Centyr Dominance (11 page)

But could she?

Of course you can,
said
one of her new selves. With the thought came an instinctive act of will, and a
second later there were ten more of her, each taking control of one of the
remaining guardsmen. Moira felt a rising sense of exaltation as her mind
expanded. She was no longer bound by the rules of a single mind, she was
more.

Even the gods could not do this.
She
could hear laughter and then she was startled to realize it was her own.
Behind her, the prisoners were fighting with the gate guards, and losing.
Turning, she began to run toward the gate, and her new puppets followed behind
her.

Her companions grew frightened, alarmed by the guards who
came with her, not understanding that they were now allies as well. Since
there was no time to explain she took them as well, and seconds after that she
took the gate guards too. The portcullis began to rise once more, and the
fighting had stopped. Moira only had one question now.
How many am I?
It
was an odd question, but it made perfect sense in that moment.

It took a couple of minutes to finish counting and
find the answer.
I am forty-seven people.

The number boggled her. It was incomprehensible. No
mind could do that many things at once. It beggared belief, and yet she felt
no strain. The amount of aythar required to do it was still small, and her
primary personality was still free to oversee all her other selves.
I
should be going insane. Why am I still sane?

She wanted to panic. None of it made sense. Moira
needed to think, she needed solitude, but she felt as though she were
surrounded by a crowd of people.
Correction, a crowd of me…

Time to simplify.
Moira
sent the guards marching back to the barracks. She would release them once
they were too far away to catch up. At the same time she set the parts of her
that were controlling her prison companions to editing their memories.
Don’t
let them remember the escape, they’d never forgive me for doing that to them,
she
commanded.

She and her companions marched into the city, with
Stretch following close behind them. After a few blocks her other selves had
finished their work, and she released the men who had escaped with her. Soon
after that, she released the guards in the barracks, and then her smaller
selves began to collapse, falling into one another and becoming a single mind
once more, but it still was not
her
mind.

Who are you?
She
asked her other self.

I am you, but I think it’s going to take
some time to figure out what all of this means.

You don’t know?

I know what you know.

I don’t know a damn thing!

Excellent, so now you’re twice as
ignorant.

That isn’t funny.

Yes it is.

Yeah, you’re right. I think I’m going
mad.

You mean, ‘we’ are going mad.

“Are you alright?” That was Wat. He was staring at
her with a worried look on his face.

“Yes, why?” answered Moira rather hurriedly.

“You were just standing there staring into empty air
and mumbling,” he replied. “Some of the other men have left.”

Their group was considerably smaller than it had
been. There were only two other men with her now, along with Wat and of
course, Stretch. “I’m sorry,” she told him. “We need a place to hide. I was
trying to think of where we could go.”

Wat grinned, “I think I know a place. Follow me.” He
glanced at the other two, “There’s room for you two as well, if you want to
come.”

Chad had gotten away. That was his only consolation.

Gram was standing in the street now with Alyssa beside
him. The last hour had been one of the most bizarre and terrifying of his
life. Locked in his own body, he had watched himself walking the streets
searching for someone, he assumed it was Chad, but he hadn’t really been given
any definite information. It didn’t matter, he had merely been a passenger.

Watching his body betray him had been a surreal
experience. He imagined it was something like what warriors paralyzed on the
battlefield must experience, with one notable difference, while they also lost
the ability to control their limbs, they weren’t forced to watch themselves
move and act while being controlled by some bizarre external force.

He couldn’t even be sure if it
was
an external
agent controlling him. Something had definitely lodged itself within his neck,
and it was obvious that it was the means of his internal imprisonment, but he
didn’t know whether
it
was the real authority or whether it was merely
taking commands from someone or something else.

There was certainly some sort of coordination taking
place, though. Alyssa was close by, and now and then he was able to catch a
glimpse of her eyes. He could see no hint of what might be going on behind
them, but he guessed that she was suffering in the same helpless way that he
was.

His mouth tasted of blood. Whatever it was, it had
cut his tongue on its way in, and he could only imagine what it might have done
to the back of his throat. The pain there was minimal, but a steady burning
sensation was a sure sign that it had done him some harm farther back.

