The Invisible Ring Page 8

Tomas tugged on the sponge. “I’ll wash your back.”


“No!” He didn’t need this boy to act as his slave, and knowing too well how it felt to be at the mercy of someone’s whims, he didn’t want anyone else feeling like that because of him.


“I’ll be careful,” Tomas said quietly.


Thrown off stride by the boy’s sympathy, Jared released the sponge. He’d forgotten about the lash wounds. Feeling no pain as Tomas washed his back, his hands gently explored his belly where the whips had cut him. It felt tender, but that was all.


“Don’t know what the Lady did, but you’ve healed up just fine,” Tomas said. “Didn’t even scar.”


Tomas’s cheerful efficiency made his heart ache. Too knowing for someone so young, here was this boy reassuring a grown man that he hadn’t scarred when his own small body looked like a battlefield.


Tomas deserved better than to be condemned to a life like this. Then again, they all deserved better.


Needing a distraction, Jared said, “Tell me about Thera and Blaed.”


“Well, you see, none of the beds were made up, though there were clean sheets and blankets folded up on the mattresses. Thera started right in ‘cause Cathryn—”


“Cathryn? I thought the other one’s name is Polli.”


“The Lady bought three females,” Tomas explained patiently. “Thera, Polli, and Cathryn. Thera’s a broken Black Widow. Breaking her might have taken her Jewels, but it sure didn’t dull her temper. Polli’s a broken witch. I think it made her soft-headed and skittish. Cathryn’s just a Blood female, too young for breeding yet.”


Jared ground his teeth. Just the thought of a Blood female being used as an aristo broodmare as soon as she became old enough to bear healthy offspring made him sick. Oh, they weren’t broken like more and more strong witches were, but that was because they didn’t have the inner power for more than basic Craft to begin with, and only unbroken females could produce more than one offspring. “How old is Cathryn?”


“She’s little. Nine maybe. You want to hear about Blaed or not?”


His breath hissed between his teeth. “I want to hear.”


“So Thera started making up beds. Polli was making up a bed, too, but she was moving slow, like something was paining her. Then Blaed walked over to Polli and said something to her, and the next thing you know, she had her back to the wall and she was screaming that she didn’t have to spread her legs, it was her moontime, and she didn’t have to spread her legs during her moontime.


“Before Blaed could say anything, Thera grabbed an apple from the bowl the servants had brought and threw it at him. Blaed’s got good reflexes. He couldn’t dodge it, but he managed to take it on the hip instead of in the balls.


“So there’s Polli having hysterics, and Cathryn’s crying ‘cause she’s scared, and Thera’s screaming at Blaed, and Blaed’s rushing toward Thera while she’s reaching back for another apple, and Randolf and Brock are trying to jump in before it gets really nasty. And then the outside door burst open and the Gray Lady was standing there.


“The males all stopped cold, and I hushed Cathryn, but Polli was still wailing about her moontime—Hell’s fire, evenI could tell that whatever was paining her, it wasn’t that— and Thera was still screaming about heartless pricks who couldn’t keep their pants buttoned and holding that apple so hard she was squishing it to pulp.”


Tomas jumped up. “You soap up your hair. I’ll get a bucket of clean water to rinse with.”


Jared soaped his hair, muttering all the while about the dire things that could happen to boys who got too bossy. The only response he got was a bucket of water poured over his head before he was ready.


Sputtering, he climbed out of the tub and grabbed a towel from Tomas. “If you don’t finish the story, I’ll throttle you.”


Now certain that he could ignore remarks like that, Tomas just grinned, grabbed another towel, and gently patted Jared’s back dry. “Turns out Blaed was just trying to be helpful. He noticed how Polli was moving and thought she shouldn’t be lifting the mattress to tuck in the sheet.


After he explained that to the Lady, looking so scared I thought he was going to faint, she fixed a brew to settle down Polli. Then she looked straight at Thera, and said, ‘Courtesy should be rewarded, not punished.’ And then she looked at Blaed, and said, ‘Remember that not all scars are visible.’


“After she left, we all ate and took baths. None of the males wanted to get near Polli, in case she had another fit. Didn’t want to get too close to Thera, either. So all the females and you and me stayed on one side of the room and the rest of the males stayed on the other side.” Tomas looked at Jared and shook his head. “And you slept through the whole thing. Matter of fact, you slept through all of yesterday, too. Come on, they left some food for you.”


