Chapter 20

Councilor Tamer deBrisil walked slowly through the dim hallway towards the Putram's official audience chamber. He was troubled now as he often was lately. Their economy was in the doldrums, trade was almost nonexistent, war with the powerful Malshall was becoming more of a reality every day and their young Putram was becoming a problem. As First Councilor, he was the head of the Citizens Council as well as one of its most prominent members.

The Citizens Council was comprised of about one hundred and fifty of Jeevel's wealthiest citizens. All were free of course and most owned a substantial number of slaves. In fact, the council members owned more than ninety percent of all the slaves in Jeevel. Although nothing was established in either law or constitution, the Council picked the ruling Putram and could -- though it was a powere that had never been exercised -- remove him if needed. DeBrisil was beginning to believe the time to exercise that never-used power was at hand and it terrified him. The thought terrified him. First because it meant circumstances were quickly getting beyond their ability to control them and second, he wasn't sure they would be able to do it.

Pausing before the ornate doorway he nodded at the two guards flanking it on either side. Guild Warriors, a horribly expensive way to guard your door, he thought. It also highlighted the potential problem in removing the present Putram. Guild Warriors made up an unusually large percentage of Jeevel's army. Not only were they the best fighting force he had ever seen assembled but they were also loyal to only one person, their contract holder, who just happened to be the Putram of Jeevel. Nodding silently, one of the guards acknowledged him and opened the door allowing deBrisil to enter.

The young man sitting in the ornate chair was brooding again. His Excellency Westel deClover, the Putram of Jeevel, was in a foul mood and it permeated the audience chamber.

"Well Brisil, I'm here," he snapped. "What do you want? I'm a busy man you know and don't have time for this foolishness."

Tamer was proud of the way he could keep a placid smile on his face while his insides roiled and his hand practically shrieked to grab the insolent puppy by the throat. If much younger than his twenty-five seasons Tamer would have called deClover a spoiled brat at best and a crazed lunatic at worst. DeBrisil sighed to himself, unfortunately most of the fault for his present predicament fell squarely on his own shoulders and he knew it.

When the last Putram died three years earlier, the position should have gone to him. It would have except that he didn't want it. The governing was acceptable, the power a useful extension of what he already had as First Citizen; but the rest of the nonsense that went with the job was boring and tedious. In what he thought was a stroke of insight, he found himself a weak-willed puppet to handle the mundane ceremonial duties leaving the real governing to him and others more capable of doing so. He still thought it was a good idea; it just happened he found the wrong puppet this time.

Westel was young and from a minor House not normally involved with the politics of Jeevel, though they were well connected and had the support of many of the major Houses. Tamer's initial impression of the young man was that of a shallow, hedonistic and weak-willed wastrel, a nothing that could be made use of and wouldn't give them much trouble. He had been only partially correct. DeClover was shallow and very much hedonistic but he turned out to be more of a weasel than a wastrel. He was cruel to the point of sickness and had a cunning knack for solidifying his power that was only now starting to show itself. A case is point being the number of Guild Warriors he was bringing into his own personal service. Unfortunately, his cunning didn't seem to reach into the arena of governance where everything he touched seemed to turn to shit. His diplomacy was that of a bully and since Jeevel was by no means the largest nation in the area it was the bullying of the small against the very large. The results were predictable.

"Your Excellency," deBrisil began, "the Malshallian ambassador has been demanding an audience with you for days now. He is incensed over the taking of the Vengeance Mine and is demanding not only its return but that we turn over those responsible."

"So?" Westel threw a leg over the arm of his chair and examined his fingernails giving the appearance of abject boredom. "Tell him to go fuck himself. What do we care what he demands?"

"We care because he's threatening war over this," deBrisil gritted his teeth.

"Again, so? If he wants war then we give him war. It would be good to have this sorry business over and done with once and for all anyway."

"You don't actually think we could win a war with Malshall do you?" deBrisil said aghast. "Their navy is twice our size and their army; they must have three times our number under arms!"

"So, ours are better, aren't they?" the Putram frowned. You keep telling me we have no money for important things like my new summer palace because we spend so much on the military. It's about time they earned their keep."

