Chapter 5

Lavender fretted about Deimie's parting words as she lay there in the bed. She had resolved to ask the other twin, Fobie, about it when she brought Cerberus back but never had the chance. A short time later when Cerberus trotted in through the door Fobie had stuck her head in, glanced around and then immediately left without a word. One thing she was certain of, she had no intention of being "bound" to anyone; better to be dead!

But still, she wanted to know what it all meant. There was another person available to ask so she decided to take advantage of the situation.

"You are Banar?" she tentatively asked the guard.

"Eh?" Banar roused himself to look over at her. He hadn't been sleeping; he was just in that relaxed state of readiness soldiers were able to assume when they were on post but not really active. "Oh, ya sure, Banar. You need something?"

"No," she answered. "I am asking what she meant by this 'bound' word?"

"Ah, well that's both easy to explain, and then again not so easy," he said settling back in his seat again. "Not much of an answer, I know, but let me try. Serfs wearing the salidin are bound to their liege." He frowned slightly and stopped to think for a moment. "It ain't like a normal slave/master type of thing, so it's kind of hard to explain to someone who hasn't experienced it."

"She thinks me a slave?" Lavender said aghast. "I a freeborn warrior, not a slave!"

"Now, now," he said soothingly. "You're yelling at the wrong person here. You asked me a question and I'm trying to answer you.

"As for Lady Deimie — at least I think it was Lady Deimie, it's hard to tell exactly — she was telling you what it is and that's a fact. See this?" he pointed to the salidin around his own neck. "Most places around here this means you are a slave. Ain't no maybe about it." Lavender reached up to finger the band around her own neck. "If you got one you're a slave. You got one; I got one; that means we're slaves. Now let me go on," he said when he saw Lavender about to say something. "Now I was born a slave back in Jeevel; both my mam and da were slaves also. Ain't much to be said about it, just the way it is.

"Now," he continued. "I didn't get my salidin until I was brought into the king's household and bound to Mistress, I mean, Queen Nesho. Best day of my life that was." Lavender could actually hear the worship in his voice; it somewhat nauseated her.

"Does not it sicken you to be called a slave?" she asked.

"It's what I been all my life," he said with a shrug. "Back in Jeevel most everyone I knew were slaves so I don't know no different. Might as well ask a man blind from birth if he misses seeing the sky."

"She said..."

"Lady Deimie," Banar interrupted.

"What?" Lavender said.

"Its Lady Deimie or Princess Deimie," he said calmly. "She is a child of the royal family and should be addressed as such by the likes of us."

"I bow to no one," she replied haughtily. "Besides, she never told me different."

"She wouldn't," Banar nodded. "None of our ladies, or His Lordship, would. But that don't mean we shouldn't treat them with the respect they deserve." He furrowed his brow and thought for a moment more. "Though it's true, you ain't bound to anyone yet. Well, just leave that up to Mistress Katern. She'll deal with it as she sees fit. Speaking to that though, how come you ain't bound? Your master die? How'd that happen?"

"I know not what you are asking," Lavender replied.

"This," he again pointed to his salidin. "See that color? That means I'm bound to someone. If it were the color yours is, it would mean I'm not presently bound."

"Mine is different from yours?" Lavender was suddenly hopeful that maybe hers was different in some way.

"What? You never seen it?" When she shook her head he got up and moved over to the dressing table. Rooting around in one of the drawers he finally pulled out a hand-held mirror and tossed it to her on the bed.

Lavender noticed immediately that she looked as gaunt and pale as she had ever seen herself, although she cared little for that. Then she saw the pewter colored band around her neck. It looked identical to Banar's except his was a rich golden color.

"This mean I have no master?" she asked hopefully.

"No," he said, dashing her hope. "It means you aren't bound to anyone right now. Under the law you're still a slave; just the ownership may be in dispute.

"But that won't last long," he continued. "The first person who comes along with the proper equipment can do the ritual and you'll be theirs till they get rid of you. That's what Lady Deimie was talking about; you get to choose who to be bound to. Kind of silly if you think about it, the slave choosing her master, but I've seen some silly things in this household and to tell the truth I wouldn't have it any other way."

"I'd rather be dead!" she hissed.

"Might happen anyway," Banar shrugged. "But if you're going to do it you'd better do it quick, before someone binds you, 'cause if they do, you won't be able to off yourself unless they say it's okay. Not likely if they go to the trouble of binding you." Then he looked over at her with a frown, "But you ain't going to do it on my watch, or Rolf's either."

"I cannot live as a slave," she whispered.

"That ain't the question," Banar said, again with a shrug. "You're already living like one; question is how long you're going to live as one."

For the next few hours Lavender sat in the bed contemplating and mulling over what she had learned. Some might have called it pouting, but who's going to say that to a seven-and-a-half-foot giantess who could probably take your head off quicker than just looking at you. But whatever you called it she sat quietly, petting Cerberus's huge head, until her introspection was interrupted by a virtual crowd descending upon her.

In all, six of them came through the door and without asking permission, pulled up chairs or stood back against the wall. She recognized most of them: the twins, Jarrah the healer and Nilsen (the blue-eyed fool, she allowed herself to think.) The other two she didn't recognize. One was dark-haired, of middling height, for a shorty, and well curved in the manner of quite a few shorty women. The other was smaller, shorter and slimmer than the twins. Lavender noted she wore a gold band around her neck and stood directly behind the dark-haired one.

The dark-haired one didn't say anything at first, but sat in a chair that Nilsen dragged over for her. Lav assumed she was his mate or concubine from the way he treated her, but then he seemed to treat the other four women equally and she knew they were either his sisters or slaves. An interesting puzzle, but one for another time since it was apparent this group had something on their minds.

