Chapter 4

Lavender's return to consciousness was slow and incredibly painful. Waking up to a bruised and battered body was nothing new to her; she had experienced it many times before as a matter of fact, but the level of pain this time was new in its intensity and totality. As she tried to open sand-filled eyes she could swear that even her hair hurt! But it wasn't so much the pain, although it was sharp and intense, it was the absolute exhaustion that catapulted this to a whole other level. She had been tired before, pushed to the very end of physical limits, but never this soul-draining, bone-shaking weariness!

She blinked her eyes a couple of times trying to clear them, too tired to lift her hand to rub, and ran her tongue along parched lips. The hunger in her middle was like a small badger trying to claw its way out, but even worse was her thirst. Moving her head to one side she tried to summon what little willpower she had to force her body to move. This body is dying, she thought. Maybe I should just lay back and let it.

"You're not dying," a melodious voice said from somewhere around her head. Turning back to the other side Lavender saw a doll sitting next to her. This is interesting; I've always wondered what a hallucination would look like. The doll had deep red hair, tiny fair features and looked back at her with the biggest green eyes she had ever seen. The vision cocked its head and pursed her lips into a stern pout before speaking again.

"I said you're not dying," it said. "Although from what Nilsen told us about the aftereffects of the drug he gave you it probably feels like you are, or maybe you just wish you were."

"He said you would be hungry and thirsty when you awoke. Would you like some water? Wine?" The voice came from a little farther away although it sounded almost identical to the first. Straining her neck Lavender saw another doll, a duplicate in every way of the first. Well, why not? she thought to herself. If you can dream of one talking doll, why not two? The second doll was holding a jug and suddenly the thirst she had been feeling became overwhelming.

"Water," she croaked, barely able to make a sound. The talking doll obliged by pouring a clear liquid into a cup and bending down, held it to her lips. Lavender gulped at the sweet tasting liquid although after four or five swallows the cup was pulled back.

"Not so much all at once," Doll Number One admonished. "Let that settle and then you can have more. You can have as much as you want, just not all at once."

"Where?" Lavender groaned. "Who?" Lavender had pretty much figured out she was either seriously injured and in a hospital, or dead and in an afterlife she had never before professed to believe in.

"Succinct and to the point," Doll Number Two added. "Admirable."

"As to where you are ... Well, to be precise you are in our brother's bed in his rooms within the deSiso household in Salas." She paused for a moment and continued, "I suppose it's as close as Jeevel has to an embassy here for now.

"As for who, I am Deimie deSiso and this one is my sister, Fobie. It may be hard to tell us apart at first, but really it's quite simple. I'm the intelligent one and she's the pretty one." The second, identical in every way Lav could tell, giggled and held the cup out to her again. Lav drank it down quickly but then laid back knowing there wouldn't be another for a little while anyway.

"Cerberus?" she asked, knowing full well in the pit of her stomach what the answer would be. She didn't know exactly how long she had been unconscious, but given how long she had been held captive in the gladiator pits she knew her shiakye couldn't have survived.

"Your puppy?" Deimie asked. At least she thought it was Deimie; they hadn't moved that she could tell, but she couldn't have told the difference between them if her life depended on it. "He's in the storeroom growling at anyone who comes close. Nilsen, the big bully, won't let us in to see him, but he told us he'll be fine. Still weak, but getting better. When you feel up to it we'll take you down there to see him."

"Now," Lavender demanded weakly, the relief flooding her soul battling the weakness of her body.

"Oh, we don't think so," Deimie said seriously. "You need to regain your strength a little before you can even try to get up." As if to put lie to the doll's words Lavender struggled to lift herself up from the bed. Casually Deimie reached over and pushed against Lavender's chest causing her to fall back into the bed with a loud grunt. Too exhausted to even move, Lavender glared up at her diminutive jailers.

"See," the doll said. "You're too weak. If you were to fall — and you would — we wouldn't be able to help you. Not even with that big hunk of meat over there." Lavender glanced over to where the doll was looking and saw what was obviously a guard standing at the ready. He didn't look happy and Lav surmised it was due to the proximity of the dolls to their captive. She almost smiled thinking that as weak as she felt she wasn't a danger to a kitten let alone a person. "When you're ready you can go and see him, or maybe if he's better before you, he can be brought here."

"Not dead?" she asked.

"'Fraid not," the second doll, Fobie, said with a giggle. "It's not paradise and we're not angels. You may feel like you're dead, but Jarrah has assured us you'll be fine in a few days. That hideous potion of Nilsen's takes a lot out of you, but you'll recover."