And then, just as suddenly as it had begun, it was
over, and his body was his own again.

Gram began to tremble and his hands went immediately
to his mouth. He had to get it out!

A warm hand landed atop his, pulling it gently away
from his face, “Don’t. It won’t help, and if you try too hard you’ll be
punished.” The expression on her face was tired, weary, and devoid of hope,
but there was something more. Sorrow.

He seized her hands in his own, “What’s happening to
me, to us?!”

Alyssa’s eyes darted sideways, a hint of alarm on her
features, before coming back to rest on his own, “Don’t speak. If you ask
certain things, if you say certain things, or try to—you’ll lose control. Let
me talk for a while.” She tugged at his arm, walking back in the direction
they had come. “Follow me.”

He let her lead him, “Where are we going?”

“To my home.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s private, not that that word really applies
to us anymore,” she said flatly. After a second she added, “…and because I’m
selfish.”

Selfish?
That
puzzled him for a moment, but he couldn’t afford to think about it too long.
“I can’t. I have to find Chad. I have to warn M…mmph!”

“Stop!” said Alyssa urgently, clapping her hands over
his lips, her eyes desperate with warning. “Whatever you came to do, don’t
talk about it, don’t even thin…” Her words cut off abruptly as her eyes rolled
back in her head and her body began to twitch.

He caught her as she started to fall, but as suddenly
as it began, her seizure ended. Alyssa’s eyes came back into focus and locked
on his own. Pain and resignation were written on her face. Her lip trembled
faintly and without thinking about it he lifted her, cradling her in his arms.

“It’s alright. I can walk now,” she told him.

Gram blinked, hard. “Let me do this,” he answered.
“Which way do we go now?”

“People are going to stare.”

He started to laugh, but the action brought a sharp
pain from his damaged throat, “Does it matter? How many of them are…?” He
stopped, unsure how to phrase his question.

Alyssa leaned her head against his chest, “Fewer than
you might think, for now at least. Straight down the street, then take a left
when you pass the Drunken Goat.”

“Drunken Goat?”

“It’s a tavern,” she explained.

He nodded and began walking. She was lighter than he
remembered, but the last time he had carried her had been before he took the
dragon-bond, so he couldn’t be sure. Despite her slight figure, her body was
still solid. She carried an impressive amount of muscle beneath the smooth
fabric of her dress. Gram’s mind recalled the details of her body all too
well.

Alyssa remained silent as they progressed down the
street, keeping her cheek against his broad chest. She felt like a child in
his arms, an unusual sensation for her, but she was beyond caring. She looked
up as he turned at the tavern, pointing at a nondescript doorway, “Over there,
that’s my door. You’ll have to put me down to open it.”

Gram ignored her advice, bending his knees slightly as
he reached the door, to put one hand close to the handle. With hardly a bobble
he tripped the latch and used his foot to push the door back before stepping
inside. A quick turn and his foot closed the door behind them.

“Now what? You can’t carry me forever,” she informed
him.

“Try me,” he replied. It wasn’t the worst thing he
could imagine. His eyes took in the dim room. Light entered from a small window
to the right of the door showing him a small bed near the far wall and a rough
table in the center of the room. A wooden chair and a heavy trunk completed
the room’s spare furnishings. “Quaint,” he pronounced, hearing his mother’s
voice as he said the word.

“I know it’s meagre compared to what you’re used to…”
said Alyssa, embarrassment in her voice.

Gram tried to laugh once more, but the pain in his
throat cut that short once again. “Damn that hurts,” he told her as he set her
on her feet.

Moving to one side, she lifted a pitcher and a small
cup from the table, “Have some water. It will help a little.”

He finished it in a single, long swallow, “Do you have
anything stronger?” For the first time in his life, he felt a positive need
for alcohol. The events of the day had left his nerves raw and frazzled.

“I can’t afford it,” she admitted. “Besides, it would
burn like fire. The wound in your throat will take a few days to heal.”

That made sense, now that he thought about it. A
million other questions ran through his mind immediately after, but he took his
time choosing one, “How long…?”

