Elaine turns in her sleep and wakes in pain. The
cold of the stone floor has crept through the carpet, and gripped
her hips and shoulders like the hands of death, turning her flesh
to ice. She gasps, and strains against her bonds, not to break
free, or loosen them, only to work her muscles and push her blood
though the chilled flesh. She stops when she begins to sweat,
breathing in deep breaths of icy air, hoping she’ll pass
out again.
They took the others, the ones now in the cages to the exercise
rooms after the questioning. She could hear them scream as whips
crack on them. She let her mind follow them when the left, and
watched as they ran around in circles, like horses, lifting
their knees to prance, and whipped when they slowed down.
The guards unwrapped her, let her wash herself quickly, let
her eat a small roll of bread, drink a tin of water, and then
wrapped her up again. The efficiency of the process was frightening.
These men knew this trade, knew where pain was, and how long
to keep her on the floor before damage occurred. She couldn’t
imagine that kind of skill came from a few weeks of training.
This happened all the time. Captives were brought here and shipped
out to slavers. Only she would not be shipped out, she would
be killed. That’s why she was on the floor, and the others
were in the cages.
She came to this land to find her father, and now, before she
ever met him she would be killed because of who he was. That
was what the Commander had said, but she knew now there was
some question. It was clear before, but not so clear now. Her
mind wandered around the building, watching guards come and
go. She watched orders being given, and saw looks of concern
when they talked about her. Something wasn’t happening
like it should.
The Commander thought it should be routine, like everything
else in this building was routine. Timetables and schedules
were laid out months in advance. Guard assignments were known
for weeks at a time. The machine marched on, and cogs fit or
cogs were replaced. The Commander filled out the proper report
and sent it to the proper source and expected back the proper
response, but that didn’t happen. He was sent back an
order, but not the one he expected, or even one that fell into
the list of expected responses.
So they didn’t know what to do with her. They were not
setup to keep the captives for long periods of time. The others
would be sent out in the morning. Sent to ships that lay in
the harbor, ships that came in with the fog. All of them were
elves or half-elves, who “offended by being”. The
Commander didn’t see her as a person, he saw her as a
line item in his records, but now she was not a line item. The
proper set of boxes were not in his journal for her. This upset
him.
Warmer now she thought about home. It was not the first time,
but it was the first time that pain didn’t come from the
memory of home. She missed her mother. The last memory of her
crying as the village people threw stones, forcing her to run
into the forest. Threats of death if she returned. The curses,
the angry words. Her mother’s tears, her voice calling
through all of the anger, “Find your father!”
It was a year since that day. Her sorcery blossomed with her
breasts, and grew with them as well, and just like her breasts
she could not hide its existence. She did no damage to anyone,
no physical damage, but occasionally she could hear thoughts,
and ideas, and she knew where things were sometimes, or what
was going to happen the next day. She thought she could hide
it, but there were times it just showed up, and her mind would
take off and wander around, through the past, and into the tomorrow
days. When her mind wandered, her eyes turned white, her mother
told her, after finding her in her room, lying on the bed. She
thought Elaine was dead, and ran to her. She warned Elaine not
to tell her step-father, not to tell anyone. The people of her
village would not understand. They would not let her stay. They
were simple folk, with simple ways.
Elaine could not control the wanderings though, and soon she
was found, eyes white as death eyes. She was slapped awake by
her step father, and someone yelled “Witch’, and
someone else yelled “Sorcery!” and she was forced
from her home, with only her night shirt.
Master Penbrook found her. Alone, afraid, lost and starving.
The Commander was a simple person too, with simple ways. She
was beginning to understand that simple people were dangerous,
and simple ways were violent.
