Chapter 2

As Amanda struggled to fall asleep, another young woman struggled to stay awake.

Eyes of indigo fought to stay open behind wayward curls of brown. Her head was propped up, palm under her chin, fingers curled against her soft, cherubic face as she drowsed. Before her, deep amber liquid dripped patiently into a flask, a light fog of white drifting slowly above the surface of the rising fluid.

She dozed. Her head slipped from her hand, jerking her awake.

Evella experienced a moment of panic that she had missed the moment. When she reassured herself that the mixture was not yet done, she let out an exhausted sigh.

She groaned and rubbed at her eyes, her chair creaking as she leaned back. She raised her arms and stretched. The sash of her Healer robe came loose, and one side fell away, exposing one small, pert breast. The nipple stood erect from the touch of the chill autumn evening.

She uttered a tiny gasp and yanked her robe closed. She wrapped her arms around herself and blushed furiously despite her solitude.

Gods, why does she insist on humiliating me? Evella lamented silently.

But she knew perfectly well the reasoning behind it. By denying her any clothing save for the trappings of her position, she would not attempt to leave until her task was done. It was in case her own obsession would prove insufficient to insure her loyalty after she had figured out to what end her Mistress intended to put this altered formula.

Evella covered her eyes with her hand, then ran her hand up and into the wild curls of her hair. She let out a shaky sigh, her eyes misting as if on the verge of tears.

She didn't have time for hysterics, however. Not when the last bits of amber fluid were snaking their way through the apparatus.

She drew her hands around to her cheeks, framing her face in her slender fingers for a moment as she let out a quick sigh. "All right," she said in a wispy voice. "Let's see if I got it this time."

Evella opened a drawer and pulled out a small cloth bag held closed by a drawstring. She looked distressed at the lightness of the bag in her hand, and even more so when she opened it.

I'm nearly out of Kinsalla again.

She grabbed a tiny wooden spoon from outside the circle of brilliance afforded by a small oil lantern hanging above her head. She scraped the bottom of the bag several times until she had enough to fill the spoon.

She took a breath, held it, and slowly tipped the herb into the flask.

The fluid began roiling at once. Amber deepened to gold, and then deep crimson sunset. Evella's eyes widened. Her lips quivered and curled into a slow smile. "I-I got it ... yes, I..."

Evella gasped as the liquid abruptly turned tar black and spurted from the neck like a miniature volcano. Wads of thickening goo splattered to the table around it. There was a sizzling sound and a smell of ashes as what remained in the flask frothed into a sticky mess.

The young Healer threw the spoon to the table and covered her face with her hands. "Gods be damned, this is impossible," she muttered in despair.

Evella knew there was only one thing she could do. She had to clear everything and start over again. But now she was out of a key ingredient, one only the Overlord could order. The Overlord was going to be doubly angry with her. Once for failing to modify the formula yet again, and twice for failing to watch her supplies so she could avoid another delay.

She trembled as she stood. She hated going out. Walking around the Manor in only a thin robe made her feel like a common slave. If it were not for the fact that her virtue was still intact, she would be a slave for all intents and purposes.

But the Overlord threatened to take even that from her if she kept failing at her task.

Evella stepped out of her office and shivered, but not from the crisp early autumn air. She looked across the curving path, towards the circle of water that surrounded the Overlord's private chamber like a moat. A narrow, ornate wooden bridge spanned the water, flanked by tall, slender trees in muted fall splendor. Small lamps glowed by magic along the paths.

The young Healer pulled her robe more tightly around her petite body and set out.

The soft sands against her bare feet still retained some of the warmth of the day, but it did little to chase away the chill that had settled into her. She picked her way around fallen leaves, her heart pounding as she crossed the bridge and headed up the path to the Overlord's chamber.

She was barely halfway to the door when she heard it, causing her to hesitate and her cheeks to glow. The Overlord had company.

Maybe she will be too busy to want to see me, Evella thought, but she knew it to be a vain hope. Nevertheless, she knocked on the door and waited to be summoned.

"Mmm ... enter..." murmured a sultry voice.

