Chapter 13

Doran stared for a long moment, then finally lowered the goblet. "Preposterous!"

Roquan calmly folded his hands before him. "My Healer is more qualified to correct this flaw. My knowledge of the Draught extends only as far as..."

Doran waved his arm in the air. "I don't mean that! I mean the premise itself!"

Roquan raised an eyebrow. "That the Draught is flawed?"

"And what did you base this ludicrous idea on if your knowledge of the Draught is so limited?"

Roquan frowned. "I did not state ... never mind. Vanlo brought this to my attention originally."

"Yes, as I thought."

"And why is this a problem?"

"Because you are treating that man as if he were an avatar of the gods themselves!"

Roquan's gaze grew cool. "I will remind you it was he that saved Amanda's life."

"Yes, I am well aware of that. That makes him an excellent Healer, but it does not make him an expert in matters of the Draught, which is knowledge that he should not have had in the first place."

"Oh, really, Doran, I have had quite enough of this nonsense from you. Yes, nonsense. It was you of all people that said that things were changing in Oceanus, that many of the old rules did not apply..."

"But that is not sanction to gut them entirely!"

Roquan fell silent, more curious than upset at the sudden vehemence of his cohort's position.

Doran let out a gusty sigh and shook his head, turning away from Roquan and taking a step away from him. "The very idea that the Draught could damage the mind..."

"Why is it such a foolish notion? You are of a similar mindset to me, Doran. You prefer intelligence in a slave. Have you not been disappointed in the past that a slave turned out to be less intelligent than you had thought?"

"Well, yes, of course. But that is circumstantial! The original assessment is based on the one that brought the Captive. No Overlord has seen one before the Draught is given because the act of Portal transfer renders the Captive unconscious. How can Vanlo possibly know..."

"One of Vanlo's specialties is chemistry. He is perhaps best of all Healers in Oceanus in that regard."

"Oh, now, hang on, that is a bold claim!"

"It is merited by the evidence. It was he who concluded that Yarra was a native Narlassi instead of an outworlder slave based upon analysis of her blood. It was he who determined Jollis was the one responsible for the loss of his Portal sense. It was he who created a restorative for Amanda when she had lost so much blood, and did it in a fraction of the time a lesser Healer would have done."

Doran looked flustered, as if Roquan had suddenly stolen the initiative from him. "Assuming that I were to accept that, that still gives you no right to just hand over the formula."

Roquan frowned. "You have not heard a word I have said. He could have derived the formula himself. What I gave him was merely a formality."

"That is not the point!" Doran shouted.

"Then what is the point? There is nothing that says an Overlord cannot improve upon the Draught. How do you think we came up with the additive that increases sexual receptiveness?"

"Without a Healer's help, I wager!"

"Fine. So we do it your way. We wait another three or four generations of Overlords before we finally get one that has some knowledge of chemistry and actually wishes to improve rather than simply parrot a formula handed down on yellowed parchments that are as worn and tired as our own traditions. Until then, we can refuse to innovate and continue to stagnate. We can wallow in our elitist attitudes that we simply have and are the best, and that nothing else can ever hope to surpass either. Yes, let us just sit on our hands and do nothing. Perhaps we should have adopted that attitude at the Conclave, and let the Emperor decide how we should conduct our affairs."

Doran held up a hand, intending to wave it dismissively. Instead, he paused, then raised the other and turned it into a gesture of submission. "Enough."

Roquan's eyes blazed. "No, it not enough. What will be enough is for you to tell me what is it that has you this upset. You have been angry at me before for violations of protocol. You have claimed each of those to be so terrible, but you moved on once I make my case. You have never impugned the skills of my Healer before. What is it this time?"

Doran had to pause to collect his thoughts. Roquan's speech had made more of an impact on him than he had cared to admit. He heard a little of his own oratory prowess in Roquan's words and was impressed.

He turned his gaze to Roquan. The anger was gone, but his expression was no less grave. "I am upset because your little jaunt is threatening to unravel things with the other Overlords."

Roquan's brow wrinkled. "How is that possible? They know nothing of this."

"Oh, but they do now."

Roquan looked surprised. "I beg your pardon?"

