, nor punish any who do not follow suit. Fair enough?”
“Whatever pleases you,” she replied, beaming that irrepressible smile of hers.
He extended his hand.
She shook her head as she revealed her palms. “kee has been polishing silver. Her hands are dirty.”
He did not retract. “So noted, but mine are also.”
She slipped her delicate hand into his and rose from the floor.
He kissed her forehead and turned to Willow. “Please tell Niles I want a simple repast for four in twenty minutes. kee and I need to leave soon.” Willow nodded and opened her mouth to confirm, when he remembered something. “King Arx will join us for supper. You and Niles will see to the details. A formal setting in the parlor, I think. Keep the menu simple. I am well aware how shorthanded you are. The state of the keep is no one’s fault but my own. I’d rather have my staff calm and confident in front of the king, than have the fixtures any shinier and you harried and exhausted. Please relay that to Niles.”
“Yes, your highness.” Willow dipped her head and hurried toward the kitchen.
Vahn tugged kee toward the stairs. His tone changed once they were out of Willow’s earshot. “I don’t know if I can do this, kee. When I see you, I want to take you in my arms.”
“You are the duke. Any maiden in the land could be yours with but a word.”
“I don’t want any but you.”
“You have kee,” she whispered.
He pulled her into the master suite and shut the door.
They were late to brunch. Neither Niles nor Willow said a word when they returned—scrubbed, redressed, and fresh. He didn’t care what his servants thought. He would maintain decorum in front of them, but even if they gossiped, he was safe because of kee’s bands. Engaging in recreation with one’s own slaves, especially when one was presumably single, was considered acceptable pastime for aristocracy, as long as one was discreet and guarded one’s noble seed. He’d never taken advantage of the laxity of the law while married to Saerula because he felt it would dishonor her and he only did so now with one slave, his secret wife.
“Your guests have not arrived, your highness,” Willow informed him.
“Yes they have,” Vahn said with a grin. “This brunch is for us. I want you, Niles, and kee to join me at my table.”
All three servants gasped in concert.
“I’m tired of eating alone. When I have no other guests, I would like company, and who better than my most trusted staff? I’m seeing to some new slaves today, but I reserve my table for those who have earned a place.” Slowly, the bewildered servants approached the chairs. Vahn nodded encouragement.
“Someone will have to train the new slaves, and doubtless some meals will require more attention in the kitchen. Niles and Willow, you may change out of your uniforms for supper when you join me.” He thought it best to give the free servants some small advantage so no one would guess his ulterior motive. kee would probably be least able to exercise the privilege, but he would find a way to share a meal with his wife occasionally.
Niles ate with all the refinement and confidence of a gentleman, even making polite conversation. Willow and kee, though both well-mannered, took very small portions and ate in silence. Vahn tried to remember the last time he’d eaten with kee, before she’d joined his house, when Saerula spent the entire meal prattling about her pregnancy woes. He recalled that kee had eaten very little then and decided it was an Itzi trait and nothing he should comment on. kee and Willow both knew he wouldn’t starve them like Terzak had, didn’t they?
The duke returned his gaze to his faithful majordomo. “Niles, as soon as I find a new cook, I’d like to promote you to Castellan of Mors Manor, if you’d like the position.”
“I’d be honored, your highness,” Niles said.
“The place is ransacked, but that was my doing. I think the peasants under Terzak’s heel needed some form of retaliation.”
kee and Willow nodded to that. When all had finished eating, kee stood and reached for the nearest platter.
“Let me get that, kee.” Willow gently removed the platter from kee’s hand. “You and the duke need to get going.”
kee followed him down the street, maintaining the respectful distance proper for a slave. He decided not to inform her of the parade until absolutely necessary. She’d either try to talk him out of it or spend her time fretting. “kee, what do you think I should request as criteria for new slaves?” he asked over his shoulder.
Bare feet hurried across the cobbles to make up some of the distance between them. She fell in a single pace behind him and furrowed her brows in thought. Could she possibly realize how much her subtle deferential gestures delighted him? She never assumed anything, never took advantage of her secret status. “Walk beside me, please,” he said softly. In two steps, she closed the space, then matched his gait.
“Perhaps willingness to learn is most important,” she offered.
“Excellent. Speaking of learning—I was serious about teaching Willow to read. Any other slaves I bring into the house can join her in lessons. You can do it openly. I don’t want you to hide your abilities.”
She bit her lips and nodded.
“Yes, I still think it best you hide your ears,” he added, guessing what concerned her.
“Hiding it from the other slaves caused resentment, Master Vahn,” she whispered.
“Hmm. I didn’t realize.” He studied her a few moments. Her eyes were averted and her face was neutral. He decided not to ask what form this resentment had taken. “Perhaps when a slave has earned your trust, you may bring her to me. I shall tell her, making it clear that you were under orders to keep it secret and emphasizing how painfully I might retaliate should she decide to spread our secret. Of course, no one will know the full truth.”