Evella shuddered. She swallowed hard and let herself in.

A torrid wave of air blew past her as she crossed the threshold. In the center of the round chamber, a fire burned and crackled within a wrought iron hearth. Smoke trails twined like snakes, drawn up by a constant updraft towards a vent in the ceiling. One half of the room was devoted to business, a desk and a filled scroll rack dominating that side. The other half was devoted to slumber and pleasure.

It was very much the latter that was in evidence that evening.

Despite how many times she had walked in on such an interlude, she wanted to cringe. It never got any easier. She had never wanted a posting at a Manor, and this was why.

Three naked, nubile young slaves lay upon thick furs on the floor. Strained moans and pitiful whimpers rose from all of them, writhing in rising pleasure that never consummated.

One of the girls was turned such that the Healer could see between her legs. Clinging like a second skin to the slave's sex was a piece of satiny black cloth that squirmed and squished against her folds.

As the Healer watched, the girl gasped and tensed, then fell limp with an anguished cry as her orgasm was again denied despite the intense rise.

"Mmm ... so have you done it?"

Evella flinched. Her eyes glazed as they fell upon the Overlord.

Overlord Freya D'yros lay upon her bed, her nightgown open and baring much of her voluptuous body, her honey-brown tresses strewn on the cushions about her head. Her long legs lay unabashedly spread, a fourth slave licking her lightly-furred sex. The slave's hips writhed and jerked, her pussy under the same merciless assault as the others.

Evella opened her mouth but could not get her voice to work. She was still too shocked by the wanton display to speak. Though with as long as she suspected the slaves had been kept from climax, she suspected it was more torture than pleasure for them.

Freya turned her head. "Well, Evella? You said you thought you had it this time?"

"I-I-I'm sorry, my Lady, I ... I failed again..."

Freya narrowed her eyes, though her breathing was heavy from her rising pleasure. "Then you will try again until you get it."

"Yes, My Lady ... but ... but I-I need more Kinsalla. I'm all out."

Freya's gaze grew icy. Evella drew in her breath and bit her lip, wrapping her arms around herself tightly.

The Overlord lay a hand on the slave's head. "Stop."

The slave drew back, trembling and panting hard. Her hips writhed madly, and she struggled not to whimper her distress. Freya swiftly rose from bed. She reached behind her slave and touched the object on the slave's pussy. The slave's panting eased and her hips slowed as the stimulation stopped.

Freya did the same to the other three. Each one in turn went limp, her pussy no longer being pleasured, but still aching horribly for release. The last one whimpered softly. Freya spanked her backside hard five times.

"Quiet," Freya snapped. "I will have no weakness in my slaves. Stand up, all of you."

The four girls rose shakily to their feet and gave their Overlord a pleading gaze.

Freya smiled coldly. "My little Healer here failed me again. So none of you get to cum tonight."

Evella gasped.

"And maybe not tomorrow, either, if she still continues to fail me. Oh, but then, she can't continue tomorrow because she stupidly ran out of an important ingredient and we have to wait until it gets here."

"My Lady, p-please, don't!"

Freya ignored her. "So your little pussies will have to just ache and strain for awhile. Maybe for a whole quarter moon."

None of the four made a sound, but it was clear in their eyes how horrified they were. The one that had been spanked was close to tears.

Gods, this isn't happening, Evella thought desperately. She can't do this!

"Now get out of my sight, all of you."

The four slaves turned and silently departed. Evella's heart lurched as she heard their still heavy and strained breathing and saw the unsteadiness in their legs.

Once Evella was alone with Freya, she shot the Overlord a small glare. "You can't ... you can't do that to them, my Lady. You could hurt them if you deny them too long."

Freya folded her arms and stepped up to Evella. The Healer shifted nervously at her Overlord's nudity. "They've handled worse. You see, I train my slaves properly, Evella. I make sure they can handle it. Not like at some Manors."

"I-I don't want you torturing them over me!"

"Then stop failing me, you whiny little brat. You told me you would have the Draught modified for me almost a moon ago."

