Chapter 18

The day was to be robbed of its sunset. Just as the sun began to drop towards the ocean, a line of long, low clouds drifted in from the horizon, growing steadily thicker as they encroached towards the shore. Faint shafts of showery rain appeared under them as they slid over the waters.

As the failing afternoon light darkened her bedchamber, Yanna was forced to reach over and flick on the lamp in order to complete her little experiment. The light illuminated the pouch of sleeping powder sitting open on the bed next to her, its contents about half full. She placed some of the fine powder on her outstretched palm, until she had a small mound that was several times more than a normal dose. It took but a single pinch to make the smoke that, once inhaled, put the victim into a deep sleep.

The more powder, the deeper the sleep. But if inhaled directly, without first being burned, it was doubly-potent, and potentially deadly.

Yanna held her palm before her face and gave it a quick puff of her breath. A small cloud of particles swirled in the air before her, drifting away, driven partially by the breeze that blew into her room through the window behind her, the shutters having be opened fully.

She gave it another, stronger blow. A much larger cloud formed, and she had to wave at it with her other hand to dissipate it before she felt it safe to breathe again. Yes, that should work, but she needed to test it first. Yanna slowly smiled as she realized she had two test subjects likely on their way right at that moment.

She quickly dusted off her hands and put the pouch back into the night stand's little cabinet.

If there was one modern convenience that Amanda missed from her own world about then, it was a clock.

Normally with the sun out, she could tell about what time of day it was by looking out her window. Everything in the Manor seemed to happen by the position of the sun, yet with the clouds obscuring it, she had no idea how late it was getting. She lay on her bed, anxious, alternately looking from the window to the doorway. Sometimes she would stand when she became too restless and pace the room.

When she finally heard the outside door open, she rushed out into Sirinna's bedchamber.

"Hello, love," Sirinna said as she carried a tray of food to her bed. "I brought us some dinner."

"Dinner! I can't even think about food."

"You hardly had anything at lunch," Sirinna admonished softly. She placed the tray in the center of the bed and sat cross-legged before it. "Come, eat."

Amanda sighed, flouncing onto the bed, forcing Sirinna to grab the platter so it would not bounce food out over the furs.

"Is something the matter, Amanda?"

Amanda gaped at her. "How can you ask that?"

Sirinna looked nonplussed.

"Once it's twilight, we're going to be walking right into a dangerous situation!"

"Oh, Amanda, I really think you worry too much," Sirinna popped one of those fish-filled pastries into her mouth. "She won't be the first disobedient slave I've dealt with. Hiatha herself gave me a great deal of trouble when I was training her."

Amanda felt this went well beyond just a mere case of disobedience, but she knew it would be impossible to convince Sirinna of this.

"If it makes you feel better, love, you can reach under the bed for me and fetch the spare collar and chain I have."

"How will that help?" Amanda asked as she slid off the bed.

"If she's uncollared, I can re-collar her, and bring her to Roquan. I imagine he'll be most unhappy with her."

"To say the least!" Amanda groped under the bed until her hand touched something cool and metallic. She pulled it out, and stood, the open collar dangling from one end. She paused a moment, a shudder going through her as she remembered her dream, and Roquan from the night before when he threatened to collar her.

"Really, all we need to do is confront her. Even if she does not come willingly, I need only inform Master Roquan of her disobedience. He will believe me when I tell him this."

Amanda was still staring at the thing she held in her hands, having pulled it into her hands, examining it in greater detail. It looked much like a dog's collar, only wider, and there was a second set of holes near one edge. The lock dangled from one of these holes. Curious, she threaded the end of the strap through the buckle, closing the loop. Just past the buckle, the overlapping holes lined up.

Sirinna noticed Amanda's interest. "The lock threads through the holes," she explained. "And prevents the slave from undoing the buckle."

"Oh," Amanda said softly, quickly tossing the collar and chain onto the bed.

"When a Captive is made a Trainee," Sirinna continued as Amanda climbed back onto the bed. "Either the Trainer or the Overlord places the collar around the new slave's neck, and then gives the chain a flick..." she moved her hand in the air as if holding a chain, "... which is the traditional signal of the slave's new life."

Amanda just nodded absently, eyes darting from the collar to the platter.

"Then the Trainer tells the Trainee what the basic rules are and such. Not a really complicated ceremony."

Amanda tentatively reached for some of the food. "And the collar never comes off?"

"Not until the Trainee graduates. Though it's removed occasionally for bathing purposes, of course."

