Chapter 7

Ria floated in front of Kashka’s face in the tent’s main room.

“What. The. Hell,” the little sprite seethed. She was so furious parts of her body faded in and out. “I listened to you whine about ‘from slavery into slavery,’ yet when Kal releases you, you throw yourself back into it!”

Kashka lifted her chin and pursed her lips before answering, “I was not taken as a child and forced into this. Serving Kal is my choice and ends when I have repaid my debt to him. It’s the honorable thing to do.”

“You were an assassin up until two days ago. Where was your honor when slaughtering your targets?”

Kashka winced at the avatar’s harsh words.

“Peace, Ria,” said Kal from where he sat on the floor with his morning meal. “I’m sure she—”

“No, Master. Thank you, but I think she deserves an answer,” said the cat-girl. She walked into her room for a moment and returned holding her belt. Pulling the dagger from its sheath, she held it up in front of the avatar. “How much honor does this have?”

“The dagger? It can’t think. It doesn’t have any,” Ria replied.

“Exactly, and until two days ago, this was me. I had to be a weapon, without honor, soul, or remorse. I didn’t think, I acted, much like this dagger in my hand. I did what I needed to survive. Too much thinking was ... bad for me.”

“From now on, you refer to me by my name, not ‘Master,’” said Kal as he stood up. “How could too much thinking be bad for you?”

“When Bozun took the job to kill you, I got excited. I actually looked forward to a challenge since most of my assignments were easy.” Kashka looked away, “I saw that my thoughts were turning dark that night and tried to just ... stop thinking about anything.”

“Your assignments were easy?” asked Ria.

“I don’t miss,” said the cat-girl. “It’s easy to kill someone when you can throw a poisoned dart from two buildings over and be out of sight before it strikes the target. The thought of going against a mage with spells and protections was an interesting challenge, one I was looking forward to.” She blushed slightly, “Things didn’t turn out as I expected, but I can’t say I’m complaining.” The slight smile creeping onto Kashka’s face vanished when she glanced over at Kal. His expression was cold as steel.

“Who hired you to kill me?” he asked. The question had been eating at the mage since yesterday.

“A—A Knight of the Lion,” the cat-girl stammered under the intensity of Kal’s stare, “young, maybe a few years older than you. I can’t remember his name, but he said he fought you.”

The mage cursed under his breath.

“The only knight you’ve fought is Galen,” said Ria.

“I didn’t think his hatred of me went this far,” Kal replied.

Kashka shook her head, “It wasn’t you but one of your lovers he really hated. Galen made it sound like she passed away.”

“She did ... kind of. I’ll explain once we are traveling again,” said the mage upon seeing Kashka’s confused expression. “I want to check on Shakri and her family before we leave.” He looked at the belt in the cat-girl’s hand. “Ria, Kashka is now one of my party. Kashka, ask Ria to store your belt.”

“Put it on first,” the sprite told her. “If you hold very still, I can put it on you when you ask for it back.”

Nodding, the cat donned the belt and was buckling it as a sharp pain ran through her. She fumbled with the buckle in her haste. Once it was secured, she looked wide-eyed at the avatar and said, “Riastoremybelt,” the words spewing out in her rush to follow Kal’s command.

After watching the brief scene, Kal stormed over to his room’s door and summoned his cloak to his hand. Throwing it over his shoulders, he stomped toward the door while grumbling in frustration over the collar punishing Kashka. “It’s time to go,” he barked at the women. Kashka darted into her room, running back out a moment later affixing the clasp of her tan cloak.

Outside the tent, the cat-girl spent the next minute watching in wonder as the canvas shelter collapsed and folded up into a hand-sized square that Kal rolled up and dropped into Ria’s bag. The sprite disappeared afterward, but not before informing Kal that he could kindly go fuck himself until he got Bozun’s dead body out of her.

A few rooms down from the mage’s, they stopped to bid Shakri farewell. The waitress was extremely disappointed to see Kal leaving and wished he could stay longer. She wanted to show her full appreciation for saving her son and sister. Understandably, that wasn’t an option last night as her family needed her more. The mage did promise to visit the next time he came through the city on his travels. He didn’t have the heart to tell her he hoped never to set foot in Fazal again.

