Slavemaster's Woman, The (23 page)

Again, they both became quiet, Tarken with
his own thoughts, and Cushla with hers, though her thoughts were
focused mainly on wondering what his might be and why he was
suddenly so kind after attempting to punish her. She looked up at
Tarken and found him studying her.

Finally, he spoke. “I was concerned about
your reaction this afternoon. I have never seen a slave react so
violently to being bound. Why did you react as such?”

“You worried about me?”

“I did, yes. What happened on the ship,
Cushla?”

“It was nothing.” She disregarded his
question with a shrug.

“It was something, Cushla.” Tarken opened
his palm to her. “Come up here and sit with me. I want to see your
face.”

She refused his hand and stood of her own
accord. Taking the seat opposite him at the table, she averted her
gaze from him and instead took great interest in watching the
butterflies, fluttering about and the birds chirping overhead.

“You seem to have an affinity for the
creatures.”

Without looking at the slavemaster, Cushla
held out her palm, and as she did a tiny Oraw bird landed in her
hand. Smiling, she stroked its tiny back, caressing its fluffy
lavender feathers. It danced about, pecking gently at her fingers
before flying off again. “They are free,” she finally responded to
his remark while watching the bird disappear through the trees.
“Free to view the world at its own pace and from its own distance.
Free to choose where it travels to, with whom it travels, and where
it desires to settle.”

“Free like the Libertas?”

“The Libertas is a fairytale meant to coerce
children into behaving.”

“Quite the horror stories from what I hear,”
Tarken replied. “Mind your manners or the Libertas will peck your
eyes out.”

At first, Cushla bowed her head to hide the
smirk that was forming on her lips. Then, she felt unwilling to
express submissiveness and raised her gaze to boldly look Tarken
directly in the eyes, her smirk remaining visible. “Perhaps there
are other body parts the Libertas is capable of snapping off.”

Tarken chuckled at her comment. “It is said
in the legend that he who possesses the Libertas holds its
power.”

Cushla’s smirk faded quickly and a deep
sadness wrenched through her. “To fetter one, kills its spirit, the
beauty in its natural form smothered,” she returned quietly.

“Like you, mistress?” Tarken slid one of the
glasses toward her, and took another sip from his own glass, his
grin fading as well, his expression strained as if he too felt her
pain. “Drink, Cushla. It will help.”

She obeyed and took a small taste. The
fruity blend was cool and flavorful. “Help what?”

“The added nutrients will help you feel
better.”

“Feel better?” Her subtle laugh was
sardonic. “Your high hopes are well misplaced, master.”

“Tell me what happened to you,” Tarken
requested of her, his voice gentle and seemingly sincere.

Did he really even care?
“It is
nothing more than most slaves endure. What doesn’t kill us gives us
strength of will, true?”

“To endure such unpleasant things over and
over again?”

This time, Cushla laughed loudly,
scornfully. “Mere unpleasantness is tolerable, Tarken. Are you that
witless about the plights of those you command?”

“Talk to me mistress, so that I might
understand.”

At first, she merely stared at him. Picking
up her drink, she took a gulp and swallowed hard. Placing the glass
on the table her eyes narrowed briefly, anger taking hold but it
vanished quickly. Anger clouded judgment and if there was one thing
Cushla always strived to retain was her ability to think clearly.
“The memories are vague, Tarken.” She forced herself to be far
removed from the agonies she’d endured, her mind flying far above
what it was trying to pressure into recalling. Her body had a
sudden, incredible urge to follow.

“What do you remember now, mistress?”

Cushla merely shrugged and then shook her
head. Her gaze wandered the perimeter as an array of emotions
stretched through every fiber of her being. No one had ever asked
her about her life and what she’d experienced, no one had ever
cared.
Why Tarken? Why was he so vested in caring?

“Cushla…” There was a tenderness in the way
he said her name.