"How long does it take to train someone?"

Sirinna smiled. "Depends on the Trainee, love. Usually about a year. Hiatha was a handful. She took nearly two."

"According to Roquan, I'd probably take a lifetime," Amanda said with a humorless smirk.

As Yanna had hoped, Hiatha first brought Garas back to allow him to clean up before dinner. She released him from his cuffs and secured his chain in his bedchamber, which would allow him enough movement to use the sanitary. She then came to check on Yanna.

"So did you manage to sleep some this afternoon?" Hiatha asked, folding her arms under her breasts.

"Yes, mistress," Yanna said, sounding brighter than she had to Hiatha before. "Thank you for allowing me to rest."

Hiatha nodded slowly. "Perhaps after dinner we'll see if you can do a little better with the weights before retiring for the evening. If you do well enough, perhaps I may let you sleep in a little tomorrow morning."

"Yes, mistress."

Hiatha nodded again, a slow smile coming to her lips. "You're even a little more respectful now. Very good. Perhaps this will be a remedial training only and not a full re-training. It would be a refreshing change."

"Of course, mistress," Yanna said, bowing her head deferentially.

"I'll be back shortly with dinner. I'll save you a little extra since you did not have lunch. Practice some of your muscle control exercises while I am gone."

"Yes, mistress," Yanna said, her voice unfailingly polite.

Hiatha paused a moment, then left Yanna's bedchamber. Yanna waited until she saw the door open and close through the curtain.

Yanna sneered.

She heard a noise off to the side, and saw Garas' hazy figure through the translucent curtain into the sanitary. This was her chance.

She dove down to the floor and snatched the pouch from the cabinet. Her chain tinkling, she started to cross the room even as she fiddled with the drawstring and poured a small amount into her hand. She shook her hand a bit to level off the mound of powder just before stepping up to the curtain, her hand extended before her.

At that moment, Garas finished what he was doing and started to turn back towards his room.

Yanna tore the curtain aside and cried, "Garas!"

Startled, Garas whirled around.

Yanna gave the sleeping powder a quick, strong puff of her breath, sending a smoky cloud into Garas' face.

Garas blinked in surprise and started to raise his hand to disperse the cloud. The next second, as he took his first breath and inhaled some of the powder into his nose and lungs, he gave two explosive coughs, stumbling, grasping for the doorway behind him as his eyes glazed over. He paused, blinking rapidly, taking another breath but pulling in only a small bit of the already fading cloud, but enough to make him moan with intense fatigue. His muscles grew weak and his mind fuzzy as he slowly slumped to his knees.

Hellfire, Yanna thought, and blew another puff into his face.

Garas' eyes rolled back and he fell to the floor with a loud thud, motionless.

Yanna sighed. She watched him for a few minutes. For a long moment she feared he had not survived the second dose, but then his sides began to rise and fall, though very slowly, his breathing rather shallow.

She felt his pulse on the side of his neck. It was there, albeit a little weak. He would live.

Yanna was not pleased. The single puff would have ultimately knocked him out, but it took far too long. She needed it quick. It had to bring the person down almost immediately. She had to use the larger dose, despite the risk. Fortunately, her compatriots at the other end of the Portal would be ready. They knew she might have to resort to such tactics.

What's more, she could not use this technique to knock out Hiatha. She could not risk that formidable woman getting only a partial dose. If she managed to sound an alarm or get to fresh air, Yanna's plans would be for naught. And as much as it would have pleased her to kill Hiatha, her master had forbid her to take a life.

She looked down at the pouch in her hand, then towards the open window. An idea came to her mind.

She fetched the pearl under her bed and unlocked her collar, tossing it aside. That was the last time she was to wear that thing. She headed into Hiatha's chamber and stepped over to the bed. She reached over to the window above it and closed the shutters. Next, she stood near the table with the lamp and turned it up, until it burned with a bright flame. Yanna then paused to take several deep breaths in a row, holding the last one in, and started to pour a generous amount of the powder into the flame.

The flame crackled loudly and briefly surged up and out of the glass container, turning purple. The somnolent mist began to billow from the flame in a rush, like a column of ash from a volcano. Still holding her breath, Yanna fanned the cloud with her hands, trying to disperse it through the room. When her lungs began to hurt for air, she quickly ran from the room and towards her window, gasping as she panted to catch her breath.

She could not have timed it any slimmer. Hiatha's quarters were only a short distance down the path from the kitchens, and soon the outside door opened and closed.