"It's more complicated than it looks!" Evella wailed. She caught herself and forced her voice lower. "Y-you're having me compensate for an effect that I don't even fully understand. I've never even seen the formula for the Draught of Forgetfulness until you showed it to me."

Evella was still reeling from that revelation. The Draught was supposed to be a closely guarded Overlord secret. She and other Healers knew that when administered to a newly acquired captive from another world while still unconscious from Portal transit, it would erase all memory of her life prior to waking. It was supposed to make the captive more tractable and easier to train.

What she had not known was the additional ingredient that heightened sex drive, and the incredible amount that went into it. Or at least the amount that went into Freya's version. She assumed all Overlords' Draughts were so. Those slaves Freya had dismissed were suffering from their orgasm denial, but once Freya relieved them, they would eagerly come back for more. Sex was a physical addiction for them.

Freya looked thoroughly unimpressed. "And you were supposed to be the best chemist the Healer Guild has."

Evella blushed. "I'm not the best, my Lady. There's at least one that's better..."

"Yes, I know, but he is working for that upstart bastard Roquan. He's not exactly available to me, now, is he?"

"My Lady, please. You ask for the impossible. Even the Healer Guild doesn't fully understand the strange state an offworlder's mind is in when she's pulled through a trans-world Portal, and you're asking me to..."

"Enough!"

Evella nearly bit her tongue in her effort to silence herself quickly. She stared fearfully at her Overlord.

"You don't seem to understand, Evella. This is my only option. This is my only means to get what I want."

Evella said nothing, too afraid to speak.

Freya turned away from her Healer and folded her arms. "Damn that Roquan," she muttered vehemently. "Damn him."

Freya, of course, knew of Roquan's main transgression, that of training a Draughtless slave. But she had not known of his other, even more heinous crime until she had pieced it together herself recently.

Roquan had used Amanda as a spy on the other Overlords at the Conclave. That was how he had managed to counter every deal that Gronnus had tried to make. Freya had not bothered to examine the deal-making at the time. She had simply assumed that the oaf Gronnus had bungled the deals himself.

Now she had a new plan, one that would finally let her destroy Roquan. The first part had been to stir up resentment towards Roquan and force him to open trade with the Urisi. But the second part counted on Evella completing her task.

"M-My Lady... " Evella finally ventured in a small voice. "What ... what exactly are you planning to do with this alteration to..."

Freya turned. "That is not of your concern."

"But..."

Freya sighed. "Stop sniveling! But what?"

"I-I don't want to see anyone hurt."

"Then I suppose you should make sure your changes to the Draught are not painful."

"That's not what I meant! Who are you going to use this on? You don't need it on offworld captives, you give them that when..."

Evella gasped in surprise when Freya suddenly surged forward and cupped her hand under the Healer's chin. Evella trembled as she stared at her Overlord.

"You are not going to ask me any more questions, Evella," Freya said softly. "You are just going to do what I want you to like a good little girl."

Evella shuddered. "Y-you can't ... you can't treat me like one of your slaves."

Freya's lips curled into a smile. "Oh? Can't I?" She lowered her hand and stepped back. "Undress."

Evella clutched at the folds of her robe.

Freya's smile faded. "I will not tell you again, Evella."

Evella slowly lowered her hands. They trembled as they undid the sash, her cheeks glowing in humiliation as she parted the folds and bared her slim, lithe body. Freya held out her hand. The Healer whimpered as she held the robe to her Overlord.

Freya snatched it from her and stepped away, tossing it haphazardly over the back of her chair near the desk. "You latest blunder as forfeited your right to any clothing whatsoever. You'll stay naked until you get your task done. Just like the other slaves."

Evella sniffled once. She wiped quickly at one eye just before Freya turned around.

"And each time you fail me again, you lose another privilege. Another dignity. I'll have you entertaining me in the evenings instead of my other slaves."

"P-please, no..." Evella moaned.

"Then don't fail me again. I will place the order for your Kinsalla and whatever else you need. Perhaps I can get them to send it by Portal. But if you let yourself run out of Draught ingredients again, then I will collar you and make you truly one of my slaves."