Doran glowered. "I received a Farview this morning. From the Healer Guild Elders. Apparently they are quite nervous about what your Healer may be doing. They have been asking the other Overlords if they knew anything about some effort among us to improve the Draught!"

Roquan's eyes darkened. "I had no idea."

"Of course you didn't! You rarely consider the repercussions of your..."

"Reprimand me later. What of this? What is the Healer Guild saying to the other Overlords?"

"Consider yourself lucky for the time being!" boomed Doran with a wag of his finger. "There are two things working in your favor. First, they have not mentioned that you have let your Healer in on this venture, and second, they are just as concerned -- if not more so -- about what Freya is doing."

Roquan's eyebrows rose. "They are concerned about Freya still?"

Doran nodded. "Yes, quite a bit. I managed to wheedle a statement out of the Healer Elder that suggested they may cut Freya off from the herbs her Healer has been requesting."

"Doran, you should be much more gravely concerned about Freya's machinations than my own," said Roquan. "I have only the slaves' best interests at heart. I cannot imagine that Freya could claim the same."

Doran trudged to the cabinet and fetched a gourd of wine. "It's not like she needs to alter the damned thing any further," he muttered as he splashed red wine into his goblet. "Not with how her slaves are already practically mindless as it is."

"It is about time you admitted you feel the same way."

"Yes, and probably because I have been influenced too much by you," Doran declared, brandishing his goblet and spilling a drop or two onto the floor.

Roquan allowed himself a very small smile. "I trust you claimed ignorance of my activities."

"Oh, yes. We'll see how much they believe it. But you can expect the other Overlords to be chatting this up quite soon. You better have a good story ready."

Roquan considered. "Perhaps the truth is in order."

Doran scowled. "Not until you have that treaty signed. Then you can use it to cushion the blow. Speaking of which, is that Norlan back yet?"

"He arrived late yesterday. I was to meet with him today."

Doran took a long drink of his wine, then nodded. "Good, good."

"First I must meet with Uridon, as his clan arrived soon after Norlan. I need to arrange for his clan's pleasures this evening." Roquan turned away and headed towards the door.

"Well, don't take too long with that. The sooner you meet with Norlan, the better. With luck, we'll get this done. Then you could claim you intend not to Draught any Captive ever again and they will just think of you as the eccentric maverick that no one wants to talk about."

Roquan stopped at the door and turned to face his friend. "And they do not already?"

Doran actually laughed. "Perhaps. But I would appreciate you not giving them more reason to think as such!"

Roquan smiled. "I will attempt such in the future."

Doran drained the rest of his wine and regarded Roquan with wry amusement. "Somehow, I doubt you will succeed."

The woman that lay upon the treatment table was one of Roquan's older and most experienced slaves. Yet even with all her experience, this once a moon ritual overwhelmed her senses until she floated in an endless ocean of pure sexual bliss.

Her curly brown hair lay in disarray about her head as she panted heavily from between slightly parted lips. Her knees lay to either side, thighs spread wide and quivering with the soaring pleasure that radiated from her pussy in relentless and overpowering waves.

"That's it, Amanda," said Lanno, his lips curled into a wide smile. "You've got the outside done. Now work your fingers inward."

Amanda gave just a tiny nod of her head, her eyes never leaving her work. Her fingers lay pressed against the slave's folds. Both her hand and the slave's pussy glistened brightly with Kaylaxxa salve. Amanda's eyes flicked towards the slave's face as she curled her fingers and eased two of them into the slave's tunnel.

The slave gasped and arched her back. Her pussy clenched around Amanda's fingers, then let go as another orgasm swept over her. Her breathing became a staccato pant.

"Did she tighten up on you?" Lanno asked, stepping closer.

"For a moment, yes," Amanda said without looking up.

"That generally happens with older slaves, since they're just so used to doing that during sex. It becomes almost reflex. Here, give me your other hand."

Amanda lifted her free hand and let Lanno grasp it. He guided it to a spot above the slave's delta.

"Press your fingers here ... a little more to the left ... right there ... okay, now go."

Amanda nodded and eased her fingers forward. They slipped in easily. There was another gasp and another soft cry as the slave's pussy again strained and crested.

