Chapter 33

Amanda awoke with a start, her eyes flying open and seeing nothing but smooth stone a hand's breadth from her face. She did not know where she was until she turned over on the soft furs.

She blinked and squinted at the bright, late morning light. She did not remember returning to the slave quarters, let alone her own niche. She had been so tired she had fallen asleep in the carriage despite her injuries. She looked down at her feet and felt her cheek and lips, but found nothing but smooth skin. She was clean as well and still smelled faintly flowery from the soap. She barely remembered that as well.

So now what? Surely he was already planning to sell her, auction her off, or turn her over to the Slavemasters for retraining. But would he even do that?

"There is no point," Amanda said just to hear her own voice and reassure her that he had not somehow secretly used the potion after all. "No point at all."

Some of the other slaves gave her a curious glance. Amanda's eyes flitted to them, and her gaze soon found Larra's. Larra was staring at her with eyes hard and cool. Amanda returned the same look. Perhaps if Norlan did realize that punishment would have no affect on Amanda, she could stand up to Larra more often. She had little left to lose.

Amanda stood up, and something silvery caught the light. She saw a single tray of food upon the table in the center of the chamber. Apparently she had not been awoken for the morning meal, but they had left her portion behind. Some of the pieces of fruit had darkened from exposure to the air, but she didn't care. Her stomach was rumbling at the sight.

Amanda yawned and crossed the chamber. She had only just bit into a piece of bread when a shadow passed over her. She looked up and flinched; Larra was standing over her.

"What did you do last night?" Larra demanded. Her voice never rose above its usual soft cadence, but there was no mistaking the air of assumed authority. She expected an answer.

"This slave does not have to answer you," Amanda said in an even voice muffled slightly by the bread in her mouth.

Amanda finished chewing the bread and reached for a piece of fruit. Larra snatched it from her hand.

"Stop it," Amanda snapped.

"What did you do last night?"

Amanda ignored the piece Larra had taken and took a different one. She took a bite before replying, "Why do you want to know?"

"You did something wrong last night, didn't you? Something that's going to affect the rest of us."

Amanda swallowed her bite and looked around. The other slaves were curious now, though most wore faces of bewilderment. She uttered a small sigh. Perhaps this was one time it was better they remained ignorant. Amanda herself had no idea what would happen next. Norlan had implied he would be in trouble but how far would it go? Would he lose his title? Would he no longer be able to afford keeping his slaves?

"If this slave did anything wrong, this slave will be the one punished," Amanda said, not bothering to look up at Larra.

"Liar."

One of the other slaves gasped.

"Why is this slave a liar?" Amanda asked, forcing her voice to remain calm.

"Because a slave that is to be punished isn't left unsealed."

The other slaves craned their necks or ducked their heads so they could see under the table. Amanda reached between her legs and pressed a tentative finger into her slightly damp folds. Her eyes widened. She gave her womanhood a small stroke. She could feel that as well.

"This slave does not know why she is unsealed," Amanda said with genuine wonder. This has to be some sort of oversight, she added in her head.

When Amanda tried to pick up another piece of fruit, Larra shoved the platter across the table, and it clattered to the floor. "You did something, you untrained little bitch," Larra hissed in Amanda's ear. "You did something to become Master Norlan's favorite."

Amanda's eyes widened. "His what?"

The other slaves exchanged looks. Some became sullen, leveling envious and hateful looks at Amanda.

"You became his favorite, and somehow did something to make the rest of us look bad."

"This slave did nothing of the sort."

"Then why are you unsealed?"

Amanda stared. Larra had never raised her voice before. Her eyes blazed. Amanda refused to cringe, but her voice quavered when she spoke. "I-I ... this slave doesn't know!"

Larra's hands balled into fists, and she trembled in rage before she finally whirled around and stalked away. Amanda risked a glance at the other slaves and received openly resentful looks in return.

"Do not even think of requesting anything from me," Larra said in a low, deadly voice. "I do not care how much punishment I will have to endure. I will not touch your pussy."

Amanda stared at Larra's back in total confusion. At least her use of the forbidden pronouns had temporarily shifted the scrutiny of the other slaves.

Amanda had no way of knowing (though she was starting to guess now) that being selected as a favorite slave had enormous implications among her peers. She remained unsealed and could engage in sexual pleasure whenever she wished while she was in the slave quarters. She could administer it herself or request the other slaves attend to her, and they could not refuse.

It was not often done, and was usually frowned upon. It came close to bestowing person-hood on the favorited slave. All slaves were supposed to be things to be owned and used.