As soon as the thought crossed his mind, he took a moment to imagine Ikuno’s reaction upon learning of his fling with the woman. He stifled a groan, knowing the oni would want to see his cock sliding in and out of the dark-skinned server firsthand. Though denied another night of passion with the mage, Shakri did get in a very heated kiss that earned the pair some hoots and catcalls from her recovering sister.

Out on the street, Kal flagged down a cow-girl pulling a two-person rickshaw. Scooting over to make room For Kashka, he looked back to find her shaking her head at him.

“I’ll run behind,” she said quietly. “Only human slaves are allowed to ride with their masters.”

“Then it’s a good thing you are a servant and not a slave. Get in,” he ordered. Looking up, he smiled at the cow-girl who was watching and listening to the exchange with interest.

It occurred to him that if he ever needed eyes and ears in Fazal, the cow-girls would be a fantastic place to start. If he upgraded the stables to make them more comfortable and tried to get more palatable men to take care of their physical needs, it might work. Of course, that meant he would need to purchase the women first. Kal shook his head, chasing away the thought. Why would he need a spy network in Fazal?

“Do you want me to get in or not?” asked Kashka, freezing in place a moment before sitting down while wondering why he was shaking his head at her.

“Random thought. Yes, get in.”

Once the cat-girl was seated, the rickshaw driver leaned into her harness to get them going.

The trip was blissfully short compared to Kal’s walk to the inn on his first day in Fazal. He had the cow-girl pull into a secluded spot just before the large open area in front of the eastern gate. News of his antics must have gotten around as there was no hesitation and excitement in her eyes when he asked her to open her mouth. Ria gave her one of Ikuno’s “treats” as thanks before making their way to Toba’s stall. After her passengers left, the bovine woman stood there savoring the flavor until jolted by her collar. Keeping her mouth tightly closed, she moved out onto the main road in search of another fare. Even then, the look on her face was euphoric.

The market by the eastern gate was nearly the size of the grand bazaar. Unlike the vast trading center in the middle of the city, the merchants here kept to the perimeter. The central area remained clear for staging the large caravans crossing the desert. Even now, palace officials were checking the camel trains. Some used magic, while others performed a physical inspection. Once everything was to the officials’ liking and any tariffs paid, they were sent out the gate.

The constant movement of animals kicked up a horrendous amount of dust. Kal could feel some of the grit getting past the magic of his topaz brooch and into his mouth. He risked pushing a tiny amount of magic into the bauble and the dust clinging to him dropped to the ground.

A small herd of camels stood off to one side, their handlers going animal by animal and making sure each was healthy enough for the coming journey. Kal resisted his curiosity to strike up a conversation and discover how the hump-backed animals differed from horses. That was probably information he could learn while crossing the desert and he had more pressing concerns at the moment.

A group of destitute and downtrodden Fazalans shuffled around near the camels. The air of depression surrounding them prevented others from approaching, and the people shopping in the surrounding market ignored their existence. Considering the constant noise and bright colors all around, the group seemed woefully out of place with their ratty clothing and sad faces.

As Kal and Kashka approached the rotund and garishly clothed Toba, Kashka tugged on his arm. “Kal, that was the man who reported you to Bozun.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I delivered his finder’s fee.”

Kal felt his anger rising but quickly pushed it back down. “I’ve already paid the man, and I doubt he’s the type for giving refunds. I may discuss his actions with him when I come back this way, but I have nothing to gain by it now. Thank you for telling me.”

If the Caravan Master was surprised to see Kal, it didn’t show in his face as the mage stepped under the sizeable yellow tent’s awning where Toba conducted business. During their brief conversation, the Caravan Master informed them the returning caravan had not arrived yet, and he would need to come back after midday. The mage already didn’t like the man, and after Kashka’s revelation, Toba’s voice grated on his nerves. Kal did his best not to stomp away.

The cat-girl followed close behind as the mage made his way to one of the jewelry shops in the ring of stalls surrounding them. Picking out a golden necklace, he held it up in front of Kashka’s neck.

“What are you doing?” she asked Kal, startling the shopkeeper as she noticed the cat-girl for the first time.