"Don't be shy about it, Amanda," Lanno said. "Really go in deep and hard. You won't hurt her, not as excited as she is and as slippery as the Kaylaxxa is."

Amanda hesitated before finally shoving her fingers in as far as they would go. The slave's head lolled to one side as the sensations cascaded into a single, rolling climax. She let go of any remaining coherent thought and let herself be carried away on a wave of sexual bliss, her lips slowly curling into a smile.

Amanda's eyes widened. "Is she... ?"

"Keep going. And keep the pressure up on that point so she doesn't clench on you again."

Amanda never thought she would be on the giving end of this treatment. Kaylaxxa was a hygienic salve that killed pathogens in the genital tract. It was a required regular treatment for all slaves. To make it pleasant for the slave -- and to encourage him or her to seek the treatment -- the Kaylaxxa was infused with other herbs that made the genitals hypersensitive.

First impressions are lasting ones, and the one Amanda had for Kaylaxxa had been a bad one. The Imperial spy pretending to be a slave had administered it to her and had purposely used a concentrated dose to render her incoherent. Until the effect had faded, even breathing too deeply would trigger another orgasm.

Since then her treatments were normal and never overwhelmed her as much. But she was wary each time she submitted to it. Though now she wondered how she would react to her next one, which would likely be dispensed by Lanno, given that she had established such a rapport with him.

"Very good, Amanda," Lanno said. "Almost done. Angle your fingers down a bit ... now to the sides ... a little more firm there..."

Amanda was not used to seeing a slave simply accept the treatment and give into the pleasure so completely. It was almost as if the slave welcomed being mindless for a short while. The idea sent a chill down her spine.

"And ... done!" Lanno declared.

Amanda gratefully withdrew her fingers with a squelching sound. The slave gasped, strained, and shuddered as she went over once more.

Lanno handed Amanda a towel. Amanda nodded gratefully, letting out a sigh of relief as she stepped back. She looked at the slave as she wiped her hands. The slave's smile had widened, and her eyes were closed. She let out a low "mmmm..." sound.

"She'll be fine," Lanno said with a grin, placing a hand on Amanda's shoulder. "You did that very well."

"That's going to take some getting used to, Master," said Amanda. She used Lanno's title whenever other slaves were around. Vanlo had requested that of her, since it would be bad form otherwise.

"Is it? You didn't seem too unhappy with doing it."

Amanda tilted her head. "And how would you know that, Master?" she asked, half in curiosity and half in challenge.

Lanno grinned. Amanda uttered a soft gasp, and her hips jerked. There was a faint wet sound, and a low, sultry sigh from Amanda's lips. She swallowed and barely resisted the urge to swing her hips forward.

Lanno withdrew and lifted his hand. Two of his fingers glistened with Amanda's moisture.

Amanda's eyes grew defiant, though more teasing than hostile. "Maybe I was thinking of something else at the time," she said loftily.

Lanno's grin widened. "Oh? And what would that be?"

One corner of her mouth curled. "Maybe I was thinking of you."

"Really? I excite you that much, hmm?"

Amanda's eyes gleamed. "Maybe."

"And maybe you're just looking forward to when I get to give you your treatment next."

Amanda was surprised to find that she greeted this with no trepidation whatsoever. There was even a hint of anticipation. She gave him a mischievous smile and said softly, "And maybe you don't need that to make me cum that much."

Now it was Lanno's turn to be surprised, and he felt his manhood stir in response to her flirtations. Amanda's eyes flicked downward. She giggled softly.

"Oh, now, that's hardly fair," Lanno said with a smirk. "You..."

"AHEM."

Both Amanda and Lanno looked towards the entrance to the back room. Vanlo stood in the doorway, tapping his fingers against the frame.

"Yes, well..." said Lanno awkwardly. He turned back to Amanda and took a step back, hiding his damp fingers behind him. "Well done, Amanda. That was very good for your first go at this."

"Thank you, Master," said Amanda.

"Amanda, I need to see you for a moment, if you would," said Vanlo.

Amanda glanced at him, looking for a moment like the child having been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. She nodded once and handed the towel to Lanno before trotting over to the older Healer.