One of the twins — she'd figured that much out — lifted Lav's head while the other helped her drink until she'd had almost enough. By then the weariness began to drag at her and staying awake was like trying to swim while wearing a winter coat. Too soon the darkness again covered her like a blanket and she remembered nothing.

"How is she?" Nilsen asked as he entered the room. Deimie and Fobie were reclining in separate chairs each reading one of their seemingly infinite number of books. Nilsen was himself a voracious reader but nothing compared to the twins. He glanced at the huge form in his bed, apparently sleeping peacefully.

"Quite well," Fobie answered without looking up.

"She was awake for a bit a little while ago," Deimie continued. "She took sweetened water and then went back to sleep. She asked about her doggie and we let her know he was still alive. Tried to get up to see him, but she's still too weak."

"Probably will be for another day, I'd say," he grunted. "Her animal is doing fine also. Still as weak as she is, but I'd hardly expect anything else. Snapping and fussing, but eating and drinking anyway. As soon as she's able I'll take her down to see him."

"Maybe you should bring him up to see her," Deimie suggested.

"We believe the effects of the drugs were harder on her than you might think," Fobie continued. "Jarrah agrees, combining both the stimulant and the depressant together were bad enough; add to that the ten-day in the arena ... she may be recovering for longer than you had hoped. We think it would help if she saw her puppy when she woke up next time."

"Puppy!" Nilsen snorted. "That thing is a trained war hound if there ever was one. It's dangerous enough where it's locked up. Makro would cut my liver out if I brought it in here, and then make me eat it if anyone got hurt!"

"No one will get hurt, Nil," Deimie said looking up at him.

"Are you sure?" he asked. They both nodded to him and he shrugged and sighed. "All right, I'll bring him in here after I've fed him again. Maybe if I had something to show him that had her scent it might help control him, or maybe it would just drive him crazy. I suppose there's only one way to tell. Do you think there's any of her clothing left from when we brought her in?"

"Those nasty things?" Deimie said wrinkling up her nose. "I doubt it, but look in your bathroom. If they're still around it would be in there."

Nilsen nodded and walked into the bathing area. It looked like Deimie was right; there didn't seem to be anything left of either hers or his until he saw a scrap of leather poking out from under one of the benches. Bending over he pulled out what was left of her leather jerkin. He smiled; Katern would have flayed the skin off whoever was supposed to clean in here if she found out it had been missed, but Nil was glad for the oversight. It was nasty, greasy, smelly, and sweat-stained but if it didn't carry her scent, nothing did. Carrying it gingerly he went back to the sleeping area.

"I've got this," he said holding up his foul prize. "I'm going to feed the beast and then see if I can entice him down here. Just to be safe, you two shouldn't be here."

"We will be quite safe with you here," Deimie said solemnly.

"Makro's going to have my hide," he muttered as he shook his head. "I don't know why I trust everything you tell me; I must be daft."

"You trust us because you love and understand us," Fobie said coming up out of her chair to give him a hug.

"I don't understand anything about you two," he said sighing as he returned her hug. "But for whatever reason I do trust you. I just hope it doesn't get you hurt someday; I'd never forgive myself if that happened."

"We will be fine," she admonished. "Now, go play with your puppy and bring him back here."

"Oh, I'll bring the dog back here, but he certainly isn't mine," he protested.

"Of course he is," Deimie chimed in. "He belongs to Lavender and she belongs to you, therefore he belongs to you. You are so stupid sometimes."

"Warrior Lavender. Does. Not. Belong. To. Me!" he said with exasperation. "I wish you would stop saying that."

"She most certainly does," Fobie continued. "Or will; it's the same thing. Now, will ... It's just a matter of semantics. It's really the same, you know."

"No, I don't know," he said. "But one thing I do know is arguing with you two is an exercise in futility. That being the case I'm going to stop it and be on my way. Rolf, you be ready when I get back."

"I will be, Your Highness," the guard on duty nodded. "I don't suppose I'd be able to talk you out of this, would I?"

"No," Nilsen shook his head. "What my sisters say is true: it's probably a good idea for our guest to see her dog when she wakes up. It's still weak enough for us to control, for now anyway. If he sees her it might be easier to control him when he does regain his strength, which won't be long now, I fear. Good idea or bad, we'll give it a try. I'll be back soon." Carrying the ratty vest, he left the room.

He could hear the low growls as he approached the storeroom. Opening the door cautiously he poked his head in, ready to close the door quickly if needed. The animal was lying on the floor, muzzle on its front paws, eyes glaring at him. It still had the chain around its neck, he was glad to see, and the chain was still attached to the barrel of flour which Nilsen hoped would be heavy enough to hold it if it decided to attack. Nilsen did note that there was slack in the chain, enough to allow the dog a short span to attack if it decided to. He wondered if this was an accident or by design. He would have done the same if the situation was reversed. Nilsen had no idea how intelligent the animal was, but the safest course was to assume it had at least some rudimentary cunning; just because it was an animal didn't mean it couldn't understand what was going on. Besides, he strongly believed it was a trained war dog, or at least a guard animal and although he had no experience with their kind he had heard stories about their capabilities, which were considerable.