"No, My Lady, I won't, I promise!" Evella cried.

"Now go away, before I decide I want you licking my pussy to make up for what I just missed."

Evella fled. She barely made it back to her quarters before she finally burst into tears.

While the young Healer gave vent to her despair, a merchant was doing his best to suppress his own.

Sitting cross-legged and perfectly still upon the bed, the only thing distinguishing Jollis from a statue was the very slow rise and fall of his chest. Even then, his breathing was shallow, purposely reducing his oxygen intake to assist his descent into meditative trance.

The hut he occupied had been a slave's quarters. The Wanderer Jollis had stripped it of all decoration, in hopes that the austerity would remove distraction and allow him to focus.

Yet with all his meditation -- indeed, this seemed to be his more common state these days -- it had helped him little. Each time he hoped for a revelation, for a quick means out of his increasingly precarious situation. The solution continued to elude him.

More troubling was the fact that these sessions were less about his main problem and more about the one remaining distraction, one that could not simply be removed from his sight as the simple hangings and ornaments of the room had.

Every thought that crossed his troubled mind was impeccably logical. All his reasons made sense. The greater good was paramount. The bigger goal was the priority. Surely he could bow to that wisdom, to the supreme vision of his ultimate work realized.

Slowly, Jollis opened his eyes.

He took a slow, deep breath and let it go. His dark eyes were sharp. His senses were open. His mind was clear. Leaving his face as stoic as his surroundings were spartan, he reached into a pocket of his robe and withdrew a Farviewing pearl.

Jollis held it before his eyes and stared at it hard, as if daring it come to life on its own and summon an image of the one to whom it was bound.

He willed his other hand to pass over the pearl and activate its magic. The hand left his side and rose slowly. His face was stone. Like the one time in his life he was forced to kill, this was simply a job that needed to be done. No feeling. No regret. Just summon, explain, and terminate the dialog forever. The consequences to his feelings did not matter. The consequences to her feelings...

... to her feelings...

His hand faltered.

Jollis let out a frustrated sigh. His fingers curled around the pearl tightly as both hands dropped.

He brought the clenched hand to his face and closed his eyes. It was gone. The crystal clarity of purpose he had summoned in his head shattered the moment he envisioned Amanda standing before him.

Jollis took another deep breath and slid out of bed. He dropped the pearl into his pocket and wandered over to the makeshift desk in the corner of the room.

Spread out upon the desk was a map of Oceanus. It was similar to the one that Roquan possessed, but marked differently. A smattering of red dots represented the palaces of Noble Lords. About a third were clustered on the mainland near Overlord Gronnus' Manor. The rest were scattered haphazardly about Oceanus, several dotting the islands in the ocean to the east and the sea to the south of the continent.

Barely a quarter of the Nobility. That was all the supposedly "well-traveled" slaves of Gronnus could give him. It was not enough. Had they been all concentrated in one area, the Inonni could have used it as a consolidated base with which to take the rest of Oceanus.

Jollis needed a new plan. He had needed a new one for the past moon. Each day would bring the Mages closer to discovering the secret of the Inonni Portals. He was out of time and out of options.

Well, not quite. He did have one remaining course of action, but he despised it. It meant pulling another into his ring of confidantes. He had already regretted having brought Gronnus into his circle.

Jollis turned from the map and extracted a second Farviewing pearl from his pocket. He waved his other hand over it.

The pearl glowed bright blue. Soon after, the image of a thin man in a robe and hood appeared from somewhere in a night-darkened glade. He bowed his head once. "Yes, my Wanderer?" he said in a reverent voice.

"I have thought on your suggestion, and I will use it," Jollis said curtly.

"I am honored."

"Do not be. It is not a good plan. It stands out only because it is the only plan."

"Is it not said that to gamble on a slim chance is not always wise, but to pass up even a small chance of gain when all is lost is surely the way of the fool?"

Jollis considered and nodded once. "True. Very well said."

"I thank you, Wanderer."

"But your plan lacks something. It needs an attractant. A lure. Bait." A pause. "I have an idea."