Vanlo shepherded Amanda to the counter that held his apparatus. Next to it, three bottles were lined up. Each one had a liquid in it in different shades of reddish-gold.

"Now, then..." Vanlo began.

"I'm sorry, Master Vanlo," said Amanda in a low voice.

Vanlo paused. "Sorry for what, Amanda?"

"For... " Amanda paused. "Aren't you going to be upset with me for what I was doing with Lanno?"

"Ah, that. Hmm. Yes, well, where I am well past the age to experience such pleasures, I don't believe I can count myself knowledgeable enough to dictate what you can or cannot do." He stroked his beard. "But I suppose I should ask for a little more discretion."

Amanda nodded, relieved that she had not angered him. "Yes, Master Vanlo. Sorry about that."

Vanlo smiled. "I must admit, it does become hard to consider you a slave sometimes. Perhaps after the current crisis is over, his Lordship would see his way clear to relaxing some of the protocol in your case."

Encouraged, Amanda smiled and nodded quickly. She held her tongue as to her further thoughts. She wanted to see it relaxed for other slaves as well.

"Now, the reason I called you in here, Amanda, is this." He gestured towards the flasks. "From this point on, when you clean out the flasks from my failed attempts, you need to use protective gloves. Some of these contain herbs that can be absorbed through the skin."

Amanda looked alarmed. "Failed attempts? But I thought..."

Vanlo held up a hand and smiled. "Do not fear, Amanda. Yes, these are failed attempts, but a totally different type of failure. This type actually gets me closer to the goal. Each one you see is a little better than the last."

Amanda nodded. "How much longer do you think it will take you, Master?"

"Hmm. That I cannot say. But at least now I do feel I will eventually reach the goal."

"And do you think you can make something that will fix slaves that have already had the Draught?"

Vanlo looked thoughtful. "Now that I know that the effects of the Draught are not permanent changes, it is quite possible. But ... I am in a quandary as to how to select one on which to test it. There is more inherent risk with using this on the already Draughted."

"I'm not sure I understand, Master."

"It is a matter of volition, Amanda. If we were speaking of one that has not had the Draught, I could simply ask that person if he or she wishes to incur the risk. I would be assured of receiving an answer that was based on the person's own choice. I cannot be assured of this with a slave. Do you see why?"

Amanda sighed. "Yes, I do. You're not sure whether or not she's agreeing because she really thought about it and accepted the risk, or she's doing it because she's a slave and she's expected to do as she's told."

"Precisely."

"But ... but if you could find a slave that was more intelligent? That maybe could really think about it?"

Vanlo scratched his chin. "Did you have someone in mind, Amanda?"

"Well ... Master Roquan always said that he thought Sirinna was one of his most intelligent slaves."

Vanlo nodded. He knew that Amanda would suggest her. He doubted that Amanda's thinking was purely logical, but she was correct. Sirinna was the smartest after Amanda, but Vanlo was not sure it would be good enough for him.

But if not Sirinna, then who? "I will consider it, Amanda," Vanlo said.

Amanda smiled.

Now Vanlo feared he had done it again, that he had given Amanda false hope. He would have to discuss this with the Overlord at length.

As he allowed his temporary slave to dress him, Ambassador Norlan pondered his next move.

He had not gleaned quite as much information from the merchant as he had hoped. It was good that he had all but confirmed that Jollis was a foreign merchant, and possibly a foreign agent as well. It was clear that Jollis had his own agenda. What was not yet clear was whether he would be open to any sort of deal.

Norlan lifted his arms to allow the slave to slip on his tunic. He shrugged his shoulders into it and watched as the slave straightened and secured it with aplomb.

He let a sigh escape his lips. It was also very clear that Roquan would continue to be unyielding on this one point. The issue over the sex seals was a deal-breaker. It was one concession he could not make.

The slave picked up his boots, presenting them to Norlan for his approval. The Ambassador examined them with a critical eye. The leather shined. He nodded once in approval and sat down. The slave dropped to her knees to apply the boots to his feet.

What he really needed was a way to contact Jollis. Perhaps simply the idea that the Urisi could track him down would make him think twice about moving against them, and thus he would be more open to a deal.

After the slave put on his first boot, there was a sharp knock at the door. "Enter."

