Читать книгу The Three Sisters - Rebecca Locksley - Страница 10

Using the hair and a seeing spell cast on the top of the water in a horse trough, Ezratah located Yani easily. He was well within range, but it was still amazing just how far the Tari had managed to travel. He was quite a physical specimen.

The Tari warrior had left the main road and seemed to be taking a series of country tracks that led slightly more directly to Olbia - a good way to avoid pursuit. The countryside became hilly and trees often shaded the road. Walking as hard as he could and flying at sensible intervals Ezratah managed to catch up with him by midday. Again he did not join the Tari immediately but followed a short distance behind him, dropping back whenever the curve in the track or a hill brought him actually into view. He was half afraid of Yani, and yet at the same time it could be dangerous for him as a Mirayan to camp alone in this poorly settled area. He was still pondering this when he rounded a corner just in time to see Yani draw his sword as four armed men rushed him.

Ezratah dashed forward to help. The Tari had already thrown back two of his assailants with a single mighty sweep of his sword. He ducked a blow from the third and parried the fourth. The first two men had fallen backward and lay still. That must have been some blow, Ezratah thought as he stopped to watch Yani fight. With a few neat, quick strokes of his sword, Yani badly wounded the third attacker in his sword arm. The last dropped his sword and ran for it only to trip and fall on his face. When Ezratah reached him he was unconscious.

The attackers were Mirayan. They were probably escaped serfs, for they looked too wild to be any lord's henchmen. Who else would be attacking people this far away from the main road?

He turned back to Yani who was tying the wounded man's hands behind his back. Yani acknowledged Ezratah with a nod of his head and handed him a piece of cloth.

'Here. You want to heal this man's wound? I don't want him bleeding to death before some kind of authority finds him.'

'You really laid them waste!' Ezratah said admiringly.

Yani shrugged. 'They weren't very good. Used to preying on farmers, I guess. I haven't made another mistake, have I? This is not some kind of official thing? I mean they are all Mirayans.'

'No, no! I'd say they were outlaws.' He knelt down and looked at the man's wound. He was an ill-favoured fellow with native-style beard and hair, and an old scar down his face that had ruined his left eye.

'Then I guess I'll leave them tied up and report them at the next settlement. Can't leave them here attacking people like this.' Yani stood up. 'You know, I've been in your part of Seagan two days now and I've been in two fights. Is this what your people call law and order?'

'Are you blaming us for banditry?' Ezratah cried. 'Everyone has bandits.'

Yani shrugged and tied up the other three men.

With ill grace, Ezratah wasted good magic staunching the fellow's wound. The bandits would probably be hanged for their crimes.

His temper wasn't improved by the man saying to him with a serf's dialect, 'Here mate, you ain't gonna let some native do this to us, ar' yer?'

'Do you think I'm going to bother myself helping bandits and escaped serfs?' Ezratah said roundly, although it hurt his pride to see his countrymen in the wrong. 'Just be grateful you're getting healed, worthless one.'

The sense of humiliation lasted until the next village. The bandits had been troubling the area for some time and the Seagani villagers made much of both Ezratah and Yani. Yani did not enlighten them as to how small Ezratah's part in the business had been, which made Ezratah feel patronised but at the same time glad that he had at least saved Mirayan prestige with the local Seagani. It was scandalous that these fellows had been operating for so long, but the village was a small, dilapidated place without much Mirayan authority.

The Seagani offered them hospitality for the night, but Yani wanted to press on. Ezratah decided to go with him and was determined not to give Yani a chance to disappear. He was going to stick to the fellow like a burr to sheepskin and win some honour from the grateful duke. But was Ezratah wise to be travelling with Yani?

They walked on for a couple of hours until dark, and then stopped near an empty shepherd's lean-to. It was a lonely place, but somehow Ezratah trusted the Tari not to harm him. He placed wards around his blankets and lay down to sleep quite easily.

Later that night he woke suddenly and heard Yani talking. At first he kept quiet, sleepily thinking the fellow was saying one of his prayers. Then with a sudden, horrible tingling down the back of his spine, he realised that he was hearing not one voice but two. Both voices were speaking softly, but the timbre of the second was definitely different.

Horrible thoughts of being attacked filled him and the blood in his veins felt as if it was ice. After a moment of panic he got a grip on himself and brought his defensive spells to mind. When he felt better he was pleased that he had not given himself away by moving. If they thought he was still asleep, it would give him the advantage. So he lay there listening for any movement in his direction and straining to hear the chilling conversation behind him. Try as he might, he could not make out what was being said and he dared not use magic for fear of giving himself away. With his back to the speakers he saw nothing.