"What may I do to assist, Wanderer?"

"Obtain one thousand platinum for me as soon as possible."

The Cohort paused. He turned his head and leaned to the side in a whispered consultation with another. He nodded a few times before returning his attention to his Master. "It will be difficult."

"Nevertheless, it will be done. Notify me at once as soon as you have it. And I will need another thousand soon after that."

The Cohort exchanged a look with his compatriot. "Doubly difficult, Wanderer. We cannot obtain that much through anything but illicit means."

"Do what you need to do. I authorize it."

"Killing as well?"

Jollis heard the obvious hint of disgust in the Cohort's voice. It was well and good that his people did not crave blood. It was not the Inonni way. But sacrifices must be made. Things were out of control. They needed to be brought back under control by whatever means necessary.

"If needed," Jollis said tonelessly. "The blood will be on my hands. You are absolved."

The man bowed his head slowly and gratefully. Honor and responsibility were very important. Now he could not stain his soul with any violent acts he may have to commit. Yet the thought of performing them remained most distasteful to him. He would do it only as a last resort.

"That is all," Jollis said tersely, snapping his hand over the pearl. The Cohort disappeared as the pearl went dark.

Jollis lowered his hand, fingers tensing in an uncharacteristic display of anxiety. He looked back towards the map.

He had thought on it for so long. He had come up with nothing better than his underling's plan. And yet he was missing something. He was still not thinking straight. Was it because he could not purge himself of his feelings of love for Amanda?

Jollis had nearly half of Gronnus' slaves. There was no point in taking any more. He had stolen a look at Gronnus' records. The remaining two thirds would give him only three, perhaps four more Noble Lords.

He had seen why Gronnus was able to claim they were well-traveled. It was Overlord doublespeak that someone outside their circle would not know. Gronnus had obtained the bulk of his slaves by purchasing them from other Overlords all over Oceanus for as cheaply as he could. Which meant many were cast-offs. Slaves that were not as skilled, or that had training difficulties, or physical imperfections.

And yet as he stared at the map, he still believed there was something he was not seeing.

He pulled Amanda's Farviewing pearl out and looked at it with resignation.

Precious one, you continue to thwart me, he thought with wry amusement, one corner of his mouth curling upwards slightly. And I am again abetting it.

Regret was not the exclusive purview of the merchant. It could also be found in the frustrations of an ancient Mage.

Despite its enormous weight, the massively thick iron door to the Chamber of Protection flew open from the combined push spells of the exuberant apprentices that now flooded into the elegant corridor. They paid little heed to the mantra drilled into them from day one about leaving such chambers open, too distracted as they were jabbering to one another in unbridled excitement.

"It is trick. An illusion. A spell reflecting the focusing energy and making us believe that it comes from the source," proclaimed one prim-looking lanky young man.

"Oh, here now, enough of that trite theory of yours," cried a short, wild-eyed youth with permanently mussed hair. "I will not hear of it any longer!"

"It is certainly better than the fairy tale you spin!"

"And just what is wrong with my idea? Certainly we know there are gems that can store the essences of power and patterns of energy..."

"But of a location? You cannot bottle a point in space and time!"

"But what if you could? Then it makes perfect sense! Place it within the matrix of the Portal column, and the essence will seek to rejoin its point of origin and pull the Portal energies along..."

"Now you are really stretching it."

"Oh, stop it, both of you!" cried the shrill voice of a young woman with flaming red hair. "Surely this can be explained by a simple time-skip."

The prim one rolled his eyes. "Oh, now don't you start!"

"But we know that the flow of time can be altered by perception. If somehow we could tap into such a thing and reverse..."

The wild-eyed one laughed. "Even I know you cannot separate space from time! Really, what did they teach you in..."

From inside the chamber, a staff was thrust with a muttered curse at the door. It swung closed just as fast as it had opened. The walls rang like a gong.

The Mage Q'yros turned away from the door with a frustrated grunt and thumped his staff hard against the floor once, briefly adding to the still echoing reverberations.