She grinned. “As you wish, Master.”
Her smile thrilled him. He wondered how long his title had been a secret endearment to her. Now that he knew, he could hear it in her voice. When he remained silent, she slowed until the original distance was regained, then shadowed his pace.
The “check-out” line was short at the Institute for Training and Correction. “Check-in” was empty. Vahn stepped up to the window and flashed a winning smile at the woman wearing purple silk with a gold embroidered ITC emblem.
“Good afternoon, your highness. May I help you?” asked the scribe.
“I’d like to see Lord Blackthorn. I sent word earlier to expect me.”
kee took a tentative step. He didn’t want to ask the check-in scribe about her Owner’s Mark. Blackthorn was the Headmaster and a friend. He’d know who was the best tattooist and could ensure kee saw no other. Vahn prepared to raise his hand if kee spoke, knowing it would take nothing more. She didn’t need even that.
“He’s waiting in Faithful Obeisance Chamber. It’s down the—”
“I know where it is, thank you.”
The scribe dipped her head and Vahn gave an automatic return of the courtesy. He strode down the stone hall, then stopped at the door and stood aside for kee to pass.
“Standard announcement?” she whispered.
“Yes, I think so. He’ll be more interested in you than me anyhow.”
She looked puzzled by his prediction, yet proceeded without question. She opened the door, backed out of his way, and announced proudly, “His Royal Highness, Prince Vahn Rebono, duke of Latoph.”
Galen Blackthorn sat at his desk in Faithful Obeisance Chamber, quilling notes to parchment records. Duke Vahn had sent word he wanted a meeting sometime between late morning and early afternoon. Blackthorn didn’t want to be with another client when the duke arrived. Besides, he assumed the duke would ask him to give kee’s eulogy and the very thought made him much too furious to train slaves right now. Assisting with Terzak’s execution had not alleviated Blackthorn’s anger as much as he had hoped.
He was vaguely aware when the door opened, but too engrossed in records to look up. It was likely another page with a question or message. Since he started, he’d been interrupted three times and paid it no heed.
That voice, however, demanded a look. He couldn’t believe his eyes. “kee? Is that really… but how…?”
kee merely smiled and nodded. Duke Vahn made his way through the door while Blackthorn jumped out of his seat and bounded across the room, excitement bubbling into a giddy grin while his gaze took in her miraculous appearance. There she stood—her young face unscarred where the night before he’d seen jagged gouges stitched in black thread. She’d barely had the energy to speak—wounded, emaciated, and dying. Now she stood there without any signs of weakness, looking as vital as the first time he saw her.
He nearly hugged her before it registered that she wore the duke’s house uniform and his silver slave bands. He caught himself just in time to avert a serious breach of manners. “May I?” he asked her master.
“By all means,” Duke Vahn chuckled.
Blackthorn whisked her up in his arms and spun her in a circle. She rewarded him with a demure giggle. He set her down, shaking his head. “Look at you! Here I am all despondent because I lost my best student and you were faking it!”
“No, Lord Blackthorn,” she gasped.
“We have Archmage Raedan to thank for her recovery,” Duke Vahn said.
“Well, this is wonderful. Thank you for bringing her by, your highness.”
“Not at all. We have several items of business here. My optimess asked for an Owner’s Mark and I agreed, as long as it’s tattooed. I want a facsimile of my house crest—in color, good detail. Whom do you recommend?”
“I think Lewart Pons would be the best man for the job. When did you want it?”
Vahn glanced at kee. She nodded emphatically. “As soon as possible,” he answered.
“I’ll send for him right now.”
“Please do. I also need to discuss rebuilding my house, but I’ll wait until you return.”
Blackthorn nodded and stepped out.
Vahn turned to kee when they were alone. “If this hurts or you change your mind, don’t be afraid to say so. You don’t have to do this for me, all right?”
She stepped to face him and gazed up into his eyes, taking both his hands in hers. Her hands were soft and warm. Vahn felt a shiver course his spine.
She spoke in a dulcet purr. “Would you have removed your wedding ring if it were merely uncomfortable?”
“No,” he admitted. “But I’d have it enlarged or replaced without a second thought.”
She smiled, her crystal blue eyes sparkling like the sea. “You’ll not be replacing kee. You’re stuck with her forever.”
“Just how I like it.” He drew her into an embrace and then a lingering kiss.
Blackthorn found Pons cleaning his needles. “I need you to come quickly to Faithful Obeisance. Duke Vahn has a job for you. Bring the colored ink.” The young man blinked, doubtless startled at the request. He mostly tattooed numbers which dictated the year a term of indenture ended. There was an occasional Owner’s Mark, but even those were likely to be black.