"What the... blazing hellfire!" Yanna heard Hiatha shout. "How did... how..."

She heard Hiatha cough, then gasp. Something hit the floor with a muffled metallic sound and a splatter. Another gasp. A pause, and then a crashing thud. And then silence.

Yanna took a deep breath, held it, and rushed over to the curtain, pulling it aside.

Through the miasma generated by the somnolent mist, she saw an upended platter and spilled food. Just beyond this was the prone and motionless form of Hiatha, sprawled out over the floor, very deeply asleep.

Yanna went over to the window and breathed again. She smiled to herself. She would wait a short while longer for the skies to grow a bit darker and give the other slaves a chance to return from the kitchens, and then she would head to the Portal chamber.

Amanda managed to eat some of what Sirinna had brought, but she got only halfway through it before her stomach fluttered in her increasing nervousness. From then on she only picked at her food, taking only small nibbles. She was sure that if she ate too much in her present state she would just throw it back up.

The only good thing about it was that it had distracted her from the prospect of having to go home and part from Sirinna forever.

"Sirinna, I was wondering about something," she said tentatively.

"Yes, love?"

"What if... what if what Yanna had said were true. I mean, I know it isn't, but what if it had been? What if Rennis really wanted to take you back and take you out of here?"

Sirinna paused a moment, then raised her eyes to Amanda's, her gaze steady and sure. "I wouldn't go, Amanda."

"Why not?" Amanda asked. There was no trace of admonishment or anger to it. She truly wanted to know. "After everything Roquan did to you, I thought..."

"Amanda," Sirinna said firmly. Amanda quieted and listened. "As Master Roquan reminded me, a slave is told that there are three things that are very important to being a slave. Those three things are loyalty, sensuality, and submissiveness. Of those, loyalty is the most important."

"Is that what he punished you for? For being disloyal?"

To Amanda surprise, Sirinna smiled. "No, he didn't. He punished me for failing to be submissive, not for lack of loyalty, and after I had a chance to think about it today, I realized that this was significant."

"Why?"

"Loyalty is everything to a slave. Without that, a slave has nothing. No one wants a slave that is not loyal, Amanda. Not an Overlord, certainly not a client. No one. Loyalty is very much prized and cherished. I'm loyal to Master Roquan. Nothing has changed that."

Amanda was trying very hard to understand. "But he was still wrong to punish you," Amanda insisted.

Sirinna said nothing, her eyes downcast.

"Sirinna, it's okay to believe that," Amanda said, her voice rising. "It's got to be! Just because you disagree with him doesn't mean you're disloyal to him!"

Sirinna finally lifted her head, her eyes glistening. "Maybe... maybe you're right about that."

For that brief moment, there was a connection between them. Each understood the other perspective just a little better. Amanda understood why Sirinna enjoyed her life as a slave. Sirinna understood Amanda's reluctance to submit to being a slave.

"We better finish up," Sirinna said. "It's just getting to twilight now, and I'm anxious to get Yanna sorted out."

Amanda nodded. No more than she was, certainly. Yet she could not still the restlessness inside her. She almost suggested going to Roquan and convincing him enough to at least come down to the Portal with them, but she knew Sirinna would not go for this.

Sirinna needed to prove herself. She needed to prove to Roquan she still deserved to be called a good slave. Amanda could see this now. She just had to hope that Sirinna knew more about the situation than Amanda did.

Roquan finally threw his quill down in disgust and rose from his desk so quickly his chair tilted back and fell over, saved from a loud report only by the furs that lined the floor of his quarters.

He ran a hand over his hair and marched into his bedchamber, where he poured himself a goblet of wine. He took a single long pull from it and sighed deeply. He stared down into it, swirling the wine around idly.

Twenty years. That was how long the D'ronstaq Manor had been his to command. In that time, he had gained a great deal of experience and wisdom. Before the sabotage, his slaves had no equal. Rarely was a client dissatisfied, and rarely was another Overlord not jealous of his accomplishments. Surely this meant he was doing something right, that his decisions were the correct ones, that he brooked no interference from others and tolerated even less any dissent to his rule.

Yet one simple statement from his Healer had shattered his concentration for the evening.

Disagreement was not disloyalty. What nonsense was this?

In Roquan's mind, loyalty demanded agreement, even if it were tacit. It was the job of the Overlord to make decisions and carry the responsibility of maintaining the Manor. Disagreement would make this impossible if it were allowed to continue.