"You're looking better, big fellow," he said in a calm, measured tone. "If you're good, I think I've got something you want." Coming only as close as he thought the dog could reach with the chain extended he stopped and held out the vest. The growling stopped when the dog saw the vest and a low whimper started up.

"That's right," Nilsen said crouching down and extending the vest as far as he could. "You smell her, don't you? Be a good boy and I'll take you to see her."

Cerberus whimpered some more and inched forward on his haunches. Seeing the man wasn't going to come any closer he slowly rose to his feet still looking at the vest in Nilsen's hand. Moving forward in jerky movement, as if his legs still weren't completely under his control yet, he came close enough to stick his nose into the folds of the vest and took a deep breath. Suddenly he sat back on his haunches and swiped with a paw at the vest, moving more like a cat batting at a toy then a dog. Nilsen dropped the vest to the ground between them and stood up. The dog lowered his head and started nuzzling the vest immediately.

"Well," Nilsen said, talking to the dog as if it were another person, "do you want to see her or not?" Cerberus looked up at Nilsen and then over at the door. The whimpering stopped and he lay back down with his head on the vest. Nilsen wondered if he was as crazy as the twins; he had the same feeling that he was reasonably safe with this animal. There was absolutely nothing to justify that feeling, but again he had learned to trust both the feelings and the twins, nonetheless.

Just in case, though, he loosened the swordbreaker/dirk he always carried and held it in his left hand. Cautiously he walked around the prone animal to the chain bolted to the cask. Glancing down as he reached for the shackle, he heard a sudden rattling of the chain. As he turned he felt two great weights thumping down on his shoulders with enough force to almost drop him to his knees. He was confronted by two very large eyes and a mouthful of very large white teeth. Later he would laugh at himself for being so stupid, but at the time he could only think about the dog's eyes: they were pale lavender, the exact same shade as the woman's! Amazing! he thought. What are the chances of that?

"So, what do we do now?" he said, looking the dog directly in the eyes. He knew he was in danger, but not as much as one might think. As he turned, his dirk had come up and was now resting just under the breastbone of the animal as it stood on its hind legs. He knew if it really was attacking it would have bitten first. It still might, he reasoned, but a quick thrust would drive the dirk, designed as it was to pierce anything up to plate armor, under the ribs and into the beast's heart.

For a moment they stood there staring at each other. Finally the dog dropped to the ground and turned back to the vest lying on the floor. Nilsen took a deep breath — he hadn't realized he'd stopped breathing during the confrontation — and turned back to the bolted chain. Detaching it, he wrapped it around his right wrist and turned back to the dog.

"Well, Lord Cerberus, shall we go see your mistress?" The dog huffed, picked up the vest in his mouth and looked back at Nilsen expectantly. "You, I and your mistress are going to have a long talk about you, my furry friend," Nilsen said shaking his head. "You understand far too much." Cerberus turned and started walking towards the door pulling Nilsen along behind him. Out in the hall he stopped and turned back to Nilsen with what Nilsen could swear was a questioning look.

"What? You don't know where to go from here?" Nilsen grinned. "I guess you don't know everything, now do you? This way." He pulled the dog along behind him as he headed for his rooms.

The moment they hit the door, Cerberus took off towards the bed dragging Nilsen helplessly behind him. Nilsen saw Deimie standing next to the bed and he was suddenly terrified she would be hurt by the running animal, either by accident or by the dog thinking she was preventing him from getting to his mistress.

"Get out of the way!" he yelled.

Deimie turned and cocked her head slightly at the sight of the running dog. Frowning she took a small step to the side and towards them pointing her finger at the dog's nose. Suddenly Cerberus realized someone was in front of him and growled, then to Nilsen's utter amazement, he stopped, or at least he tried to stop. All four paws were moving, sliding on the slick stone floor as he tried to avoid Deimie's outstretched finger like it was a burning ember! He might have been able to do it if he hadn't been dragging Nilsen along behind him. As it was Nilsen was off balance and Cerberus's sudden stop caused them both to crash together and fall in a heap at Deimie's feet. Shaking her head and tapping her foot she looked down at the jumbled mass of man and dog. Shoving the dog's rump off his leg, Nilsen stood sheepishly. He could swear the dog had that same look as he sat up on his haunches; he hadn't even known that was possible!