"But that's insane!" the First Counsil blurted. "Even if we kept them at bay it would destroy us! As it is, we can't ship our goods and nobody will trade with us because we can't guarantee their safety in our waters! Without trade we are nothing! A war would destroy what little we now have!"

"Fine!" deClover said crossly. "So give them the damn ship and the fucking pirates. This is such a bore. Why can't they be reasonable like normal folk?"

"Need I remind your Excellency that it was your policy of sending the pirates after their ships that brought this on?"

"Well I had to," he whined. "They were lowering their taxes and port fees, taking away our rightful business. You said so yourself."

"Yes, but I said we needed to respond by lowering our own and competing with them, not trying to stop their ships!"

"Well this way was much cheaper. You yourself said we were low on funds. Do you know how much slaves cost nowadays? And that's just the plain ordinary ones; we're not even talking about something special"

"If you didn't use them up so quickly you wouldn't need so many," Tamer pointed out. As with most slave owners, he wasn't concerned with the pain the Putram inflected on his victims; but the sheer waste of resources he saw appalled him. He would have felt the same if it had been horses or dogs they were talking about.

"Besides we can't turn over the pirates to Malshall," he continued. "You know, or at least you should, that over half our 'navy' is made up of these privateers. If we gave up even one the rest would desert before the day was out."

"So what do you want me to do about it?" the Putram complained.

"At least talk to him. Offer him the ship, at least we have that. Tell him we will try to control the pirates. Rescind the order to attack their shipping. At the very least, for the god's sake, keep him talking. If we can keep them talking we may be able to work our way out of this!"

"Fine! You do it. Tell that bag of wind I'm indisposed or whatever else you want to. Just keep him away from me!"

"Of course, Your Excellency," deBrisil bowed his head. He had hoped for this. It would have been a disaster for the Malshallian ambassador to actually meet with the Putram. "I will take care of everything and have the decrees drawn up and brought over to you for your signature."

"Whatever," deClover waved him away. "Just leave me alone now."

Dent was sitting in the Cracked Cask' common room sipping on a tankard of blackberry juice when Vel and another person walked in. Nesho was sitting next to him thumbing through a stack of paper when she heard Dent grunt. Looking up she saw Vel and Don teNeigho standing just inside the doorway. She smiled and was about to get up and go get them when Dent waved and called out.

Vel grinned when he saw them and strode over with the elderly teNeigho in tow. Dent and Nesho stood as they approached and after grasping Vel's hand gestured for them to sit down.

"Oh I will in a bit," Vel said. "First I thought I might find Marie. I have something to ask her."

"I'll just bet you do you old fraud," Nesho said with a smirk. "I think I saw her around back a few minutes ago. We can catch one of the girls to bring her out if you like."

"No, don't bother. I'll see if I can find her myself." With that he walked towards the back bellowing her name.

"I can't tell if he's courting her or just chasing her for sport," Nesho mused.

"There's a difference?" Don asked with a twinkle in his eye.

"I think there is," she responded primly.

"Well then, I guess we will just have to see then, won't we?" he said still smiling. "Anyway Vel said you might have a few questions for me about your salidin. He also hinted there may be a meal in it for me?" his eyebrows lifted in question.

"Of course!" Dent laughed. "You are more than welcome to join us for mid-meal. I was waiting for Sosho to join us before starting. That's my youngest wif... ah, woman."

"Oh you can say wife to me, young fellow. Doesn't bother me one bit. I know here in Jeevel they don't allow marriage between Liege and serf but I for one think that's ridiculous, even a little grotesque."

"Thank you Reverend Father. I think of them as my wives," he looked over at Nesho fondly. "And I don't much care if they like it around here or not."

"Eh, Reverend Father?" teNeigho looked confused. "Now what's that all about?"

"Well, Captain Vel and that asshole on the ship the other day called you a priest. I just assumed..."

"Oh that," he waved his hand dismissively. "I'm no priest, young man, not even close. These superstitious barbarians don't know the difference between a Technician and a priest, and Vel, well I think he does it just because he knows it riles me!"

"Ah, well, I guess I don't know the difference either then," Dent admitted.

"But at least you're willing to learn, aren't you?" When Dent shrugged and nodded Don grunted and continued, "Technicians deal with technology, you know what that is, boy?"