“Right away, milord.”
Blackthorn left him to finish his task and gather the proper tools. He returned to his training chamber to find the duke and his optimess in an embrace. He berated himself silently for not having knocked.
The duke didn’t seem angry for the interruption when he broke the kiss and turned to wink at Blackthorn. The duke grinned mischievously and said, “Three hundred.”
Blackthorn understood. The only deduction taken in kee’s slave training score was for her begrudging attitude toward “pleasuring”. She was sixteen at the time—two years from when Itzi were normally allowed to mate. This was the duke’s subtle way of declaring she had overcome that “fault”, though he had never seemed unhappy with her previous score, a Twelve Kingdom record.
“Indeed,” Blackthorn said with a smile.
kee blushed. Though Blackthorn saw questions in her averted eyes, she held her tongue and made no movement toward breaking contact with the duke. Just as I remember her, Blackthorn thought fondly, leaving every decision to her master.
“Pons is on his way,” he reported.
“Very pleasing,” Duke Vahn said. He released kee’s hands. She slipped to his side and sank silently to her knees. “Now, as for my house. kee is my optimess and Lady Willow is staying as a hired servant. I still have Niles, but not for long.”
Duke Vahn reached over to stroke her hair. It was good to see her back with him. kee had never looked right in the marquis’ mismatched steel and copper bands and those hideous harlot-skirts of his. Moreover, nobility or not, Terzak never deserved the caliber of slaves the duke had given him, even before he was proven a traitor. Blackthorn found himself staring at the duke’s hand and pried his gaze back to the duke’s face.
The duke explained, “I’ve appointed Niles as Castellan of Mors Manor. So I’ll need a new cook for Rebono Keep.”
A knock sounded. “Enter,” Blackthorn said. The door opened. “Ah, Lord Pons. Please meet his highness, Prince Vahn Rebono, duke of Latoph.”
Pons hurried in, dipped his head to his supervisor first, and then bowed deeply before the duke. Blackthorn was relieved Pons had sense enough to wait for the duke to speak first. It was a hazard among those who worked with slaves to forget they were not always the superiors.
“So you are Lord Blackthorn’s best tattooist?” Duke Vahn asked.
Pons blinked and shot a dumbfounded look toward Blackthorn.
“He is, your highness,” Blackthorn answered.
“Very pleasing.” The duke released Pons from the bow with a wave. “I want a reproduction of this crest, simplified as necessary.” He removed a scroll from his jerkin and unrolled it. On the parchment was an engraved replica of the three-foot bejeweled crests that adorned the gates to Rebono Keep. “Would you do me the favor of a drawing before I allow you to dabble in the delicate skin of my optimess?”
Pons accepted the parchment with a nod. “Yes, your highness.”
“I assure you I will pay handsomely for a job well done. But be forewarned: kee has my permission to terminate this at any time if you become too rough.”
Pons gave a questioning look at his supervisor. Blackthorn frowned back. “Duke Vahn is the customer. Do you have any problem with his request?”
Before Pons could answer, the duke interjected, “No, I am not the customer. She is. I want it clear right now I do not require this Mark as a point of obedience or even to gratify my whim. It pleases me to commission it as long as she agrees.” He pulled his royal signet from his forefinger, lifted kee’s hand from her lap and placed the ring into her palm. “She speaks for me.”
Blackthorn was as stunned now as Pons looked earlier. He was sorely tempted to take the young duke aside and explain how utterly ignoble he made himself look. Blackthorn tried to conceive some slave-training regulation he could use as a pretext. Still, he was the duke, and undoubtedly the best customer Blackthorn had. Blackthorn cleared his throat. “Understood, your highness,” he said with as much respect as he could muster.
kee looked horrified. She curled her fingers around the ring just enough to keep it from escaping her grasp while not touching it any more than she had to. Blackthorn imagined she was searching for some excuse to give it back. Yet like he, she found none and therefore did as her station required, remaining silent and compliant.
“Yes, understood,” Pons said. The tattooist turned and headed to the table with the parchment. He set his bag of tools down, then started drawing.
Blackthorn watched only a second, then turned back to the duke. “Forgive my manners. Would you care to sit?” He swept his arm over the whole room, letting the duke choose from several possible seats.
The duke nodded. “Please attend me, kee,” he whispered. She bowed, waited for him to pass, and then stood and heeled him. It was hard to believe she hadn’t been with him for over a year. They moved together like performers in an elaborate dance.
When Blackthorn followed, kee adjusted her pace to allow him room ahead of her. Duke Vahn sat first, then Blackthorn. kee waited until both were seated.
“May kee bring any refreshment?” she asked.
Blackthorn smiled. Ah, the joy of having a slave who didn’t wait to be ordered.