Disturbed, Jared silently followed Tomas back into the main room. Had the Gray Lady been talking about the lash wounds when she’d wondered about permanent damage? Or had she sensed the hollowness inside him? Now that he was no longer in pain or exhausted, he keenly felt the loss of whatever it was the wild stranger had taken with it. He knew, with absolute certainty, that he had no chance of getting free of the Invisible Ring without it.


“You still feeling bad?” Tomas asked.


Jared shook his head and sat down at the table that had one covered plate, a plate of toast, a cup, and a small pot of coffee.


Who had put a warming spell on the covered plate and pot of coffee? Polli, who sounded like she’d had her spirit as well as her inner web broken? The sharp-tempered Thera? Either of them would still have enough strength to do something as basic as this.


But when he touched the plate, he knew it had been neither one of them. Running his finger around the plate’s rim, he found the spot where her finger had touched it, felt the ghost of the spark of power she’d used for the warming spell.


That she had done it at all spoke of concern and caring.


It made no sense.


“You’d best eat,” Tomas said, pouring the coffee. “We’ll be leaving here soon.”


Jared picked up the fork and began to eat, reminding himself with each bite to eat slowly. He couldn’t afford to have his stomach reject the meal in front of him just because he’d gulped it down, especially when he didn’t know when he might get the next one.


While he ate, Tomas told him about the other slaves. Besides Thera, Polli, and little Cathryn, there were nine males, including Tomas and himself: Blaed, the pleasure slave; Thayne; Brock and Randolf, two former guards; a mind-broken male named Garth; and Eryk and Corry, two boys about Tomas’s age.


Half-listening to Tomas’s chatter, Jared reached for another slice of thick, buttered toast. What had the Gray Lady been thinking of to buy these particular slaves? He could understand buying the four healthy adult males, but what use could she have for a mind-broken male? Or broken witches who had probably been put on the block because they’d become emotionally unstable or were now barren and had no ability to produce an offspring? Or four children?


Or a Warlord who had killed the last Queen who had owned him?


“You ain’t listening,” Tomas said accusingly.


Remembering his younger brothers, Jared knew better than to bluff. So he waved his fork over the plate and changed the subject altogether. He hoped. “What is this?”


Tomas sulked for a moment, then shrugged. “Potatoes and eggs and pieces of beef. The Lady had bought a big skillet with the rest of the supplies, and this morning she taught Thera, Polli, and Cathryn how to make it.”


The toasted bread caught in Jared’s throat. He swallowed some coffee to force it down. “The Gray Lady wascooking ?”


Tomas grinned. “I thought the innkeeper was going to die of shame, with her out there cooking in a skillet over an open fire as if what he served in the inn wasn’t good enough. That’s why we all got coffee and buttered toast this morning. The Lady told him she wanted the females to learn how to make this while she could still have his cook prepareher meal, but it would be best to give us the coffee and bread, too, so we’d have something decent under our belts.”


“But this is good,” Jared said, scooping up another forkful.


Tomas’s dark eyes sparkled. “Probably better than the Lady got.”


Jared frowned. “Why the supplies? Where are we going?”


Tomas rolled his eyes. “I was just telling you about her buying an old pedlar’s wagon and horses ‘cause we’re going cross-country to her Territory, and we can’t depend on finding an inn when we need it.”


“Why not go to the nearest village that has a Coach station and buy passage?” Jared said, still frowning. “Why take the chance of tangling with marauders or a pack of rogues by going cross-country?”


Tomas jerked as if he’d been hit. He wouldn’t look at Jared.


Jared choked down the last mouthful. Was that why slaves who went into Grizelle’s Territory never returned? Because they never got to the Territory in the first place? Marauders and rogue packs were always male, but they might have guarded home camps where they could keep women. They’d have no use for male slaves, but what about a broken witch who could cook a decent meal over an open fire? Or a broken witch who could be given an aphrodisiac that would make her so mad with need she could be mounted all night and not care what they did to her until the drug finally wore off? Or a young Blood female that could become a breeder for the dominant male of the group? What about an intelligent young half-Blood who tried so hard to please?


Did Grizelle come to the auctions to act as a slave trader for the marauders and rogue packs who hid in the Tamanara Mountains and wouldn’t dare approach Raej because they’d probably end up on the auction block themselves?


Jared’s stomach churned. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and willed himself to stay calm. What could he do? Challenge a Gray-Jeweled Queen? If she unleashed the Gray, she’d destroy him completely. Which might be preferable to finding out what would happen if she used the Invisible Ring. He understood the Jewels, but this thing he couldn’t see, couldn’t touch, couldn’t sense in any way . . .

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