Blinded by the Sun (Erythleh Chronicles Book 4) (9 page)

"I think she'll be trouble."

"She'll be perfect."

Kavrazel couldn't help but smile at Shinu's confidence. They wandered through the rows, but he allowed his mind to wander and left Shinu to make any investigations and decisions he required. The room began to fill with more buyers. There were others like the merchant, with greedy hands and lingering eyes, but the crowd was developing a mix. Some of the newcomers were more ordinary folk, the everyday people of the city. The buyers were still mostly male, but some appeared to have brought their wives to assist in their choices. Kavrazel was relieved and gratified to see that the majority of the common folk seemed as disgusted as he was.

There was a commotion as the auctioneer scrambled atop his hastily constructed podium of wooden crates. The man, clad in ill-fitting formal wear, was still chewing the remnants of his breakfast. The other prospective buyers began to gravitate towards the stage, and straightened their spines and their clothing as they walked. Kavrazel could see them patting their pockets, and guessed that they were wondering if the attendance of the monarch was about to push up the prices that they had been expecting.

The auction began like a well rehearsed dance. The auctioneer's speedy patter was an almost incomprehensible shout until Kavrazel was able to latch onto the rhythm of his words in association with the actions of the crowd. He let Shinu handle all the bidding, until it came to Lot Seventeen.

He waited until several people had bid; it seemed as though the auctioneer had expected the king to make an offer, and there was a palpable sense of disappointment that neither he or Shinu had raised their hand. Kavrazel let them call out the final tally twice, and then asserted that he would make a bid. A sigh of relief, or perhaps renewed tension, seethed through the room, and the bidding began again. The auctioneer called out the new bids, pointing at the people in the crowd who made the offers. Kavrazel realised that the competition was serious, that his status did not matter at all. He was simply one of the rabble. If he wanted to make a purchase, he would have to fight as the rest did. He glanced at Shinu, and received a knowing and condescending look in return.

Kavrazel hadn't thought that he was so invested in the woman, until the bidding began to progress to the point of ridiculousness. The thought of anyone drinking her blood, of them sucking greedily at that golden skin, was not as horrific as the thought of all the brutality that they might use to break the defiant spirit that was still so evident behind the potions that clouded her brilliant eyes.

The contest had reached an impasse; only one other was trying to bid against him. When he risked a glance, deferring his attention from the auctioneer, Kavrazel saw his opponent was the merchant he had called out for fondling the blonde slave. The man was surely crazed. Kavrazel would not be beaten when it came to the woman with the green eyes, and he would be damned to Taan's eternal fire before he'd let the man win the auction for the blonde slave, either. He would walk out with every slave in the damn room before he would let that happen. He wasn't sure what authority gave the merchant enough confidence to think he could counter the monarch of the country, but the man was wrong.

"Five thousand sovells!" Kavrazel's words stilled even the air in the room. A complete blanket of silence descended over the gathering. Such a sum being offered for a blood slave had never been heard of. He took advantage of the absolute absence of noise. "And a hundred thousand for all the rest."

The silence that fell on the room was thick and heavy.

The auctioneer coughed and stammered. "Some have already been sold, Majesty."

Evidently the scruff of a man atop the tumble of crates thought the king had lost his mind.

"I am aware of that, and those buyers will receive recompense. These wretches are to live in our country, hopefully for many years. Such a pitiful start to their new lives cannot possibly persuade them of any degree of civility in our culture. It will not continue. We are not animals."

The initial wave of muttering had a cast of dissent, and Kavrazel had no doubt that it was the dissatisfied voices of the traders, but it was swiftly drowned out by a wave of stamping and clapping. Kavrazel looked about; for every scowling trader, there were more than a handful of ordinary men and women applauding his stance. The slaves simply looked wary, as well they might. Kavrazel sought out the green-eyed woman; she was still slumped over her crutch, mostly ignorant of everything around her.

"The markets are suspended," Kavrazel called out. There were angry shouts of disagreement, but the room fell quiet when he held up his hand. "They will be reinstated when I receive assurance that standards have improved, and not before. We take the blood of these slaves in Taan's name. We will give the vessels of that honour the respect they deserve. If you cannot comply, you risk Taan's wrath as well as mine."

His proclamation made, Kavrazel left the building, unwilling to spend a moment longer than absolutely necessary in the midst of so much miserable suffering. He made his way through the crowd as the majority renewed their applause and shouts of encouragement and agreement. He waited in the fresh air, a few steps beyond the main doors of the building, whilst Shinu completed the arrangements for the purchase for a complete market of slaves.

When the Blood Father emerged from the building, he was laughing and shaking his head. Kavrazel couldn't help but smile in response to Shinu's good humour.

"The giants aren't enough to deal with," Shinu chuckled slyly.

Kavrazel gestured at the building. "They think themselves kings. They are wrong. They bring this country into disrepute, and it will not stand. No wonder the Felthissians constantly seek to show us the error of our ways. I will not see my entire nation constantly endangered because a handful of men cannot control their pricks, or their sadistic urges."