“No, thank you, kee. I’ll be leaving as soon as Lord Pons satisfies me he is ready to begin,” the duke said.
“Nor I,” said Blackthorn. He’d not drink in the duke’s presence alone. After too much time had passed, he berated himself for not thanking her. He normally didn’t thank slaves as a matter of course because it taught them to expect courtesies they often wouldn’t get. But kee was not in training and her master had done it first.
kee knelt gracefully at her master’s feet and thereafter held a silent vigil. Blackthorn was glad he didn’t have to watch her for signs of movement. That girl could hold a motionless kneel for hours.
“I want to build my house up again,” the duke said, “beyond its former glory. I’m going to modify the slave quarters, so I think I’ll have room for twenty females. Do you have my preferences on file?”
“I’m sure we do. In fact, I believe I may have a maiden nearly done with standard training if you’d care to see her?”
The duke arched a brow. “I’m afraid I can’t today. The king is coming to supper and I have a very busy afternoon planned. Would tomorrow be convenient?”
“At your leisure.”
“Excellent. While I’m here, I’d like to modify my preferences. Appearance is no longer relevant. I don’t believe any of them can possibly rival kee.” His hand drifted again to her hair. kee blushed, though her eyes sparkled with pride. With any other slave, Blackthorn would worry such a compliment might go to her head. “So we may as well concentrate on more important matters. I’m more concerned they be compliant and loyal.” The duke paused and stared at Blackthorn. “Oh, and kee will be teaching all my slaves to read.”
“Are you saying you only want Elva then?”
“No, I think I prefer Itzi. But if you find a worthy Elva, I’ll consider her.”
Blackthorn wondered how many more surprises the duke planned to spring on him today. He couldn’t imagine why the duke would waste the time to teach Itzi, not to mention it was probably doomed to failure. “Just because kee can read doesn’t mean all Itzi will be able to, you understand.” He regretted his words as soon as they left his lips. Who was he to lecture the duke on Itzi intelligence?
The duke cocked a brow. “You think kee is that much smarter than other Itzi?”
Blackthorn swallowed. This was a dangerous question, especially in light of the way Duke Vahn was treating kee today. He felt the blood leave his face. “I believe, your highness, that kee is very special.”
Duke Vahn chuckled. “Agreed. I will not force any who don’t want to learn, nor will I hold any expectations for those who attempt it. I simply offer the opportunity, as long as it doesn’t disrupt the house. It will do wonders for kee’s reputation if she can teach the ‘unteachable’, won’t it?”
Blackthorn knew a rhetorical question when he heard it. He nodded, then snuck a glance at kee. She appeared to be biting her lips and her eyes were fixed on the floor, even lower than requisite to show respect. Duke Vahn was overdoing the gratitude for saving his life. Blackthorn wished he had the right to tell him so, but it was not his place.
Pons approached the duke and offered a parchment. He’d scaled the crest down without much simplification. Both Pons and Blackthorn held their breaths while the duke studied the drawing.
“kee, how does this look to you?” The duke placed it at her eye level.
She smiled and nodded. “kee is very happy with it if you are pleased, Master.”
“It is acceptable.” The duke looked back up. Pons and Blackthorn exhaled. “That being the case, I must leave you.” He stood. “If you finish before I return, feel free to put her to work.”
“We’ll take good care of her, your highness,” Blackthorn assured him.
The duke nodded back with a look that said, ‘Of course you will, or I will have heads rolling’.
kee bent at the waist and lowered her torso to the floor in the Submissive Kneel. She kissed the duke’s boot then laid her cheek to rest where she had kissed. Blackthorn smiled to himself; he enjoyed Duke Vahn’s customized farewell ritual.
“kee, optimess of the house of Prince Vahn Rebono, duke of Latoph—I leave you in the care of Lord Galen Blackthorn and his associate, Lord Pons. Wherever you are, you represent me and my house.”
“kee wishes only to bring honor to your house and name, Master,” she replied with her cheek still resting on his foot.
“I trust you shall behave as befits your house, and remain until I return. May the Heavenlies deal with you severely if you violate this sacred trust.”
“May kee’s very life be forfeit if she violates your trust or honor, Master Vahn.”
“Please rise,” he said, offering his hand. She kissed his boot, then slipped her hand into his. She must have deposited the ring in his palm as she let go, sly little thing. She turned immediately toward Pons and clasped her hands. Duke Vahn looked at first hurt, then seemingly torn between annoyance and embarrassment.
Blackthorn watched out of the corner of his eye, his head following Pons and kee to avoid adding to the duke’s discomfort. Blackthorn wasn’t sure what he’d do in the same situation. Her action could easily be construed as insubordinate. However, it was absurd to give a royal signet to a slave to begin with. Returning it spoke volumes of respect for her master and his position. She had done it secretly enough that Pons probably didn’t know and Blackthorn would have missed it had he not been watching so intently.