She lifted her hand to her own throat, “A week ago,
just after I asked to be released from the Earl’s service. As soon as I was
recovered enough to walk on my own…”

“Your wounds,” he interrupted, “let me see.”

The dress she wore was of a single piece. Without the
slightest hesitation Alyssa stood and lifted it overhead. She was naked
beneath it.

Gram had seen her bare form many times, but he still
blushed at the sight of her flesh. Putting that aside, he examined her ribs. A
red puffy scar marked the place where one arrow had pierced her. A similar
mark showed next to one of her shoulder blades, but both appeared to be healing
well. “Obviously you didn’t stitch these,” he remarked.

Alyssa smiled, “The men who carried me would not have
received your grandmother’s approval, but they kept me alive.”

“That’s more than I could do,” he said bitterly.

“Shhh,” she rebuked him, putting a finger across his
lips. “This was not your fault. It was T’Lar’s and mine. I betrayed you and
your trust. I should have died for that. This is far better than I deserve.”

“I have forgiven that already,” he said quickly, “and
you redeemed yourself when you saved Irene.”

“That is not enough,” said Alyssa, looking at the
ground.

“Then you will have to live your life making it up to
me,” he growled, pulling her closer. She lifted her lips toward his, but the
recent memory of their last kiss made him turn his head aside.

Her eyes registered disappointment.

“What happened before…,” he began.

“That won’t happen again,” she told him. “Now that
they have you, I doubt they care what we do.”

“What was it? I don’t understand.”

“None of us do,” she admitted. “We aren’t allowed to
talk about it. You saw what happened to me a while ago.”

“Aren’t the questions driving you mad?”

“Yes, and until I saw you I had given in to despair.
I had thought to put myself out of this misery, but even that is not allowed.
I am ashamed of my joy at seeing you, for now you are trapped with me.”

In spite of himself, he found his hands tracing lines
along the curve of her back. “There are worse things,” he told her.

“No,” she said, “I don’t think so.”

“Then let me help you forget for a little while.”

They made love then, with a desperate urgency that
only those without hope could understand, and after they had finished they lay quietly
on her small bed in the darkened room. Gram stroked her hair and tried to
pretend that the events of the past day hadn’t happened, even though he knew he
couldn’t forget.

As the sun dropped lower and dusk fell Alyssa rose
from his side, “I have to go to work.”

“Work?”

“I wait tables at the Drunken Goat. Bran rents me
this room in exchange for that,” she explained. “We commoners have to work, or
we don’t eat.”

Gram felt a hot knot of jealousy in his chest as
another question rose within him, “Is he the one?”

She frowned, “The one what?”

“The one you kissed.”

“What?!”

“Don’t play dumb. You must have kissed someone. Otherwise
how did you get this?” He pointed at his neck.

Her eyes narrowed angrily. “Oh, you stupid, stupid
man! You think I came back to Dunbar and found a lover, even before my wounds
were fully healed?”

Gram shrugged, “Not exactly, but you could have had
one before you knew me…”

“No,” she said flatly. “I did only as my master
commanded. I had no lovers, only targets. I had no life before I met you.
‘Jasmine’ was a slave. My existence was blind obedience. You ended that when
you killed T’Lar.”

“Then how did…?”

“One of the physicians, after I was brought back to
Halam,” she explained. “I was barely conscious when he forced my jaws open and
dropped it in my mouth.”

“Oh.”

An awkward silence ensued, until eventually Gram spoke
once more, “I didn’t mean to imply…”

Alyssa put a finger over his lips, “Yes, your thought
irritated me, but I have no right to expect you to trust me, not after all that
I have done. You should not apologize.” She stood and began dressing.

“What do I do while you are gone? I need to find my
friends.”

“You cannot,” she cautioned. “You are a danger to
them now. Anything you do will only make things worse, for them as well as for
yourself.”

He grimaced, “I can’t accept this.”

“Slavery isn’t about acceptance, it’s about survival.”
She turned away and stepped through the door, glancing back once. “I’ll be
back when the tavern closes. Please be here.” Her eyes were silently
pleading, and then she was gone.