The door opened and a lithe man slipped inside. He was brought up short when he saw the nubile maiden at the Ambassador's feet. "Oh! Beggin' yer pardon, my Lord..."

Norlan's head snapped around. He had expected the Overlord to be standing there. Instead, it was a young man wearing the colors of the Ne'land merchant clan. "Yes, what is it?"

The young man's gaze was distracted for a moment by the slave. The slave noticed his attention and smiled pleasantly. The man offered a weak smile in return.

"Ahem. You came here for something?"

The merchant blinked and look at Norlan as if only now realizing he was there. "Oh, um, yes, my Lord. I have something for you."

"For me? I did not order anything from the merchants."

"I am a courier, my Lord. I have already been paid to give you this."

He pulled a hand from his pocket and opened it. Perched upon his palm was a blue pearl.

Norlan raised an eyebrow. "One moment."

He waited until the slave had put on his other boot. He stood and turned. The slave draped his cloak around his shoulders. Norlan yanked the ties into place, waving away the slave's attempt to do them. The slave folded her hands demurely before her and stood off to the side.

The merchant stepped forward. "It is a Farviewing pearl, my Lord."

Norlan was about to take it when he paused. "Oh? And to whom is it linked?"

"Overlord Freya D'yros, my Lord."

"The name means nothing to me."

"She wishes you to contact her, my Lord."

Norlan nodded and took the proffered pearl. "Very well, I will summon her at my earliest convenience."

"Um ... my Lord, I was told to ask you to Farview her now and then retrieve the pearl from you. It is to go to Overlord Roquan D'ronstaq."

Norlan thought this curious, to say the least. "Wait outside." He turned to the slave. "You as well."

The slave looked a bit nonplussed at the order, but she bowed her head respectfully and exited with the merchant.

That was another rather significant difference between Oceanus and the Urisi Nation. Oceanus Overlords trusted their slaves to remain in the room when sensitive matters were discussed. This was not so for the Urisi. Slave loyalty was not as implicit.

Norlan placed the pearl by the hearth and waved a hand over it. It began to glow brightly. Not long after he stepped back, Freya's image shimmered into view.

"Lord Ambassador Norlan of the Urisi, I presume?" said Freya's image.

Norlan did not make any obvious note of either the Overlord's brazen manner of dress, or the very casual and almost sultry tone to her voice. "I am. You are Overlord Freya D'yros?"

She nodded once and smiled. "Ambassador, I have some information for you that may make your negotiations with Roquan go a little more smoothly."

Norlan recognized the situation at once. One member of a social caste was attempting to elevate herself above another of the same caste. It was unlikely she had any interest in the treaty itself but what it could do for her personally. And that was generally the type of person who was worth the time of day in any negotiation.

"Go on," said Norlan. "I'm listening."

"Roquan! It is good to see you again!" boomed Uridon Ne'land as he grasped the Overlord's hand and pumped it vigorously. His eyes and mouth crinkled at the edges as he smiled, though there was a tired look to his face despite his exuberance.

Roquan clasped Uridon's shoulder with his free hand. "The sentiment is mutual, Uridon."

"I regret that our clan has not made it to your Manor before now," the heavyset merchant clan leader said as he stepped to the other side of his tent. He picked up two ornate glasses filled with deep amber liquid and handed one to Roquan. "But things have been rather dicey lately in Oceanus, to say the least."

"Have the clans been harassed by Imperials?"

Uridon paused to take a sip of his brandy. "Not yet. Not extensively, anyway. Just the usual stops at the borders between Imperial and Noble lands looking for contraband." He snorted. "An insult! The Guild pledged from the start not to trade war supplies to either side."

"Yet from what I hear, the merchants have been playing favorites." There was no admonishment in the Overlord's voice.

Uridon glowered. "Yes, well, there is that..."

"Is there a problem?"

"The Guild Hall is not happy with that situation. All the clans have taken it upon themselves to restrict their dealings with the Emperor."

"It seems that the clans have the fortitude that the Guild Hall lacks."

"To say the least! But mark my words, the Guild Hall will look the other way. Thanks to me, they've seen the light about the missing merchants. They believe as we do, that Z'haas was behind that."