The duke pressed the ring back onto his forefinger without comment. Blackthorn made sure he was looking elsewhere by the time the duke looked up. Blackthorn turned to offer his hand in farewell.
“May I see you in the hall, milord?” the duke asked quietly.
“Of course, your highness.” Blackthorn hoped he didn’t sound nervous.
Blackthorn followed the duke out the door, then shut it, making sure the lock clicked. Any other time, leaving it unlatched could cost him a slave and probably his position.
“The king and I will host a heroine’s parade at teatime,” the duke whispered. “I wanted to make sure you knew, since you’ve had no chance to hear in the streets. kee doesn’t know yet.”
Blackthorn tried to manage a smile. Perhaps before the ring incident, he’d have thought the gesture a magnanimous one. Now he felt sorry for her. He kept quiet a moment, weighing whether or not to say anything, and if so, what. He’d never been in the position of thinking an owner treated a slave too well. But both the duke and kee had been through a lot in the last few days. He decided the duke deserved greater latitude than usual.
“She will be ready on time, your highness. I’m not sure I can get away to attend, but please convey my regards to the king.”
“I will. kee already saw your reaction to her recovery. I thank you for that.”
“My pleasure.” They grasped forearms and shook firmly before the duke disappeared down the stone-lined hall.
kee held tight rein on her expressions, but she was disturbed. She had never felt such irritation toward Master Vahn before, and her feelings both alarmed and angered her. She didn’t want special treatment; she just wanted everything to be like it was before Terzak.
Lord Pons bid her to sit. “This is to be on the forearm?”
She shuddered. That was where Terzak had branded her. Thank the Nymphs, the Archmage had removed that Mark, but the memory remained. “Is there another choice?”
“Well, some Permanents are marked on their cheek, so they cannot hide it. It’s unlawful to mark the cheek of a Numbered Slave, unless there has been a serious offense.”
“kee is not Numbered,” she said, baring her arm to prove it. He grasped her wrist lightly, taking the bared arm as an offer. She shook her head and retracted her arm. “kee would prefer the cheek, milord, if it is all the same to you.”
“You would?” She did not look him in the eyes, but she could hear the surprise in his voice. “It is certain to be more painful, and highly resistant to later removal.”
“Forgive kee for asking, but do you own slaves?”
“Two,” he said, sounding proud.
“If you planned to keep one for her all her days, where would you rather see the symbol of your house?”
“Her cheek,” he conceded.
“Then please Mark kee likewise. Do you wish kee to lay her face on the table or hold it upright for you?”
“The table would be better. You won’t get so tired and my hands will be more comfortable.”
She nodded, then turned her head and set it down on the table in front of him. “kee will not move nor speak until you give the word.”
“Good. It’s not often I get to work in color on such a lovely canvas. Let’s see if we can’t make something the duke will be proud of.”
It took great effort not to smile, but she kept her face muscles from flexing, lest she move the “canvas”. The needle stung as it entered, even moreso when the tiny bladder squeezed, forcing the acidic pigments into her flesh. For the first ten stabs, she seriously considered calling it off. Although she no longer held the ring, surely Lord Pons would stop after what Master Vahn had said. Yet, she didn’t want some ugly half-scribble on her cheek, declaring her cowardice to the whole duchy. The king was coming to supper. What would he think of his brother’s optimess? Besides, how could she fail to endure pinpricks after Terzak had seared her with a cattle iron? Deep breaths calmed her and helped her grow tolerant of the pain.
She was distressed at how quickly she felt restless. Two years ago, in this very room, she had held a motionless kneel for eight hours, breaking it only when her endurance ran out and she fell asleep upright. She’d been so crushed with that “failure”, so sure it meant the end of her appointment to Duke Vahn’s house. It was not until her graduation day she learned she’d set some kind of record. She remembered how happy Master Vahn was with her, how he’d put his hand on her head protectively and refused all offers of purchase.
“Can you shift a bit this way?” Lord Pons asked, pressing her chin up with one hand while pressing down on her forehead. She complied the best she could from her awkward position. “There. Perfect.”
He wiped her cheek with a wet cloth, then exchanged some of his tools. kee had trouble focusing and shut her eyes to keep from trying to follow his blurred movements. The needle jabbed into her face again. She clenched her teeth against the burn of injected ink.
Pons worked methodically. His placement had all the surety of an artist and his actions were swift and practiced, if not tedious.
Vahn hurried from the ITC to The Scarlet Dryad. There, the tavern keeper was perturbed he’d been given the least time to prepare for the evening’s festivities.
“What good’s it do to have ye paying the tab when I’ll have nothing to serve? Every last bit of vittles in town’s got to be done sold by now!”