“Finding a replacement collar for once we get out of the city. I wouldn’t bother, but you appear to have some need to show your servitude.”

Kashka gripped her leather collar as if hiding it from him. “No, it should be a proper collar. How will I know if I am doing what you want? There needs to be some form of punishment so that I can serve you properly.”

“If you require punishment, my hand across your bottom will do,” Kal snapped with a little more heat than intended. The cat-girl’s tiny gasp as her face went red was not the reaction he expected.

“You’ve got a good one there, sir,” said the shopkeeper with a meaningful glance at Kashka and his crotch before smirking at him. She pulled a wide-banded choker that looked like woven strands of gold from one of her displays. “There is an artificer next to the slave market who deals exclusively with custom collars,” she held up the choker’s latching mechanism, two wide bars that hooked together like the hinge on a gate with a pin securing them. “These have enough space on the latch he should be able to turn it into a proper collar for your kitten.”

Kal only half-listened to the woman’s sales pitch and stared at Kashka instead. “What is your hang-up with these collars? I told you I don’t want a slave and that I would rather set you free once we are out of Fazal and it’s safe. I appreciate your loyalty, but why are you insisting on wearing a slave collar to do it?” He took the gold choker from the shopkeeper and held it up. “Why can’t it just be a symbol? Why is this not good enough?”

Staring at the collar, Kashka stepped back as though it could bite her. Her mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out. Try as she might, she couldn’t come up with a proper answer for him.

Kal felt a hand on his and looked down. The shopkeeper was gently removing the choker from his grip. “Young man,” said the woman, “While your ideas are noble, there are some things you need to understand. Many slaves are taken as children. They are easier to train and less likely to rebel as adults. These slaves know no other way to live. Because of that, their collars give them a set of clearly defined rules to live by and become a symbol of safety, comfort, and knowledge that they will have something to eat at the end of the day. A belly filled with unpleasant food is still a full belly. You are trying to take all of that away from her at once.” She held the choker up, “Right now, she still needs this.”

“You seem to know a lot about how slaves think,” said the mage.

The woman lifted her head and pointed to two lines running across her throat, the marks of many years wearing a collar similar to Kashka’s. “Not all slaves stay slaves.”

Glancing at Kashka, Kal could see how the woman’s words resonated with the cat-girl. After glaring at the shopkeeper for a long moment, he growled, “Ria, I need some money.”

For the sake of simplicity and speed, Kal hired another of the rickshaws to take them back to the Grand Bazaar.

“I’m sorry,” said Kashka from the seat next to him, talking over the cow-girl’s heavy footfalls and the din of the street around them.

“What for now?” snapped Kal, his irritation with the situation creeping into his tone. He hoped to be away from this damnable city by now, and here he was heading back into the heart of it. Even worse, they were going to the one place he had staunchly avoided on his other visits to the bazaar.

“Because she’s right. There are many tales of slaves being freed once they have outlived their usefulness. Every story ends with the slave becoming a beggar until found dead in an alley or leaving the city where they don’t have the skills necessary to live in the wild and are killed by some animal. That shopkeeper is the first I’ve heard of a freed slave becoming a success.”

“It sounds like a means of control,” said the mage after a moment’s thought. “If someone found a dead body out in the desert, how much effort would it take to identify the person then track down their previous owner only to inform them a slave they no longer own is dead. And the beggars in this city are nearly invisible, which is why they make such good spies. Unless the former owner had close ties to the beggar’s guild or those who remove the bodies of the dead, the first scenario seems just as unlikely.” Kal glanced over at her, “Does that make you want to give up this ‘servant’ nonsense and follow Bozun’s other girls? I’m sure you would have no trouble surviving, especially if you made it to the other side of the mountains.”

She shook her head, “No, I still have a debt to pay. My point is there is a deep fear rooted within slaves. When you first took the collar off, I was so happy I wanted to cry, but as I waited for you to return to the inn, I started thinking about what came next, and that scared me.”

Kal’s eyes narrowed, “Are you doing this out of a sense of duty? Or because you fear the uncertainty that comes with freedom? If it’s the second, then I will stop the cart so you can get out right now. Under orders or not, you tried to kill me, and I feel no obligation to indulge your fear of the unknown.” Kal’s frown deepened when he realized giving in to her desire for a slave collar was precisely that.