Finally the voices stopped. He tensed again, ready to fight, but nothing happened. Was it his imagination or did he hear footsteps crunching away on the dry summer grass? After a few moments he sat up and looked around. Of course there was nothing to see. Yani appeared to be sleeping peacefully and all around the moon shone coldly silver over the grass and dark shapes of distant trees. Inwardly he cursed himself as a coward. He should have turned around the minute he had heard them.

Now he no longer felt sure that he had even heard the voices. He could not remember hearing Yani settle down in his bedroll. Had it all been a dream? Yet some of the chill he had felt when he heard the voices still clung to his bones. After sitting for some time looking around, he lay back down. Though he thought he would not sleep again that night, morning came with surprising speed. With it came even more serious doubts over whether or not he actually had woken in the night.

Perhaps he should have contented himself with trailing the fellow. Aside from the midnight conversation there was also an easy assumption of equality from Yani that annoyed him. Most of his regimental colleagues would have already given the Tari a short, brutal lesson in respect, but Ezratah was confident in the superiority of Mirayan civilisation and had always figured that impertinent natives were simply ignorant and would quickly learn to be more respectful once they knew better.

So he did his best to school Yani, telling him all about Miraya and how they did things there. Somehow this led Ezratah on to the topic of the Mirayan civil war. Since Zarmartan the Second had died without viable heirs twenty-seven years before, the country had been divided into several smaller territories under a number of competing warlords who supported, sometimes inconsistently, one of three different factions. Since Yani seemed quite clever for a native, Ezratah did him the honour to treat him to the intelligent version of events - the causes and effects, not just the tales of mighty battles and ugly betrayals that were usually enough for primitive ears.

And yet at the end, all the Tari could say was, 'So that is why you have come here in such numbers. I've often wondered. But why do the Mirayans seek to bring peace and order to the Archipelago when it is so lacking in their own land?'

The remark left Ezratah speechless. He was completely, embarrassingly at a loss. Why had the fellow asked the question when the answer was so obvious? The Mirayans were bringing a great civilisation - their vastly superior magecraft, science, religion - to these backward little Archipelagan states. Yani was obviously not as smart as Ezratah had given him credit for.

The following day was much the same. They had returned to the main paved road to Olbia - Mirayan-built, as he took good care to point out. The Seagani still farmed the hills in their inefficient way, using only the most rudimentary cultivation techniques and moving their villages every few years instead of taking proper care of the buildings. The road itself was lined with Mirayan farms. They were clearly recognisable with their beautiful, neat fields of golden wheat or white sheep, their whitewashed buildings and their tidy orchards. The sight of them filled Ezratah with pride, but the Tari was not impressed.

'I guess now that the Mirayans govern this land, they have replaced all the Seagani chieftains with Mirayan lords, yes? But what about all these farms? Where have they come from?' Yani asked. 'It is not like the Seagani to part with their land willingly.'

'When Prince Alexus was offered the chieftainship, the Seagani were united. Over the years there have been rebellions against him and their land has been confiscated. Or the local lords have given grants of land that are unused.'

'Unused?'

'Well, as far as I can see the Seagani leave most of the land unused. I mean they pick up every three years and move. It's so wasteful.'

'I imagine they do it so that the life spirit of the land they have been farming can recover. The spirit of this land is not very strong and gets worn out by being farmed all the time. Just because it's empty doesn't mean it is unused. It's resting.'

'Well, that's ridiculous. I'm a nobleman - no expert on farming of course - but Mirayan farming methods can produce much more from a single piece of land. You put manure on it and rotate crops and other things like that… ' He should have known better than to have troubled himself with enlightening the Tari. He'd continue to ask questions like some silly child. Why should the Seagani change their farming methods? Why were Mirayan farming methods better? Why did the Mirayans grow fruit trees where there was obviously not enough water for them?

The arrogant bumpkin wound up lecturing him - him! - and going on about the life spirit and harmony and all kinds of other superstitious native rubbish. He truly believed the native way was superior.

'Mirayans don't believe that inanimate objects contain life spirit,' Ezratah said at last, just to shut him up.

'That's quite obvious,' Yani said tartly.

The cheek of the fellow! It was the complacent assumption of rightness that most annoyed Ezratah, the more so because it was so very wrong. But how could he convince this stubborn barbarian that the primitive belief in the life spirit was wrong? Every civilised person knew that only people had life spirit. It was the hierarchy of nature. People were superior to, and thus the rulers of, other creatures, plants and the earth, just as the high-born were superior to and natural rulers of the peasantry.

As they travelled along, however, Ezratah came to understand why the Tari had such an overweening opinion of himself. Every time they went through a village, the natives flocked around him, cheering and laughing. The women asked him for blessings for them and their children - which he gave - and made requests for healing - which he declined, saying that he was not a mage. A couple of times people were angry at his denial and once, as they left a village, someone threw a clod of mud at him. The Tari's hand caught the mud before Ezratah had even seen it coming. Yani walked along for several steps afterward, tossing the clod thoughtfully in his hand.