“I didn’t think of that. I guess we won’t be coming here then. Take the day off and forget I mentioned it,” Vahn said with a sly grin.
“I thought ye just said ye couldn’t come for dinner.”
“King Arx will sup at Rebono Keep tonight. However, I thought we’d all stop in and make sure the gaiety gets off to a proper start. But since you don’t have anything to serve, the king can’t offer a toast, so never mind.” He smiled and watched the rotund Elva.
“I’ll find something, yer ’ighness. I promise ye, there’ll be something for the king’s cup.”
“I thought you’d find a way.”
The tavern keeper bustled back into his kitchen, barking instructions to his employees. Vahn did feel a bit guilty for the short notice. He penned a message to Niles, asking him to fetch four barrels of wine from the cellar and have Lord Chupo assign a slave from the Hypaethral Division to deliver them to the Dryad. Vahn paid a lad three coppers to deliver the message to Rebono Keep’s gates.
Vahn retreated to his private alcove in the tavern to find a group of men waiting for him. He searched their faces. “Ah, Captain Wolbar.”
The mariner stepped forward, his attempt at a bow not hiding his confusion for having been summoned. He looked about ready to bolt.
Vahn extended his hand. “You’re not in any trouble, if that’s what you’re wondering.”
Wolbar wiped his hand on a threadbare sleeve then clasped wrists with Vahn, his lips cracking to reveal a crooked-toothed grin.
“I know it’s late in the season, but if you’d be willing to pilot my yacht, King Arx will pay you to deliver his entourage to Rilad. You can winter there and bring a small cargo back to Ny next spring.”
“You’d let me take your Saerula?”
“Well, if you want the former duchess, you’re welcome to what’s left if I ever get my hands on her. However, I assume you’re referring to the vessel in sore need of a more respectable name. That will be my first task when you bring her back. I’ll hold The Rapier’s sails, so you’ll be sure to remember where to return her.”
Wolbar laughed—a deep, hearty sound that filled the whole tavern and probably escaped the walls. “Our young duke is wiser than his years!”
“Bring your sails to Rebono Keep tonight and you may haggle with King Arx over your wages. Just beware—Arx expected Zinto to take him for free.”
“I was ready to quit for the season. This trip’s just an extra coat of varnish for The Rapier.”
Vahn nodded. “King Arx wants to leave at first light, so try to take it easy at the festivities.”
Wolbar mock-pouted. “Biggest frivolity all year and I gotta miss it.”
Vahn tried to sound ominous. “If you don’t get the king out of here tomorrow morning, I’ll hold you responsible for the consequences.” Arx was likely to hire some half-witted deck-swabber to skipper his yacht, then accuse Vahn of another assassination attempt when they ran aground.
“I understand. I’ll bring her home intact.”
“I never doubted it.” The men exchanged another knight’s handshake.
“Now,” Vahn said after Wolbar left. He sank into his throne and studied the rest of the ruffians. Vahn lowered his voice to just above a whisper. “I have a bounty to offer.” He studied their expressions. He’d earned their jaded looks with all his offerings to find Saerula and his toddler son. “This is a new one,” he assured them. A few perked with interest.
“The late Marquis Terzak fathered a bastard son by an Itzi slave. The babe has red hair but pointed ears. He’s barely a week old now, small and sickly. He was sold on the illegal slave market in Ganluc. There can’t be many half-breed infants around, but I will examine any you find. The boy must not be harmed. Buy him quietly and keep my name out of your dealings.”
“What’s the bounty?” someone croaked.
“Two thousand gold plus recompense for costs.”
Several whistled.
“The last known owner calls himself ‘The Tongue Slicer’—a brute fond of rendering slaves speechless. I have no way to verify his identity or I’d put a bounty on him as well. But I do have someone who can identify the child.”
Vahn watched them slowly retract from each other, competition descending like a fog bank. “If I have the son of Terzak before the first snowfall in the Nivas Mountains, I’ll pay twenty gold to each who tries.” He waited for the inevitable raised brows. How would one prove he’d tried? Vahn didn’t care. He’d already given enough incentive with the bounty. He had another purpose in mind.
“Who would like the bonus in advance? Traveling in Ganluc is no easy matter, even in the summer. I don’t want anyone to wait.”
The men exchanged wary looks. He’d learned in searching for Saerula many of these shadowy figures couldn’t stomach being hired—it made them feel beholden and accountable. Three held their hands out. Vahn reached into his pocket and removed small cloth bags with the coins already counted. The open hands were paid.
Vahn held no illusions anyone would pay it back, no matter the outcome with Terzak’s son, but he hoped his pretense of calling it a bonus made them more comfortable. Maybe this half-breed slave would be easier to locate than the kidnapped Heir. Vahn tried hard not to think about little Dauntere. He would have himself in the full throes of depression if he didn’t fight it. “Any questions?”