“No, I want to live the rest of my life honorably, like the men in the minstrel’s tales. But I think it explains why this is so important to me,” she said, touching the collar. “It can also let me know how to serve you best. I’ve never been a servant or a pleasure slave, and a collar will let me know when I’m doing something wrong.”

“That won’t change my mind from thinking this whole collar business is asinine,” said Kal as the cow-girl slowed to a stop. They had reached the intersection of the road into the bazaar. Rickshaws were not allowed any closer, and only royalty was allowed slave-carried litters within the large market.

Kal didn’t feel comfortable giving the bovine woman one of his usual after-ride treats out on the street. With a few words of thanks to the cow-girl, Kal and Kashka made their way down the noisy and brightly decorated road to the Grand Bazaar.

Their destination lay right next to the slave auction. When they finally entered the collar maker’s tent, Kal took a moment to work the tightness out of his jaw from clenching his teeth as they approached.

Two large guards like those at the jewel merchant’s stood beside a young shopkeeper’s desk. Along both canvas walls were display racks sporting various slave collars intended to show off the owner’s wealth and maker’s skill. The back of the tent attached to a building, and Kal made out the faint glow of a small forge beyond the doorway. Next to the forge, a short figure hunched over a workbench, carving runes into a band that went around a person’s upper arm. The mage was surprised to realize it was a dwarf. This was the first one he had seen since coming to Fazal.

Kal set the golden choker onto the desk and explained to the shopkeeper what he wanted. Looking confused, the man turned to look into the building. “Master Olduf, I think you need to speak to this person,” he called out.

For a few long seconds Kal thought the dwarf ignored them as he switched between the various stamps and tapped the design into the golden band. Eventually, Olduf looked up. His eyes appeared enormous from behind his magnifying goggles as he frowned at Kal and the shopkeeper.

“Not much use in havin’ ya watch the shop if yer botherin’ me every time a customer comes in,” the dwarf grumbled as he stood and walked out into the tent area. “Never shoulda wasted my gold buyin’ yer arse.”

“Um, sir?” the young man asked.

It took a moment for Kal to realize the dwarf had spoken in his native tongue while the boy only knew Fazalan. Once again, he silently thanked Ikuno for his translation spell.

“I was sayin’ I’m gonna trade ya in fer a cute thing I can bounce on me cock at night if’n ya can’t help the customers without botherin’ me,” the dwarf snapped, pushing his goggles up onto his forehead.

“Sorry, sir,” said the young man as he stepped to the side.

“Bah, just pay attention,” said Olduf. Stepping up to the desk, he looked up at Kal, “What can I do ya fer?”

Kal held up the choker, “I need this turned into a slave collar, but I have some special instructions, and I need to be back at the eastern gate this afternoon.”

“Yer askin’ a lot. I can get it done, but it’ll cost ya fer the rush job.” The dwarf picked up the choker, “Decent craftsmanship here, but the alloy is shite. I use silver and mithril fer strength and magic flow in my pieces. This is made with nickel. Good fer wearin’, but not fer magic. If’n ye want me to use it, I’ll need some diamond dust to go in the runes, or I can sell ya one like it and make it outa that.”

Kal groaned then glared at Kashka, “Your infatuation with having a collar is getting expensive.”

The cat-girl looked down, “I’m sorry.”

Out the corner of his eye, he saw the dwarf and shopkeeper both jump as they noticed she was there. More worrisome was the large man behind her reaching for his sword. At the same time, Kashka’s eyes flicked over his head and her hands dropped down to where her daggers would be had she been wearing her belt. The mage was beginning to think her cloak was quite a bit more powerful than she first let on.

Ignoring the momentary commotion, Kal turned back to the dwarf, but not before glancing at the other guard to be sure he wasn’t about to get run through. Thankfully, he also had only grabbed the hilt of his sword but never drew it. “If you have one in that style, I’ll take it instead.”

The promise of a sale pushed the sudden appearance of the cat-girl from the dwarf’s mind, “Good choice, now what’s these special things ya need it to do?”