Amanda let out a small, despairing sigh as she looked at the remains of the morning meal now splattered on the stones. Perhaps leaving her unsealed had not been an oversight after all. Perhaps Norlan was going to lose everything and wanted to extract some small measure of revenge before the end.

Amanda would be counting the days until that end.

Lord Ambassador Mandas -- a title which he reminded himself he still held until told otherwise -- straightened his formal cloak for the third time and tried not to pace the length of his office again. He looked at the clock as it ticked off the moments towards the late morning candlemark. Soon, he and Norlan would be summoned before High Minister Erodon to explain the incident of the night before, and on the basis of their testimony their fate would be determined.

Mandas drew in a deep breath to try and calm his churning stomach. He was sure he could salvage his position. All the evidence still pointed at Norlan. Erodon may not have any great love for Mandas, but he loathed Norlan and his treaties Erodon was forced to approve under pressure from the High Lords.

Mandas smirked. That influence was gone now. Norlan would not be able to worm his way out of this one. Mandas just might score that win after all. Surely Norlan would no longer hold his title after this. And yet his smile faded as he remembered Gedric had been allowed to escape. The enormity of the diplomatic blunder had yet to settle in Mandas' mind. Did it really matter when they would believe Norlan was at fault?

Except now he could no longer claim he had known about Norlan's plot and had arrived to stop it. A failed attempt was the same as no attempt in Erodon's eyes. No matter. He would get through this. He would...

"My Lord, you cannot go in there!"

Mandas frowned and spun around.

"My Lord, no, you must--!"

Mandas flinched at the loud crash which cut off his clerk's voice. "What is going on out there?!" he demanded, and started forward.

The door was flung open before he could reach it. Mandas' eyes widened as he stared at Norlan. Just past him, Mandas' clerk lay sprawled on the floor, motionless. One of Norlan's hands was still curled into a fist.

Mandas bolted to the far corner of the office. Just as his fingers clamped around his cane, Norlan grabbed the collar of Mandas' cloak and yanked him back. Mandas gagged as the cloak tie snapped taut against his throat. He tried to lift the cane, but Norlan suddenly shoved Mandas forward. Mandas stumbled and his head hit the wall with a sickening thud.

Mandas grayed out, his legs buckling at the knees, and the cane was whipped out of his hands. Norlan spun him around and pinned him to the wall. He opened his mouth to speak, but all his breath rushed out at once when Norlan rammed the blunt end of the cane into his belly. Mandas tried to double-over, but Norlan jammed the side of the cane against his throat. Mandas coughed and wheezed until Norlan relented slightly.

"S-so this is what you're g-going to do to me now, Norlan?" Mandas croaked. "K-kill me? Add murder to your charges?"

"If murdering you would bring Gedric back, then rest assured, I would do it," Norlan said in a voice like cold steel.

Mandas' eyes shimmered, and he trembled.

"But then you would not be able to give me the one thing which might salvage this diplomatic mission."

Mandas gave Norlan an incredulous stare. "Salvage? It cannot be salvaged! You have already seen to that, and that is what I intend to tell the--"

The pressure on his throat eased, but only because Norlan had let go of one end of the cane to backhand Mandas across the face. Mandas winced from the blow, his cheek red and stinging.

"I do not care what you tell him!" Norlan thundered. "You do not seem to understand something, Mandas. This means the end for both of us. It does not matter what you or I tell the High Minister. He intends to arrest the both of us for treason!"

Mandas' mouth dropped open, his jaw quivering. He started to shake his head.

"He is going to make an example of us before the Oceanus government. He has to."

"I-I am not responsible for this!" Mandas screeched.

"Fine. You keep saying that. Maybe you even believe it. Hellfire, maybe you'll get lucky and make Erodon believe it. I do not care. I want only one thing from you, Mandas, and that is the coordinates of where you sent that merchant ship."

Mandas stared. "I-I have no idea what--"

His head snapped to one side as Norlan backhanded him once more. "Stop it. I know what you did and what you planned. You want that to stay in this room? Fine. Let it stay here. But give me those coordinates."

"Are you mad?!" Mandas screamed, spraying spittle and drops of blood in Norlan's face. "Are you utterly mad?! I g-give you that, and you can just claim it was me all along!"

"You are not listening. It doesn't matter anymore. We are both finished. But there is a difference between losing our titles and being arrested and executed. Or did you forget the penalty for treason? But if I have those coordinates, I can get the Urisi Navy to intercept the ship and bring Gedric back."

Mandas uttered a short, derisive laugh. "Oh, of course, Norlan. I give you those coordinates and you will not claim at all that you got them from me."