Her eyes snapped up to meet his gaze and she
could see the deep concern on his handsome face. Maybe she was just
trying to convince herself because she was so truly lonely, that
she so badly wanted to be close to someone and willing to let
herself toss aside her doubts, but Cushla didn’t thinks so. She
believed that Tarken did genuinely care. Something caved inside of
her, something which had been hardened and always firmly in place.
For the first time since she was a little girl, she felt safe.

Sucking in a breath her body stiffened,
bracing against the onslaught of pain that was sure to surface with
what she was about to reveal. She shuddered, and then exhaled
slowly before speaking.

Tarken waited patiently the entire length of
time it took her to begin.

“I suppose he felt I was old enough to
bed…”

“A former owner?”

Cushla nodded at his question. Picking up
her glass, she took another swallow and then set the glass back
onto the table. Releasing her hold on it, she slid both her hands
to the edge of the table gripping it tightly. She said nothing for
several long moments before continuing, “I guess he decided I was
old enough to share with his acquaintances.”

“You were young?” Tarken’s mouth twisted
with dismay.

“Too young.” Cushla closed her eyes. “Too
small…” She couldn’t continue. Instead, she inhaled sharply and the
opened her eyes to look at Tarken, saying nothing further.

“Slave or not, children are to be
cherished,” Tarken remarked. He looked past her as if recalling
thoughts of his own. “I only wish I had done more to cherish my
mine.”

“You have children?” Cushla stared at him in
surprise.

“I had
a
child.”

A child…
Did that mean he also had a
wife? The thought stirred something inside of her, something
unidentifiable, something disturbing. She didn’t want him to have a
wife, to hold love for someone else…“Had?”
Did he say had?
Cushla released her grip on the glass and pressed her palm to her
sternum. Her heart was thumping hard inside of her chest. “What do
you mean by—
had
?”

It was Tarken’s turn to gulp, and this time
it was he who went silent.

“Tarken?”

The slavemaster gazed down to where his hand
rested on the table, Cushla’s palm pressing on top of his. His gaze
lifted and it was then she saw the pain rake through them before he
managed to chain it down, his body stiffening as he seemed to steel
himself, just as she had, against the emotional pain that like her,
he refused to feel.

“My child and his mother are dead.” He said
nothing more.

Cushla knew it wasn’t her place to probe
further. Yet, she was unable to help herself. She had to know. “How
did they die?”

At first, she didn’t think he was going to
reply, he was silent for so long. Then with a deep breath he began
to tell her about the most dark and desperate time of his life. “I
was a commander for the military. Training troops was my job. It
would take me away from home for six moon cycles at a time, and
then I would come home for three and go back out again.”

Cushla lifted a brow.
He trained
sentinels.
That explained a lot.

“We lived on Corida in the Vallis Star
region. It was a nice area, plenty of trees, lush grasses, and
beautiful lakes. The neighborhood we lived in was affluent.” He
stopped speaking for a moment.

Cushla could tell by watching the distant
look in his eyes and the subtle smile on his lips that he was
reminiscing about a pleasant time in his life. He slowly began
again, his chest expanding with his intake of breath, and she
couldn’t help but focus on how masculine his chest was, how it felt
mashed against her breasts.

“The last time I was on leave, my wife,
Sosha was upset with me.”

Pushing her wayward sensual thoughts aside,
Cushla looked up, noticing his expression had changed, his frown
revealing feelings of dismay.

“She’d asked that I give up the military
life and stay home more,” Tarken continued. “She missed me and so
did Okli, our son. We had several arguments over that time. The
last came the dawning I was to report back. It was Okli’s sixth
birthday. Sosha wanted me to stay home and leave the next day. She
had planned a celebration and it would’ve been the first time I
would’ve been home for his birthday since he was three solars old.
Pausing, Tarken closed his eyes. He inhaled slowly through his
nostrils his chest filling, then he exhaled harshly. “She told me
we might as well not be joined because I was never around.”

Tarken opened his eyes, and Cushla’s heart
wrenched at the utter pain she saw in them, a feeling foreign to
her as she rarely held sympathy for those who reigned over her.
Yet, there it was, her heart filling with unbidden compassion for
him. “What happened?”

