no-durain, vera Tanaru!" Haru responded, "How my I serve you?"
"I have come to propose an arrangement," the Malchesse said. Tanys dropped her eyes as the black satyr's gaze fell on her.
"Anything, honored one," Haru said, "I await the word of your pleasure."
"The Malchesse are blessed with a royal audience at the new moon... a contest before the Prince."
Haru's breath rasped audibly. "A match at the palace?"
The Malchesse remained silent for a moment before speaking again, "I sense that you would desire some measure of glory in the royal court?"
Haru paused, weighing his words, "I would not presume..."
"It is good that you do not," the Malchesse droned on, "for it is not glory that I offer you, only payment for goods delivered."
"I do not understand, honored one. Forgive my ignorance."
"This one," the Malchesse said, "Have her stand."
"Tanys!" Haru hissed. Tanys rose quickly to her feet, her eyes still lowered obediently.
"You call your property by name?" the Malchesse asked.
"A bad habit," Haru chuckled, "I've been too long in the common circuits."
"Ah," the Malchesse said, "such are the debased mannerisms of the lower class."
Tanys stood in silence as the Malchesse approached. The black satyr walked a slow circle around the raven-haired girl. She did not move as he flicked a trace of gold paint from her shoulder with a long fingernail. She bit her lip as he pressed the butt of his crop hard into her buttock next to the wound Baran had given her.
"Will this heal soon?"
"Yes, my lord," Danella answered.
Tanys jumped as the Malchesse lashed his crop savagely across Danella's lips, sending the girl to the floor. Only Haru's pleading eyes stayed Tanys' wrath. Her fists balled at her side, but she made no move.
"I asked if the wound would heal soon!"
"Yes... yes!" Haru said, "There won't even be a scar in her flesh."
Tanys watched Danella from the corner of her eye. The dark-skinned girl rose again to her knees with her hands behind her back, her eyes downcast, lip swollen and bleeding. She said nothing, but her shoulders were trembling. She did not speak again, and the Malchesse paid her no further heed.
The black satyr stepped in front of Tanys, lifting her chin with the crop to take the measure of her beauty. "Adequate," he said, "for the purpose."
The black leather crop trailed down the hollow of Tanys' throat then curved up, lifting the tip of her left nipple on the rough edge of the leather strap. "Where is its ring?"
"I've been meaning to have her linked," Haru apologized, "you just never know how the new ones will work out."
"See it done," the Malchesse said, "it must be presentable before the Prince."
"You wish her to fight in the palace?" Haru asked.
"No," the Malchesse said, "I expect this slave to die beautifully."
****
"Tanys, think about this..." Haru said. The satyr clomped back and forth across the wooden floorboards, his hooves kicking up flour dust. The small room they rented above the grain mill was large enough to hold the four of them, plenty cheap, but far from clean.
Tanys continued shoving her things into a canvas bag. Jorva had already packed, though his belongings consisted only of a wine skin, a sack of desiccated lizards, and a glass ball, filled with tiny frozen bubbles, of which he had grown quite fond. Danella, the only true slave among them, watched from where she sat at the table. If the two gladiators left town, no legal bonds would keep her from following.
"Jorva," Haru said, turning to the tattooed dwarf for support, "you've never run from a fight in your life."
"Hah!" the dwarf snorted, "Jorva run from plenty of fights! One time Jorva fight with bees… Jorva no fight bees now."
"Tanys," Haru said, "it's your chance at redemption..."
"Don't!" Tanys leveled the tip of her dagger at the satyr's face, fixing him with an evil glare.
"Please," he whined, "think of the money."
"You seem to forget, Haru, I’m supposed to die beautifully. What good is money to me
"I have come to propose an arrangement," the Malchesse said. Tanys dropped her eyes as the black satyr's gaze fell on her.
"Anything, honored one," Haru said, "I await the word of your pleasure."
"The Malchesse are blessed with a royal audience at the new moon... a contest before the Prince."
Haru's breath rasped audibly. "A match at the palace?"
The Malchesse remained silent for a moment before speaking again, "I sense that you would desire some measure of glory in the royal court?"
Haru paused, weighing his words, "I would not presume..."
"It is good that you do not," the Malchesse droned on, "for it is not glory that I offer you, only payment for goods delivered."
"I do not understand, honored one. Forgive my ignorance."
"This one," the Malchesse said, "Have her stand."
"Tanys!" Haru hissed. Tanys rose quickly to her feet, her eyes still lowered obediently.
"You call your property by name?" the Malchesse asked.
"A bad habit," Haru chuckled, "I've been too long in the common circuits."
"Ah," the Malchesse said, "such are the debased mannerisms of the lower class."
Tanys stood in silence as the Malchesse approached. The black satyr walked a slow circle around the raven-haired girl. She did not move as he flicked a trace of gold paint from her shoulder with a long fingernail. She bit her lip as he pressed the butt of his crop hard into her buttock next to the wound Baran had given her.
"Will this heal soon?"
"Yes, my lord," Danella answered.
Tanys jumped as the Malchesse lashed his crop savagely across Danella's lips, sending the girl to the floor. Only Haru's pleading eyes stayed Tanys' wrath. Her fists balled at her side, but she made no move.
"I asked if the wound would heal soon!"
"Yes... yes!" Haru said, "There won't even be a scar in her flesh."
Tanys watched Danella from the corner of her eye. The dark-skinned girl rose again to her knees with her hands behind her back, her eyes downcast, lip swollen and bleeding. She said nothing, but her shoulders were trembling. She did not speak again, and the Malchesse paid her no further heed.
The black satyr stepped in front of Tanys, lifting her chin with the crop to take the measure of her beauty. "Adequate," he said, "for the purpose."
The black leather crop trailed down the hollow of Tanys' throat then curved up, lifting the tip of her left nipple on the rough edge of the leather strap. "Where is its ring?"
"I've been meaning to have her linked," Haru apologized, "you just never know how the new ones will work out."
"See it done," the Malchesse said, "it must be presentable before the Prince."
"You wish her to fight in the palace?" Haru asked.
"No," the Malchesse said, "I expect this slave to die beautifully."
****
"Tanys, think about this..." Haru said. The satyr clomped back and forth across the wooden floorboards, his hooves kicking up flour dust. The small room they rented above the grain mill was large enough to hold the four of them, plenty cheap, but far from clean.
Tanys continued shoving her things into a canvas bag. Jorva had already packed, though his belongings consisted only of a wine skin, a sack of desiccated lizards, and a glass ball, filled with tiny frozen bubbles, of which he had grown quite fond. Danella, the only true slave among them, watched from where she sat at the table. If the two gladiators left town, no legal bonds would keep her from following.
"Jorva," Haru said, turning to the tattooed dwarf for support, "you've never run from a fight in your life."
"Hah!" the dwarf snorted, "Jorva run from plenty of fights! One time Jorva fight with bees… Jorva no fight bees now."
"Tanys," Haru said, "it's your chance at redemption..."
"Don't!" Tanys leveled the tip of her dagger at the satyr's face, fixing him with an evil glare.
"Please," he whined, "think of the money."
"You seem to forget, Haru, I’m supposed to die beautifully. What good is money to me
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