Norlan paused, then backed away from the wall. He tossed the cane into the far corner of the room. "No, I will not."

Mandas looked nonplussed. "What?"

"You still don't get it. You still don't understand."

Mandas gave him a bewildered look.

"As much as I was loath to admit it, Mandas, we hold a great deal in common. But there is one crucial difference: I care about the Urisi Nation."

Mandas looked as if he wanted to protest, but instead gave Norlan a cold look and rubbed his sore cheek.

"That's all I care about now. Give me the coordinates, and I will claim the plot you fabricated is true. Yes, that's right. I'm willing to accept the blame. Maybe you can take that small victory, for all the good it will do you. Because the alternative is making an enemy out of the most powerful nation on Narlass."

"S-surely you cannot claim Oceanus would ... would go to war over something as--"

"Get this through your head, Mandas: The Distant East controls Oceanus. If they make a similar advance towards our eastward holdings, they will surround us. Until we can find a way to defend ourselves, we have to placate them. And that is what you have wrecked with your stupid schemes for personal glory."

Mandas tried to maintain a hard gaze, but the hand which now sought to straighten his hair shook too much to do the job properly. "This ... none of this would ... that ... that slave girl..."

"For once, stop blaming everyone else," Norlan said in a tired voice. "This is not about a slave girl. Had you never approached her, none of this would have happened. Do you want me to beg, Mandas? You want that satisfaction? Fine. I'm begging. I beg of you to give me those coordinates."

Mandas swallowed, and his dry throat clicked. He let out a slow, rattling sigh and nodded. "I'll give them to you."

Norlan stepped into the outer chamber to fetch a quill and parchment. Mandas eyed his cane but felt neither the energy nor the motivation to reach for it. When Norlan returned, Mandas hesitated, then recited the coordinates.

Norlan let out a relieved sigh as he rolled up the scroll. "Thank you."

"But make no mistake, Norlan," Mandas said, his voice still quaking, the admonishing finger he raised still trembling. "Do not try to pin it on me! It will be your handwriting on that parchment, not mine!"

Norlan gave Mandas a level look. "I cannot say exactly what will happen when we appear before Erodon. Most likely I will never be an Ambassador again. Perhaps you will emerge on top as you wanted. But know this, Mandas: no matter what, this..." He held up the scroll. " ... proves I was a far better Ambassador than you will ever be."

He left the office, leaving a shocked look on Mandas' face in his wake.

Gedric had guessed right that Riddon and his crew would be put out enough by the loss of their slave girl that he would not be allowed to spend the voyage in the relative comfort of his room. They put him to work at the crack of dawn, and by the time the sun rose high in the eastern skies, Gedric had stripped down to his waist, perspiration glistening on his torso and running down his face.

He took much taunting at the fairness of his skin, but he voiced not a word of complaint. He ached from toil he had not done since he was a simple sailor himself, but he refused no task and requested no breaks. Finally, Riddon slapped him on the shoulder and gestured. "Knock off and come over here."

Gedric put down the rigging he was helping to replace and sat on a box among the other men. A goblet of water was thrust into his hands. He nodded his thanks and drank it down.

"Gotta 'dmit," Riddon drawled as he raised his tankard. "Ya took ta some honest work real good."

"This is not much different from what I did when I first joined the Imperial Navy," said Gedric. "I'm glad to be of help."

Some of the men of Riddon's crew, also bare-chested and sweating, exchanged looks. "Huh," said Riddon. "Imperial Navy of Oceanus?"

"Yes."

"Betcha went after people like us sumtimes, huh?"

Gedric was aware of the wary gazes now trained upon him. "I did pirate duty. You are no pirates."

Riddon nodded, and this seemed to satisfy the others. "'sright, we're not. Jus' tryin' ta make a livin', ya know?"

"It was a fair transaction. I have no quarrels with it."

"Well, ta be honest, I still got some, ah, quarrels as ya put it. Fact, I hope ta make up a little fer what we lost when we meet up with the other ship."

"And how long do you expect it will be until we reach the point where you supposedly are meeting this other ship?"

"Three days, if the winds hold, since we're down ta the last of our Mage Wind jars." Riddon brought the tankard to his lips, paused, then set it down. He frowned at Gedric. "What in hellfire didja mean 'suppos'dly?'"

Gedric silently chided himself for his slip of the tongue. He knew he needed to address this point, and he had hoped it would wait until he had a chance to prove he could be a good addition to their crew. "It would take a long time to explain, but the gist of it is that your services were requested as part of a political plot. There may be no actual pickup at this rendezvous."