He peered down to where his hand rested on
the table and balled it into a tight fist. Clearing his throat, he
then lifted his hand to comb his fingers through his hair. “This is
nothing that would interest you, mistress.”

“But it does,” Cushla responded truthfully.
“I do wish to know more of you.”

“Do you?” Tarken angled his head, and pursed
his lips.

“Yes,” she replied softly.

Tarken leaned back in his chair and took
another deep breath. He continued again, his voice becoming more
even, less emotional. “I told Sosha it was because of my work that
we were able to live in such a safe and secure location, that we
could be living on Algaret where it was bleak and barren and crime
was the way to make a living. And then I left.” Tarken grimaced,
his voice becoming strained, and he seemed unable to tamp the utter
grief that crossed his face. “That was the last time I saw my son.”
He shook his head, his frown deepening. He stared beyond her, his
eyes beginning to glisten.

Cushla wondered if she was about to see this
hardened slavemaster shed a tear.

“I didn’t even kiss him goodbye, or wish him
happy birthday.” Tarken swallowed hard. “He had watched us arguing.
He stood in the doorway, clutching the toy starflyer I had given
him for his birthday and watched us scream at each other. My last
memory of him was the broken expression on his face.”

Cushla gulped down the lump in her throat
and sat quietly while blinking her eyes as she realized that she
too, was fighting back tears of her own.

He seemed to gather his thoughts and then
began to convey the rest of his sad tale. “I didn’t commlink her
for many dawnings afterwards, nor did she me.”

“Why?” Cushla asked. “Why did you keep your
silence?”

“Pride—foolish pride. I felt, at first, that
she didn’t appreciate the sacrifices I made to provide for her as I
did. As time went on, I began to see her point of view. She missed
me, as I always did her, and my son was growing up without a
father, or at least with just a part time father. Finally, I tried
to commlink her, but there was no answer. I tried acquaintances,
neighbors, no one was receiving calls. I finally checked the
galactic news reports, and found there had been an epidemic on my
planet. Hell…it began in my region. I turned over the training of
the troops to my second in command, took emergency leave and headed
home.” Tarken took a deep breath and let it out.

Cushla knew of these epidemics, they
happened often on some planets.

“It was so eerie when I entered my
neighborhood. There were no people about, no traffic, nothing. It
was silent and still.” He visibly shuddered. “My house was empty
and cold. Nothing was operating, Sosha and Okli were gone. I
searched the area information system and read what had happened.”
Tarken opened and closed his mouth several times, finally clearing
his throat again before going on. “A mutant virus from the
MilSci…”

“MilSci?” Cushla asked.

“The Military Science Lab, it was three
leagues from where we lived. They had accidently released a virus
and the winds carried it over four regions before it could be
contained. The effects on the citizens were horrible. Great welts
would break out on the skin, and the report said that what happened
on the skin also happened inside the body. These welts would fill
with puss and rupture causing more welts. It was reported the young
and old were affected most greatly by it, and then it would spread
to the healthiest of adults.”Grasping his drink Tarken lifted the
glass to his lips and gulped down the liquid as if was a strong
drink that he needed to settle his nerves.

Cushla stared at him and she wasn’t even
sure if he knew she was there anymore.

He set the glass down hard, his hand
remaining firmly around it.

Cushla reached across the table and took his
hand, removing it from the glass as she curled fingers around his
palm, hoping to give him some comfort. She now regretted her
curiosity. The raw emotion that played on his features was tearing
her heart out. She was about to tell him to go no further with the
story.

Then, he started speaking again, “I checked
the closest health complex and found that Sosha was still alive. I
rushed over there to see her. I spoke to the medics on her
condition and they told me she’d survived longer than expected but
wouldn’t last much longer. I asked about my son. Okli had died
early on in the epidemic. I wanted to know where he was buried and
was told that all those who’d died of this virus were incinerated
to keep it from spreading.” Unknowingly, Tarken squeezed Cushla’s
hand.