They filed out of his alcove without so much as a ‘by your leave’. One man held back, darting nervous glances between his peers and the duke. Vahn slipped his hand into his pocket, then offered the man a cloth pouch. The man snatched it, nodded once, and darted out.
kee stopped watching the hourglass. The sand moved far too slowly. Besides, Lord Pons was not bound by time. She felt something between discomfort and pain for the duration, but she held her face in stony silence.
Blackthorn checked their progress periodically, peeking over Pons’ shoulder. The first time, he must have been shocked and mouthed something about the choice of the cheek, but Pons’ pointing at her seemed to satisfied the Headmaster. kee was relieved when Blackthorn whispered, “Excellent work,” the next time he passed. Pons seemed barely to notice, so intense was his concentration. She was vaguely aware Blackthorn sat at his desk writing or reading. A page or two brought him messages, one requiring his presence elsewhere.
She found herself relieved by his departure—not that she minded the company of her former trainer—indeed, today she’d felt more comfortable with him than with Master Vahn. She just couldn’t shake the feeling that her indulgence wasted Lord Blackthorn’s training area. She’d only followed Pons, of course, so the venue was hardly her fault, but she often shouldered guilt for matters beyond her control.
Blackthorn was absent for several hours it seemed, but time was passing oddly. She had a horrible feeling King Arx was waiting at Rebono Keep for his supper by now. Master Vahn,
too busy with preparations, must have forgotten to come fetch her, or maybe Lord Blackthorn met him outside to tell him this tattoo would take another week to finish. Blackthorn returned without any news, so she tried to stifle her worries.
“How are you doing, little one?” Pons finally asked.
“kee is…” Though she wanted to say ‘well’, it was a lie and too obviously so. “kee’s neck is stiff, but do not pay it any heed.”
“I could stop here, but I’d like to add some details if you can endure it. Stand up and stretch. I’ll find a looking-plate to show you what I mean.”
“Thank you, milord.” She stood and stretched, then rubbed her neck.
Pons left kee alone with Blackthorn. When she felt his gaze on her, she stopped rubbing her neck and sank to her knees. “Does it look pleasing, Lord Blackthorn?”
“I like it, kee, but you know my opinion doesn’t matter. I will tell you, though, no one here could have done better.”
She smiled and nodded. Pons returned with a polished silver looking-plate. He handed it to her and then crouched at her side. She took a deep breath and peered into the shiny surface. The crest was smaller than she’d imagined, no more than an inch and a half tall by an inch wide. The central sword was filled in with slate ink. The anchor behind that was black. A fish in the lower left was outlined, but her flesh showed through. An orange in the right corner was the proper color, and he’d even given the fruit a stem and single leaf, as the large crest had. The stylized ‘R’ at the top was a rich purple. kee gasped with delight.
Pons pointed with his needle. “I’d like to put scales on the fish here, and color in the leaf. I wanted to ask you about the hilt of the sword.”
“The handle is onyx, and the pommel and guards are silver,” she said absently, mesmerized at her reflection in the looking-plate.
“Very good. Can you hold still a while longer?”
“Yes, kee can. May kee suggest something?”
Pons blinked. “Please. You are the customer.”
She winced. “kee doesn’t mean to cause you more work.”
“Not at all. I want the duke to be happy.”
“That is kee’s wish as well. Perhaps a rope twisted around the hole in the anchor might look nice. Just an outline.”
“Hmm. Yes, I think you’re right. That would balance it perfectly. Are you an artist?”
kee shook her head. “Oh no.” She tore her gaze from the crest and offered the looking-plate back to Lord Pons.
“I beg to differ,” Lord Blackthorn said from across the room.
kee didn’t know what to say. She wouldn’t argue, no matter how vehemently she disagreed, but lying was equally wrong.
“Show him how you serve a chalice of wine sometime. If that’s not art, then I don’t know what is.”
Pons chuckled. “Can’t have any right now.”
kee felt the heat rise in both cheeks, the tattooed one stinging at the increase in circulation. “Thank you, Lord Blackthorn.”
Pons motioned her up from the floor. She retook her place at the table and laid her head at his fingertips. She flinched when he stuck her skin.
“I’ll be done soon. Just hold still…”
kee would have given a confirmation, but both nodding and speaking were impossible. She sucked in her breath and endured the poking and burning. She noticed Pons worked slower now. The minor details and fill-in seemed to be taking as long as the initial outline.
kee listened to the sounds in the room to distract herself from the fire on her face. Lord Blackthorn’s quill scratched over parchment. A knock sounded at the door, followed by the squeak of the knob. There was no nearby sound, but kee knew the door had opened because of the influx of noise and odors. The smoky smell of smithy forges wafted in and the halls echoed with barked commands, cracking whips, and cries.