"You seek to change their nature?"

"Yes. They will have one chance to act in a manner befitting a native of this country. If they continue to act as degenerates, I will assume that they are making a personal challenge against my royal authority, and they will be executed for treason."

"Some may see that as perhaps a little extreme, Sire," Shinu commented.

"You disagree?" Kavrazel asked. He was surprised at Shinu's censure. The Blood Father had been responsible for the psychological and physical repair of numerous slaves thanks to the mistreatment they had suffered before being bought. He saw that Shinu was shaking his head.

"Not one bit, Sire. I hope you make their deaths appropriately agonising."

"I will," Kavrazel promised grimly. "I will."

Chapter Nine

She wasn't safe. She was about to fall. She was teetering on a precipice. So close. So close...

Lyssia shot upright, her eyes opening wide in an instant. She gasped as the sudden movement jarred her leg. Someone was sitting in front of her, watching her. She screamed and pushed herself backwards, away from the stranger, until her back hit something solid and wooden. She wrapped her arms over her chest, expecting to still be naked, and found that she had been dressed in some kind of cotton shift. Her lower body was covered by blankets.

She vaguely remembered the auction house. The commotion of the sales had been too much for her addled mind to fully comprehend. Most of the day had been filled with the nagging pain of being forced to put weight on her injured leg for so long. The rest had been filled with mortifying shame at being paraded in a basically naked state, and at being lecherously gawped at by fat old men. That she was under covers, and apparently clothed, was not how she had expected to awaken. That she was not alone in the room heralded the realisation of every fear that she had been trying to beat down since the night she had been kidnapped.

The stranger hadn't moved. Her eyes darted around the room, looking for a weapon. There was nothing. The thickly padded pallet she was on was raised from the ground. That subconscious sense of height was what had caused her to wake.

The stranger, the man, still did not move. His eyes, so blue they were almost white, were fixed on her. His features were dour, his mouth set in a grim line, but it did not feel as though he was angry. As he continued to remain calm and still, she began to believe that all was not as she had feared it might be. As her heart began to resume a calmer rhythm, he gave her a small smile.

"How are you feeling?"

Lyssia tried to make sense of her body through the remnants of her deep sleep. She wasn't sure that she wanted to speak to him. She knew that she didn't trust him, and yet - if he was going to attack her - he needn't have waited for her to wake up. It took several attempts to be able to speak.

"I'm thirsty."

The man moved, but very slowly, as though he expected any action to startle her. She couldn't help but flinch as he shifted, but then held herself utterly still, and watched him. He rose and crossed the room to a small table. The room was dim. She had no idea whether it was night or day. Heavy drapes obscured what was probably a window. Only one candle flickered, and that was placed some distance from the bed. She couldn't see what was on the table, the shapes were blurred by the shadows, until the man brought the items closer to the bed. There was a jug, a cup, and a plate of food. Her stomach grumbled in anticipation of sustenance. Her mind rebelled and tried to quell her hunger, remembering the drugged apple.

Evidently the man had expected her conflict. "You can eat in safety. The food is not drugged."

"On your word," she creaked out.

"On my honour." He poured liquid from the jug into the cup and handed it to her.

There was no scent to the contents. Her throat was so parched that it was raw. She took a tiny, experimental sip. Water. Fresh water. If it was drugged, the potion had no taste. She tried not to gulp the water down, knowing that she needed to drink it slowly, or risk vomiting it all back up again. When she had finished drinking, she waited. Nothing. Her vision remained steady. Her mind remained clear. She held the cup out in a silent request for it to be refilled.

The man took it, and his smile widened. "I am Shinu."

Lyssia took the newly filled cup back and sipped at it. "My name is Lyssia."

"Do you know where you are?"

She shook her head. Shinu cut a piece of cheese from the richly yellow block on the plate and offered it to her. Lyssia took it and nibbled at it. It was strong and tangy and made her mouth water for more.

"You are in Vulc." She nodded at that. She remembered she was in the capital of the country. "You are in the royal palace."

She had hazy memories of a man at the auction, tall and lean, looking into her eyes as if trying to see into her mind. She remembered the aura of deference that had surrounded him, and she remembered now that this man before her was not a stranger. He had been at the auction, too. She flushed as she realised that for all that she was covered now, he had seen her naked body.

"You remember me?"

She nodded. She had a thousand questions and no words.

"The king purchased you, and the others. You are safe here."

"You're not the king." She wanted confirmation, but she knew he wasn't the monarch of the country. The man who had tried to see into her, through her, the man with the red-gold hair and intense blue eyes, that man was the king, she was sure.

"No. I am the Blood Father here." She flinched at the term, and everything it implied. "I look after the blood slaves for the castle. There are... were, eighty. There are more now." He smiled, enjoying his private joke. "Many more. It is up to you how you consider me, but know that I am here to help you, to guide you. Our household runs so much more smoothly when everyone is happy."

"Then send me home. I will be happy when I return home."

Shinu gave her a rueful grin. "That is not so much of an option."