“No exploding –”

“I don’t make collars fer the slavers out roundin’ em up from the countryside. Mine ain’t fer murder or suicide.”

Kal raised an eyebrow, “Glad you draw a line somewhere.” Seeing Olduf was getting angry, the mage hurried on, “No punishment for getting too far from me. She can speak and touch herself any time she wants. She only gets punished when willfully disobeying an order—”

“But I need to know when I’m disobeying by accident, too,” said Kashka.

Kal rolled his eyes, “That as well then—”

“And I can’t attack my master.”

The mage glared at Kashka for a moment before saying, “No punishment for removing the collar.”

The cat-girl shook her head, “You should be the only one able to remove it.”

“Absolutely not, Kashka. I won’t have you dropping to your knees in pain in the middle of a fight because you disobeyed me. It almost happened once already. I won’t let it happen again.”

Remembering the jolts of pain during the fight with Bozun, the cat-girl backed down.

“Ye got a loyal one there. I’ve not heard o’ many slaves beggin’ fer tighter restrictions,” said the dwarf.

“She’s a servant, not a slave, and this is her idea, not mine.”

“I’ll put on there that she can remove it if it’s a life-or-death situation. That way, ye’ll both be happy.”

Kal looked over at the cat-girl to see her nodding in agreement. “Fine,” he sighed.

They spent the next few minutes haggling over price and then a few more as Kal helped the dwarf design the runes for his special requests. The mage was surprised how the knowledge he gleaned from the collars removed from Dax’s pack proved useful. Olduf knocked a few gold pieces off the price for his help and told them to come back in a few hours.

As they left the collar maker’s tent, a commotion next door drew his attention. He immediately regretted looking.

A young girl of only about twelve summers stood on the stage in a stained gray dress as tears ran down her face. The auctioneer walked around the child, posing her in ways meant to make potential buyers think more about years from now when the young girl came of age. Bidding ramped up quickly, but Kal could only think about if it was Adalena or one of his other daughters standing there. Anger welled up inside him, but the royal guards on either side of the stage forced the mage to calm himself. He wasn’t here to change the city.

Kal was about to storm away when Kashka gasped and the crowd went silent. The auctioneer called for any more bids, but no one made a sound. Curious, he looked back to see a woman gracefully walking toward the stage. From her back sprouted black, bat-like wings as two thin, similarly colored horns extended from behind her ears and came forward like an infernal tiara. The horns’ tips turned upward in front of her forehead and held a small red gem between them, completing the look. His anger rose again as he realized the succubus had bought the girl. Only one place in Fazal could a person find succubi, and that was no place for a young girl.

He glanced over at Kashka to see if she was equally angry. Instead, relief filled her expression.

“What am I missing here?” Kal snapped. “Why do you look happy that girl is going to work in a brothel?”

“To a female slave, getting purchased by the succubi is like winning the lottery. She will work in the kitchen or as a housemaid until she comes of age. Once old enough, she will take care of any clients the succubi cannot get to for a few years until they have worked off their purchase price. If the palace does not pick them to become a concubine, which happens quite often, they are set free with a stipend to live off and a reasonable dowry if they decide to marry, supplied by the succubi. Getting purchased by them is almost a guarantee of an easy life. Though I imagine they probably see some things young girls shouldn’t while working at a brothel.”

The cat-girl’s explanation helped alleviate his feelings of guilt for not stepping up and purchasing the young woman. He almost wasn’t stomping as they walked away from the slave market.

Closer to the center of the Grand Bazaar, Kal stopped at one of the clothing shops. Curious, Kashka watched for a moment as he searched through the displays of women’s clothing.

“What are you looking for?” she finally asked.

The mage turned and held a strip of fabric up in front of her breasts, “Not all of the places I’m going are accepting of casual nudity,” he replied. “Once we leave the city, I expect you to be dressed when out in public unless local laws say otherwise.”

“And what about when we aren’t in public?”

“Do as you will. I have many monster girl lovers. Only one of them wears clothing with any consistency.”

The shopkeeper ripped the fabric out of Kal’s hand, “I don’t sell to animal-fuckers,” he sneered, his eyes flicking between Kashka and the mage. “Take your coin elsewhere.”