"Machines and things like that?" Dent answered with a slight frown.

"Close enough," teNeigho grunted again. "In our case we deal with pre-Change technology."

"I didn't think there was any left," Dent said puzzled.

"Not much," he sighed, "not much at all, but there is still a bit around here and there. My order, if you want to call it that, is tasked with finding and bring back as much of it as we can. What do you know of the Change, boy?"

"What most do, I suppose," he said shrugging. "Many years ago something happened, something so catastrophic it almost destroyed civilization."

"Not almost, boy, did. Civilization was destroyed and we are the bumbling rag-tagged refuse of its destruction."

"Do you know what happened? No one seems to know."

"Pretty much, boy. We think the earth's magnetic field reversed."

"You mean the thing that points the compass north? That doesn't sound like it would be all that devastating."

"It probably wouldn't have been if not for two things," teNeigho held up two fingers. "One: this shift triggered massive changes in the earth's crust. Mountains rose while others fell; the seas rose, or at least the sea floor rose, and much of the dry land fell. Earthquakes and tsunamis covered what remained. The destruction was massive, catastrophic and almost instantaneous. Billions died as the earth's population was reduced by over ninety-nine percent. What little was left was scattered and didn't represent the intellectual cream of the ancients' society."

"Are you saying we're descendents of the stupid ones?"

"Not at all. What I mean is the intellectual and technological elite were concentrated in the large cities, none of which survived. It left a lot of people that didn't even know how to operate the machinery anymore, let alone build it. But that is neither here nor there since it was a moot point anyway."

"Why?"

"By the time of the Change, the power source for nearly everything they had came from cells that use the spinning of the earth and its magnetic field. When the fields reversed nothing worked. We still have quite a bit of their old knowledge, whatever was in printed form anyway, which was a considerable amount, let me tell you. But the most advanced was lost, possibly forever."

"You said nearly everything was powered by these magic cells Don," Nesho interrupted. "That means there was still something left."

"Oh course, my dear. After all, that is my job, to find and use as much of the old technology as possible."

"Do you have an example of something from the old times?"

"Certainly, you happen to be wearing just one such example." Nesho's hand went up to touch her salidin. "The salidin are one of if not the most common artifacts from the ancients. Hundreds of thousands are in use every day in the south."

"They made so many of them? I had never heard the ancients had slavery to that extent," Dent said aloud.

"I don't know if they did or not," Don shrugged. "And they didn't leave that many; we have learned how to make more. Before you ask, no I don't know how. Nobody who knows the process is allowed out of the O'Tech compounds."

"Just what are you doing here in the north if I may ask?"

"You just did, so I guess you can. Primarily I was sent here to look for technology that we may have missed and secondly to help spread salidin and their benefits."

"Benefits? What benefit could there be to being a slave?" Dent snorted.

"Hmm, do you feel like a slave dear?" Don asked looking over at Nesho.

"No, but then I never knew what a slave felt like. I suppose it could be like this," she answered thoughtfully.

"It's not the salidin that makes a person a slave, no more than a tattoo does. It's the slave masters that make the slave. Oh, some say it's the slave that makes the slave. That one truly isn't a slave until one gives in and becomes a slave, but I think that's ridiculous. When you're in chains and the punishment for resistance is death, what can you do?

"In the south we don't have slaves; we have Liege Lords and serfs. Oh, Vel told you about this already? Good, that will make this quicker. Where was I, oh yes, anyway almost everyone has them and it makes for a very pleasant and orderly society. No Utopia mind you, but much nicer than up here."

"So you really believe it would be better if everybody wore those things?" Dent asked.

"Oh yes," Don nodded emphatically. "Now I know not everyone agrees, but have you asked your own lovely lady here how she feels about it?"

"Ah, no," Dent mumbled embarrassed. "I've kind of avoided the issue, if truth be known."

"Well why don't we ask her?" Both of them turned to Nesho expectantly.

"I don't know what to say," Nesho said slowly. "You would think, no, I would think I should say no, never, it would be outrageous, but now I'm not so sure. I know why you call this being bound to another. You were right, I don't feel like a slave, I feel like I belong to Dent, or maybe just belong with him. Oh this is just so difficult to try to explain but it feels so right!"