"Good afternoon, Warrior Lavender," Nilsen said as he was moving the chairs around. "I hope you're feeling better. We wanted to wait for this, but if you feel up to it there are a number of things we need to ask you.

"I think you know most everyone here," he continued before she could answer. "Deimie, Fobie and Jarrah you've met already. This," he pointed to the dark-haired woman, "is my older sister, Makro." He emphasized the word older and the woman frowned slightly when he did. Lavender was beginning to think that this Nilsen not only enjoyed teasing his sisters, but was good at it too. Somehow she didn't get the impression it included the beatings and degrading names that had been a constant part of her childhood — actually all her life — until she finally left.

"And this," he said, now pointing to the tiny woman standing behind Makro, "is Katern. Katern runs this household so if you need anything, ask her. But try not to anger her," he warned, "she's a mean little thing. Will have you for breakfast one bite at a time." Lavender saw Katern's eyes roll up in exasperation and her hand twitch. Lav wondered if they weren't in front of outsiders if maybe Lord Nilsen would be receiving another thump on the head. Well deserved, she thought.

"Nil," Makro spoke up, sounding as exasperated as Katern looked, "stop acting the ass. We have a lot to go over and limited time to do so." Nilsen actually looked a little contrite, but Lav had a feeling that wouldn't last very long.

"Warrior Lavender," Makro said turning back to Lav. "My idiot brother has declared you a warrior and in this one area I must recognize his superior knowledge. We are all glad he was able to rescue you from the arena, although from the sound of it you ended up doing all the work. That's not all that unusual, I might add. Everybody else does the work and he gets all the credit."

"Somebody has to be the leader, stand back and delegate," he protested.

"Would you two shut up?" Jarrah snapped. "Stop playing around long enough to get this business over with, will you? Gods, you'd think you two were squabbling toddlers."

"Jarrah," Nilsen said quietly, "we're just trying to keep this from becoming too dire. It's already serious enough as it is." He turned back to Lavender and she could feel the power of command radiate from him. Very few people gave her the feeling that doing what they said was the right thing to do. Very few were that type of natural leader. Her father was one; here apparently was another.

"Warrior Lavender, I apologize," he said. "I do not mean to make light of your situation. You find yourself in a tough position and I do not envy you. Hopefully we will be able to help you, at least a little. All we ask in return is that you tell us your story. It would aid us considerably in understanding what exactly is going on around here. Will you help us?"

Lavender's head began to nod even before she thought about her answer. It irked her somewhat, but then she did owe them something and if all they asked was for her tale, how could she refuse them?

Makro directed the questioning starting from when she arrived in Salas. She asked how and why she got here, but didn't pursue the questioning when she refused to answer. What happened to her while in Salas she was very willing to talk about.

They were particularly interested in the band around her neck and who placed it there.

"I not entirely sure," she admitted. "They hit me hard when taking me and when I woke up it was there."

"But was it ever activated?" Jarrah mused. "It's hardly conceivable that someone would place a salidin and then not activate it."

"Even more to the point," Makro said, "why collar someone you intend to send to their death in the arena? They're somewhat more available these days, but not inexpensive. It doesn't make sense."

"I'd be willing to bet it was never activated," Nilsen interjected. "Which makes me think it's probably someone who doesn't really understand how to use them. Maybe they thought just putting it on enabled them to control their captive. If that were the case I'll bet they had a nasty surprise when the lady here woke up." Lav remembered the satisfying crunch of the skulls of the two guards who had mistakenly come within arm's reach of her that first day. Like overripe melons they had split open and spread their contents over the cell floor. After that her arms had never been free until it was time to fight.

"You're right, Nil," Makro finally said with a sigh. "Something isn't right here. This is a huge change and I for one can't foresee just how it's going to affect Jeevel. I can't imagine it would be anything good. One thing I do know is that Mamma Nesho needs this information as quickly as possible. Please excuse me; I'll go to take care of that now."

"Before you leave, sister," Deimie spoke up, "there is the matter of what to do about our not-so-gentle giant here."

"Now wait a minute," Nilsen protested. "It's not up to us to make any decisions for her. Any decision is for her to make, not us!"

Makro calmly held up her hand just as everyone started trying to talk at once. The conversation dwindled to nothing as everybody turned to look at her expectantly.

"Nilsen," she said, "your intentions are admirable, as usual, but unfortunately they don't meld well with reality, also as usual." Nilsen grunted at her, but didn't say anything. Turning to Lavender, Makro continued, "Do you know anything about the band you have around your neck?"

"Just what he told me," she admitted, pointing her chin at Banar. "He says it means I am a slave."

"In the basest sense, that's true," Makro sighed. "But in reality it means a great deal more.

"It's called a salidin," she continued in her lecturing tone. "They are very common in the south and in fact whole societies are built around its use. In the south it denotes a sort of belonging, a binding if you will, of one person to another. Here in the north it also signifies a belonging, but usually in the slave/master type of relationship.

"I won't lie to you: that is where you find yourself now. Once the salidin is in place it cannot be removed except by the death of the wearer. The attempt will cause excruciating pain and if it is removed you will die. I am sorry, but that is how it is. It's one of the properties of the device. Yes, I call it a device. It's Old Technology and to be honest we have no idea how it works, but we do have a good idea of what it does.

"Your case is somewhat different. Normally when it's installed, it's activated. This takes a drop of blood from the person to whom you are to be bonded and a special device, and you are bound to that person until he or she transfers that bond to someone else. The bond can also be broken by either your death or your bondholder's. Unfortunately for you, if your bondholder dies your salidin merely becomes inactive, like it is now, until someone else activates it. You will always be in danger of being bonded against your will while the salidin is inactive. While you are bonded and your bondholder lives, nobody else can change that bond without his or her permission.