Another clothing merchant a few stalls down didn’t have the same issue selling clothing for a monster girl and was happy to take his money. When finished, Kashka had a few outfits consisting of a wrap for her breasts and the billowy pants worn by dancers along the road to the bazaar. After learning they were crossing the desert, the merchant also convinced Kal to get a slightly heavier outfit for when the desert winds were harsh. Kashka quickly rejected any kind of shoes stating the pads on her paws would suffice.

Uncomfortable with the idea of her walking barefoot out on the desert’s burning sands, they made a quick stop at the stall where he picked up the sand-walker boots to see if he had anything similar she could use. The merchant pulled a locked box from beneath his counter and produced a golden anklet. The jewelry would need to be recharged every three days but would protect the wearer’s feet from the blistering heat and help walk on sand much like the boots he already purchased.

Inspecting the small plate with the enchantment runes, Kal was sure he could extract the mediocre mana crystal in the piece and replace it with a flawless one. He didn’t think it would remove the necessity for recharging but could push it out to a week, or maybe two.

With the jewelry secured around the cat-girl’s ankle, it was time to go back for the collar. Kal took the long way around as the most direct route had them passing right in front of the slave market again. He wasn’t going to try his luck that the next slave he saw on the auction block would end up with the same fairy-tale ending as the girl from earlier. It was sad that he considered years of slavery and later prostitution to be a ‘good’ ending for the child. However, he had to admit it was better than some of her alternatives, considering the leering looks from a few of the men bidding.

As they approached the collar maker, Kal fought the nagging feeling Kashka made up the story merely to appease him. Other than deflecting his anger, she had no real reason to lie to him, and the happiness on her face when explaining the girl’s eventual fate seemed genuine.

Olduf was just finishing up the choker as they arrived. After a quick inspection of the runes, Kal removed Kashka’s leather collar and fastened the new one around her neck as she grinned with a happiness the mage couldn’t wrap his head around.

“It’s a rare case to see that much pride on a slave’s face over a new collar,” said the dwarf.

“It’s because I am proud,” said the cat-girl, stiffly. “This man saved my life and freed me from slavery. I chose to become his servant until I have repaid that debt, and I am choosing to wear this collar.”

“Best not be spreading that around until ya get out o’ the city. If’n the authorities find out ya aren’t a slave, then ye’ll be caught up and back on the auction block fast as ye can blink.”

Kashka’s eyes widened, “Oh.”

Kal paid the dwarf and quickly left the tent as the auctioneer next door began introducing the next slave up for bid. Those few words stoked Kal’s anger again. He resisted the urge to shove people out of his path as they made their way back to the north road.

He managed to calm down some during the silent ride back to the eastern gate. The look of happiness as the cow-girl driving their cart enjoyed her treat before returning to work also improved the mage’s mood.

The scene greeting them as they entered the caravan staging area confused the mage. Camels arranged into rows stood hitched to what appeared to be small, dark blue tents. However, these weren’t carts with the blue tents on them. They rested on the ground behind the animals as though dragged there. Lavishly dressed men and women stood beside many of the little shelters, waiting with varying degrees of patience until a scantily dressed man or woman came along and began showing them around.

The sound of a woman wailing drew his attention to the group of destitute-looking folk from earlier. The cluster of poor Fazalans was half its previous size. Those remaining looked very uncomfortable as they distanced themselves from the kneeling, grief-stricken woman. Kal was having difficulty imagining what within the bag she clutched fiercely to her chest might cause such distress.

Toba was speaking to a tall man in black leather armor as they approached. The armor seemed foolishly out of place in the sweltering heat around them, but Kal caught a flicker of magic when he and Kashka got closer. That likely explained why the man wasn’t even sweating.

Dismay was written across Toba’s face when he turned and saw Kal coming toward him. The Caravan Master’s expression quickly turned to fear when he caught sight of Kashka as well.

The mage’s mouth twisted in a snarl despite his efforts to remain calm. The magic in Kashka’s tan cloak should have hidden her until she drew attention to herself, unless Toba was specifically looking for her. If he was looking for the cat-girl, then the rotund man probably had some inkling of Bozun’s fate.