"I suspect it is working, Uridon," said Roquan. "I have heard word that the Emperor's attempt to secure a trade agreement with the Urisi has fallen through because of unreasonable demands on his part."

"Hah!" Uridon barked. "And I can guess what the Emperor asked the Urisi to do. He probably wanted their merchants to handle all trade. Not damn likely!"

Roquan clasped Uridon's shoulder again. "Your efforts have done much. You should be proud to be on the right side in this struggle."

Uridon took a deep drink of his brandy. His eyes were clouded with both sadness and the additional alcohol he had consumed before the Overlord's arrival. "Most of my reasons are personal, Roquan. There is little that is noble in that."

"I am still sorry for your loss, despite what he had tried to do."

Uridon waved a hand dismissively. "It is the past. There is no point in dwelling upon it," he said in a strained voice. He took a deep breath and let it go to steady himself. "Now, I have something for you." Uridon pulled out his closed fist from his pocket. "Hold out your hand if you would, Roquan."

Roquan warily extended his hand. Uridon slapped his fist into it and opened it. A blue pearl dropped into Roquan's hand.

By the time Uridon had pulled his hand away, Roquan had felt the tingling of the binding magic in the pearl. Roquan recognized it at once and looked up. "A Farviewing pearl?"

"Ordered by Overlord Doran D'jorus, now bound to you. So give that to him if you would, since I understand he is a guest at your Manor."

Roquan nodded and put the pearl into his pocket. "Thank you."

"One of the merchants has one from another Overlord, but one already bound. It is to replace one of yours."

"I do not recall having any trouble with my own pearls."

"The magic on them does fade even without use. It may be an old one you have not used for some time. Anyway, if you would let me know what supplies your Manor needs, we are fully stocked at the moment. We should have anything you require."

"Thank you, Uridon. And all my slaves are available for your pleasure this evening."

Uridon smiled. "Even Sirinna?"

Roquan returned it with a faint smile of his own. "Yes, even Sirinna. You and your clan have more than earned it."

Norlan considered his fortunes.

A Draughtless slave! It was an intriguing concept. And a scandalous one. In Urisi, all captives were supposed to have their equivalent of the Draught, and it was considered bad form to intentionally avoid it.

Despite this policy, however, Draughtless slaves were often sought by "serious" slaveowners, and they always fetched a very high price at auction. Indeed, the only reason more slavemasters did not skip the Draught in new captives was to keep the supply of this commodity artificially low and prices high.

Trade in Draughtless slaves was officially condemned but secretly encouraged. The former was well known outside of Urisi's borders. The latter was not. Yet this Overlord compounded his sin by using that same slave as a spy. That was far more damning given what he knew of Oceanus slave traditions.

He sensed Freya was more interested in what it could do for her rather than what it could do for him. It was unlikely she knew of the value of a Draughtless slave in Urisi. That made his act of using this information of utmost importance to her.

"This is all well and good, Overlord," said Norlan diplomatically. "But perhaps I am not as interested in using internal Overlord politics merely to obtain a better deal."

Freya smirked. "Come now, Ambassador. You cannot tell me that the Urisi are not looking for you to open this market any way you can. I am offering you something that will virtually guarantee you a way to close this deal on your terms."

"And what is to say that Roquan will not simply deny it all?"

"Oh, I am sure he will. But you can rest assured that it is the truth."

"So you say."

Freya's eyes flashed anger. "Fine. Then I suggest you see for yourself. Ask for Amanda and put her through her paces. It will be obvious to you that she is Draughtless."

"I will take this under advisement, Overlord. Now, if you will excuse me..."

He moved to end the Farview. "Ambassador! Wait one moment, please." Freya cried out.

Norlan drew back and smiled.

Freya gave him her own wry grin. "Oh, very good, Ambassador. All right. What do you want? Platinum? Slaves? Or... " She tilted her hips. "Sex?"

Norlan chuckled. "You would offer your body to me?"

"Do not laugh. Ambassador. There are many men that would take such a thing from me in a moment for some small favor or reward."

"Oh, I am sure there are, but to arrange such a thing would be inconvenient at best. And as for slaves, you have already stated you may have a lucrative offer to make later. No, I wish information from you."