"What am I here?" She knew that the slavers captured people to provide blood for the Vuthroan rituals. She did not know if that was the only duty that would be required of her.

"You are here to provide blood, nothing more. The intention is that you will provide for the king."

"And who else?"

"Only him. He does not share his blood."

But it wasn't the king's blood. It was hers, it ran through her body. Except that her body was now owned by the king, so in theory her blood was his. The circular and despondent argument filled her with a profound sense of defeat.

"That is supposed to be an honour?"

"If we think you can be trusted with it. Usually we would chose someone with a more... placid temperament."

"You know nothing about my temperament," Lyssia snapped.

Shinu cocked an eyebrow, and Lyssia realised she had perfectly demonstrated his point for him.

"Where are you from, Lyssia?"

"Sken."

"Ahhh, that is why Seff lied."

Shinu chuckled, but Lyssia wasn't sure where the humour was in the situation. She said as much. "That amuses you?"

"That we have chosen a fighter, one of those militantly opposed to the blood trade - who actively tries to disrupt it - to serve the king, to occupy such a trusted and honoured position? Yes, I see some irony in that."

She accepted a slice of white meat that Shinu offered her, and discovered that it was chicken. She chewed and swallowed. "So send me home. I'm more trouble than I'm worth."

"Oh no. I think we'll keep you. I think you'll be perfect. How is your leg feeling?"

The change in conversation momentarily confounded her from musing as to how she could possibly be ideal for such a duty. "Weak, and it aches." In truth she had a dire fear that she would never walk unaided again.

"It is somewhat withered."

Lyssia flushed again as she realised that Shinu must have dressed her. Then the comprehension hit that her skin was no longer slick with oil, he must have washed her as well. She shifted uncomfortably, wishing that the world would split in two and swallow her whole. She placed her hand on her stomach as the food and water rolled in reaction to her humiliation.

"Shhh," Shinu soothed. "Only women have tended to you here, but I needed to see your leg to know how we must treat you. I believe the bone is healed, but you must begin to use it again to strengthen it."

There were no bindings on the limb that she could feel. She flexed her toes beneath the weight of the blanket. They responded, but she felt the ache of the effort from her ankle to her hip.

"I can't put any weight on it."

"We'll give you a crutch. Girogis will help you rebuild the muscles."

"And he is?"

"The king's bodyguard."

"And he will neglect that duty to waste his time on me?"

"No, there are times he is not needed by the king's side, and those times are spent on other duties. You will become one of those duties. And it is not a waste. I think you will be worth the effort.

"You seem very sure of me."

"It is my job to see such qualities, to guide and to nurture. You should give up all thoughts of returning home. Attempts to run would be ill advised. If you stay, you will be comfortable and cared for. You may be asked to undertake some other duties around the castle but nothing particularly onerous, I can assure you. In return, we ask only that you learn to behave as you should, and that you allow the king to take what he needs from you."

"My blood."

"Yes, your blood. Only your blood."

"I should give up fighting?"

"I can see why that would be a hard concept to accept. How many years have you spent in Sken?"

"Fifteen. Half my life." She didn't want to reveal information about herself, such knowledge was the only possession, the only scrap of anything personal that she had left, but she wanted Shinu to know the magnitude of what he was asking her.

"Ahhhhh." He nodded. She could see he understood that he was asking someone who had devoted their life to fighting to simply surrender, and that such a thing was not at all possible.

"What could happen to me, if I tried to leave?"

"In all honesty, most likely, if you show defiance Girogis will simply kill you. You are to occupy a position that comes with a great degree of responsibility. You will have access to the king, a level of which is enjoyed by only his closest and most trusted associates, moreso perhaps. If Girogis thinks you will be a danger to his monarch, he will not try to educate you, he will remove you. You needn't fear torture here, but you should respect the possibility of death."

"Why me? From everything you've said it sounds as though I should be the last person considered for this honour." She tried and failed not to sneer on the last word.

"As I told you, it my role to see potential, and I see potential in you." Shinu slid the tray of food closer to her and stood. "And besides, the king chose you." He went to the door, but paused and turned before he opened it.

"Eat. Drink. Rest. For the next day or so you will be allowed to gather your strength and settle, then Girogis will come for you. Someone will be along tomorrow morning with water for washing and clothes for you. If you feel able, you can dress."

"Will I be able to leave this room?"

"No, not yet."

"And what am I supposed to do, all alone without distraction? My only occupation will be to plot my escape."

Shinu smiled, and for a moment, Lyssia could see the spine of steel at the core of the gentle father figure. "As I said, recuperate. And ponder on your fortune that you are not dead, and that your situation could be much, much worse. You might wish to consider that the king bought all the slaves at that auction, because he was sickened by what he saw there, not because we need so many bodies. You might wish to consider that he is vehemently opposed to the brutality that has become the hallmark of the trade. You might wish to consider the image projected to all of Vuthron if you become the model blood slave. By showing this country that a slave does not need to be to punished to gain their cooperation, that they do not need to be broken to be assimilated to our culture, you will be doing more for your brethren across the sea than you would by forcing Girogis to remove your head."