He leaned heavily on the end of the staff, breathing hard for a few moments longer. Even the one spell to move the door had taken a lot from him. His body's physical age was again creeping towards parity with his chronological age, despite no longer being in the service of the Emperor. His workload had seemed to increase rather than decrease since returning to the Guild Hall.

Q'yros took a long, deep breath and let it go, pulling himself up to his full height, ignoring the popping and aching of his joints. His already heavily lined face creased even further as he frowned, his diamond-hard gaze narrowing as it looked upon the artifacts.

There was not much left that was recognizable. Some twisted remains of a gem chamber. Part of one energy column reflector. A few glittering shards of the Portal gem itself. The bulk of the remaining detritus were chunks of wood and masonry that had formed the floor and walls of the chamber in which the original Portal device had been housed. They had not contributed to the operation of the Portal, but contained very faint residual energy patterns.

Behind him, the door opened just far enough to allow the entry of another elderly Mage. He moved with much more alacrity than Q'yros, motivated not so much by relative vigor as by his red-faced anger. He threw a hand gesture behind him without looking back.

As the door closed with a much more sedate ringing thump, the other Mage stomped up to Q'yros and roared, "Why are you not dead?"

Q'yros gripped the top of his staff more tightly. Without turning, he replied, "I feel as if I should be, Guildmaster. Does that make you feel any better?"

Guildmaster Q'ixanna glared at Q'yros' back. He thrust an arm back towards the door. "Do you know what I just saw before I came in?"

"A group of apprentices talking amongst themselves, I would wager."

"Not just talking about anything, Q'yros. They were talking about that!" He gestured wildly towards the artifacts. "At least until I silenced them."

Q'yros turned. "I do hope you did not damage them," he said with undisguised acid in his voice. "We have so few promising ones as it is."

"I merely placed a quiet spell upon them. And just what did you mean by that remark about... ?"

Q'yros shook his head and waved a hand in dismissal. "Withdrawn. I am tired and in pain."

"Ha! Pain! Perhaps you have breached your Oath!"

Q'yros remained remarkably calm. He was at the point where nothing this petty could get to him anymore. "As much as I deeply regret depriving you of your fun, Guildmaster, I am in as good health as I can expect. No, the Oath remains as it was."

"I do not see how. Not after you have revealed the presence of the artifacts to the apprentices."

"At your blessing, I remind you."

"After you browbeat me into it! And I did not tell you to let them prattle about it through all the hallways."

Q'yros drew himself up straight, as uncomfortable as it was. He used the pain to focus his thoughts. "Perhaps I do not care anymore, Guildmaster. Perhaps I am still troubled enough at the lack of progress that I am willing to take risks."

"So was that your plan all long? To..."

"I am going to say this one more time and never again. I am not interested in your position. I am not interested in deposing you." He turned and swept an arm towards the artifacts. "This is my last great work, Guildmaster. After this is done, I am to retire. I will remove myself from your sight at that point."

Q'ixanna looked surprised. "You mean ... you will not retire here?"

"No. I thought that would please you."

The Guildmaster looked conflicted and did not reply.

It did not take long for Q'yros to figure out what was going through Q'ixanna's mind. Yes, he was interested in Q'yros no longer being an active Mage. But he had hoped to reap the benefits of Q'yros vast knowledge, which was far more than Q'ixanna ever possessed.

Q'ixanna valued information. It was like currency to him, and he was a miser with it. The more he hoarded, the more powerful he felt. It had taken nearly a moon for Q'yros to convince the Guildmaster to let others at the Hall take a look at the artifacts.

Normally, Q'yros would have taken matters into his own hands, consequences be damned. He was too popular among the others for the Guildmaster to have any true power over him. Some longed for the day that Q'yros would again take the position himself, as many were not happy with Q'ixanna.

But Q'yros could not work in an environment of extreme paranoia. He had had enough of that with Z'haas. So upon his return to the Guild Hall, Q'yros had sealed a Wizard's Oath declaring that he would do nothing that could be considered undermining to Q'ixanna's position.

Only Q'ixanna used a very broad interpretation of the word "undermining." The consequences of violating the Oath was painful death.