She heard the door latch shut. Someone walked inside. The footsteps sounded as if they came even closer than the last messenger who had entered. She expected the visitor to satisfy his curiosity and then have a whispered conversation with Blackthorn.
“What in Byntar are you doing?” boomed through the air.
kee knew this Voice instantly, though its tone made all her flesh prickle. Pons jumped, though not enough to unsteady his hand. He regained composure. “I am placing your Owner’s Mark on your optimess,” he said calmly. kee was infinitely grateful she could not answer.
“On her face?” Master Vahn bellowed.
“You said she was the customer and this is what she requested,” Pons continued in an even tone without looking up. kee couldn’t imagine how Pons could remain so calm in the wake of that angry tone. Even knowing it wasn’t directed at her yet, her heart raced and her nerves twitched.
“She believed it would honor you more there,” Blackthorn added.
Master Vahn was silent. kee couldn’t decide if this was good or bad. She held her breath and struggled to keep from trembling.
“I’m almost done, your highness. May I finish before she shows it to you?”
There was a pause—not long, probably not even perceptible to the others, but it was no casual consideration for the noble who was usually so sure of himself and his words. When Master Vahn spoke again, it was different—honey-smooth and melodious, the Voice that melted her to the core. “Yes, please do, milord.” His footsteps carried him toward Lord Blackthorn’s desk where they exchanged whispers.
kee might have heard them were it not for her heart pounding in her ears. Suddenly the motives she’d thought were so selfless and honoring seemed quite the opposite. Who was she to decide where the Mark should go? Perhaps she had debased her master’s property and thereby dishonored him. Furthermore, there was nothing she could do to right it, save to submit to removal if he declared the Mark disdainful. She felt torn between wanting to please him, no matter the cost, and her own desire to keep the lovely crest and be done with further pain. She expected he’d wait until he had her alone to rebuke her, and that she dreaded above all else.
“Done,” Pons announced.
kee was concentrating so deeply on her inner conflicts that the announcement startled her. She lay still, gathering her wits and courage. Pons seemed to interpret her pause as reluctance and he was too eager to tolerate any tarrying. He grabbed her by the shoulders and pushed her up. kee snapped to attention, but with a seed of resentment. How dare he push the duke’s optimess like that.
She shot a look toward Lord Blackthorn and Master Vahn. Neither had seen. Would they have been shocked? Would her secret husband have put aside his dissatisfaction over the Mark to come to her defense? In the second before the other men looked up, kee swallowed her pride. Pons was not unlike her former master, Terzak.
She sank to her knees, straightened her back, and lifted her head, being sure to display her neck band prominently. If her master was going to be displeased with the Mark, she’d give him no additional cause for aversion.
Master Vahn turned from Blackthorn, then approached, his gaze glued intently to her cheek. kee froze and held her breath. When he reached her, he crouched to get a closer look. kee let her eyelids drop shut. She couldn’t bear to see him frown. A gentle finger glided across her lower jaw from ear to chin. Something in his touch reassured her. Even if he hated the Mark, his heart was still soft toward her. She released her breath.
He pressed up on her chin and she stood at his nonverbal bidding. Fear of his reprisal left and her eyelids fluttered open. She was careful to keep her gaze from meeting his. However, there was no infraction in taking in his overall expression. He smiled, an encouraging gesture that warmed her to the bone. “Very pleasing,” he declared aloud.
kee could almost feel Pons’ and Blackthorn’s relief, but no one could be more relieved than she. Then her master leaned in close and whispered for her ears only, “And the Mark is fine as well.” kee melted into a smile. “What do I owe you?” Master Vahn asked, looking back and forth between Blackthorn and Pons.
“The customary charge for an Owner’s Mark is fifteen silver, your highness,” Blackthorn replied.
“This is no customary Mark.”
Blackthorn nodded. “And you are no ordinary customer. Consider it our gift in honor of the occasion.”
kee assumed he meant her miraculous recovery, or possibly Terzak’s death, but she couldn’t imagine why Pons would care about either.
“Thank you, but I’d rather this be my gift to her.”
“As you wish,” Blackthorn said. kee noticed he offered no price.
Master Vahn reached into a pocket and pulled out tiny cloth bags. Coins tinkled within. He tossed a pouch to Pons. “For your exquisite artistry.” A second bag he tossed to Blackthorn. “For your wise recommendation and the use of your training space.”
Blackthorn slipped his pouch into his pocket, giving a stern shake of his head and a sharp look to Pons who appeared ready to open the other one. “Most generous, your highness. We thank you,” Blackthorn said.
“Good day now. I shall return tomorrow to examine that slave,” Master Vahn said, turning to the door.
“She will be ready, your highness.”
kee bowed her head to each in turn and then followed her master out.