"Don't worry about it, little lady," Don said patting her hand. "It's very difficult for someone who doesn't have one to understand what you are feeling." Reaching up he pulled the neck of his robe down exposing his neck. There in its golden glory was a salidin identical in every way to the one around Nesho's neck. "As you can see I understand very well. Don't look so startled. I told you almost everyone has one where I'm from. Did you think I was a noble of some kind?"

"So you're not here to proselytize a religion, you're here to propagate a way of life."

"Not a bad of putting it, Warrior. That is what I hope to do. I want to expand the use of salidin. The system they have here is an abomination! You must admit any change would be for the better."

"Well I'm not sure what you propose would be any better; it just seems wrong to me for some reason. But at least you're honest about what you want to do. Of course having another outlet for your trade goods, in this case salidin, wouldn't hurt either, would it?"

"Maybe not," he grinned, "but that's not my primary mission. Nor is trying to convert you to my thinking, I'll leave that to your lovely ladies. Vel told me you had some questions about the salidin that I could possibly answer."

"Yes," said Nesho. She looked over at Dent and he nodded for her to continue. "My daughter and I have been having some strange feelings since we put it on and were wondering if they were normal."

"Well that depends on the feeling," Don answered placidly. "What were they? Can you describe them to me?"

"I think so. First off, it seems I know exactly where Dent is all the time. I mean not exactly where, but I could point to him wherever he is."

Don nodded his head, "It's part of the bonding, we can all point to our Liege Lords. I can even though she's thousands of miles away. That's normal. What else?"

"Well, we, ah, seem to be able to feel what Dent is feeling, especially, ah..." She looked flustered and turned a pretty shade of dark red.

"During sex you mean?" Don chuckled at her discomfort. "I'm sorry to laugh; I shouldn't since it embarrasses you but it's the most unmentioned benefit of having the salidin. It only happens between the bound and their Liege but I understand it is quite spectacular. I've never experienced it myself even though my Liege is a woman. She is quite happily married and not to me. In fact it happens fairly infrequently. The incidence of a bound and a Liege actually going to bed together is rather small, not so much here in the north but certainly in the south, but it takes more than just sex to cause the response."

"More than just sex?" Nesho was interested now and even the talk of sex didn't dissuade her from asking questions.

"Absolutely! Now I won't say there aren't some rather unscrupulous Lieges in the south and maybe one or two of them have worked their way through a bevy of beautiful bound wenches, but if they do, it's just sex. True, they can't refuse him but without an emotional attachment they don't get that flare. It's too bad; I understand it quite special."

"Indeed it is," Nesho mused. "But you said they can't refuse their Liege. You sounded like you meant that literally, like they actually couldn't refuse. Did you mean that?"

"Of course I meant that. You mean you don't know yet. Bless me! I don't believe it! How long have you had the collar? Two weeks?" Don looked over at Dent in amazement. "Good sir, don't you order your women around at all?"

"Not much, I suppose," Dent said with a frown. "I usually just ask and they do it."

"Two weeks? Two women?" teNeigho just shook his head. "You, young man, aren't married, you are in heaven."

"What do you mean?" Dent and Nesho said simultaneously.

"Here let me show you," with that he pushed a fork off the table.

"You," he said pointing to Dent. "Tell her to pick it up. And you," now pointing to Nesho, "don't do it."

Dent shrugged and turned to Nesho, "Nesho please pick up the fork."

Nesho flinched and moved to do it, then she stopped and tried to straighten back up. A look or bewilderment and concern crossed her face as she began trembling and again bent toward the fork.

"Nesho, what's wrong? Maybe you shouldn't..." but before he could finish she held up her hand indicating he should be quiet. Half way down to the floor she gave a loud snort and quickly bent down, picked up the fork and slammed it on the table.

"I see what you mean," she said dryly.

"What?" asked a confused Dent.

"I had to do it; I had no choice. It was like my body was moving without my being able to stop it." Nesho pursed her lips and then sighed. "So this is what a slave really feels like."

"I don't know about that but it's how the bound feel," teNeigho said with a kindly smile. "And is it really that different from the way you were two weeks ago?"

"Well two weeks ago I at least had the choice." Then she sighed, "But no, it's not much different. It's not like I would have refused him anything anyway."