'Disturbing,' Ezratah said at last.

'Yes,' the Tari said, tossing the clod away. 'But on the whole I am surprised I have not had more of this. These people call my people the Guardians and my people have done nothing for them for over twenty years. I had expected more anger and instead I have received only love and kindness, for which I feel most unworthy.'

His words set off alarms in Ezratah's head. There must be some kind of religious connection between the Tari and the Seagani. They looked on him as some kind of leader. There was no doubting that Yani had leadership qualities and a sense of responsibility for them. Yes, very worrying. The Southern Seagani were a restive, unruly people who bore the limitations of law and order unwillingly. There had been a number of uprisings against Prince Scarvan. Ezratah prayed he was not witnessing the beginning of another. It was a good thing he was here, travelling with the Tari. Once he got to Olbia it was imperative that he inform someone of the Tari's disturbing effect on the natives. Whomever he informed was sure to be grateful.

Maybe it was the heat. As the day went on and Ezratah's irritation grew, he found himself needling the fellow, who of course refused to rise to the bait in a sickeningly superior way. Only once did he ruffle Yani's annoyingly calm surface. He had asked the fellow about his earlier life, and Yani told him that he had served in the Danian army.

My chance to scoff, thought Ezratah. 'Queen Sharma,' he said. 'Is she as lascivious as they say? Does she really have ranks of men-at-arms whose duties are to pleasure her?'

'Queen Sharma is very happily married,' Yani said coldly.

'Oh, come on! I doubt that! What kind of man could be happy letting his wife rule? It will be the ruination of that country, this inversion of natural order. It's like expecting a serf to general an army. Mir did not make women to rule. They are victims of their baser passions with no grasp of logic or diplomacy.'

'What are you talking about?' Yani asked. 'Is that why you keep your women imprisoned?'

'They are not imprisoned,' Ezratah said. 'They are protected from the hard world of men. Mir created them to be mothers and their world is - and should be - the world of family and children. In the household they are the rulers just as men are the rulers outside it. A man's intellect and self-control is superior. That is why Mir put him at the pinnacle of the natural order. And that's why a woman ruler… I've even heard she has a regiment of bodyguards who are women. Do they provide bedmates for her husband? Is that how she keeps him quiet?'

'Women can fight and they are very fine fighters,' Yani said. 'In the old days the queen's husband won her through combat. Now it is all done with champions, which is much fairer. The strongest man does not necessarily make the best consort. Sometimes, in the past, male bodyguards took advantage of their power to kill the king and forcibly marry the queen. A female bodyguard is not so open to that temptation.'

'What a way to run a country! All the power in the hands of women. How do Dani men bear it? The queen ought to want a strong man to help her rule. What must it do to a woman to have to give orders? Their nature is submission. They are happiest being directed. Well, some women do like to rule but they are the worst sort and they always do it badly. I can imagine this queen… hard, cruel, and no doubt promiscuous.'

At that moment he tripped over something and fell flat on his face. At the same time he heard the sound of steel being drawn. He rolled over just in time to see Yani finish drawing his sword.

'Sir,' Yani said pleasantly, though his eyes were cold. 'I have sworn to uphold the queen's honour. I must ask you to cease talking about her like this or I will be forced to challenge you to a duel in her name, and I have no wish to kill a mage.'

'You'd be stupid to try,' Ezratah said, who was nonetheless a little nervous.

'But I will do it,' Yani said. 'Queen Sharma is a fine and good ruler who has shown me great kindness. I will not listen to her being slandered like this. It is a matter of honour.'

Ezratah looked quickly around. Now was the time for any followers to attack if they were going to. There was no sign of them though.

'Sir,' Yani said. 'Your answer please. Are we to fight?'

'Of course not,' Ezratah said. 'I too have my honour and it does not include duelling with those who have no magic.'

'And… '

'What do you mean?'

'We will not talk about the queen, yes?'

'If it offends you, I am willing not to speak of it.'

'Good,' Yani said. He put his sword back in its sheath.

That stupid Tari! Ezratah honestly thought the fellow would have attacked him. Mad. Mad as a headless chicken. When he'd stopped being stunned, he was even more angry. What about all the times the Tari had offended him today? All those things he'd implied about Prince Scarvan being a liar and a merchant. What about his feelings of offence? Hah! Personal kindness, huh! The fellow was probably bedding the queen himself. The whole thing was disgraceful.

It was all part of the fellow's blatant arrogance. Ezratah was looking forward to getting to Olbia so the Tari could see for himself just how fine Mirayan civilisation was compared to his pathetic native state. As the day ended, he was almost looking forward to seeing the fellow taken into custody, even though normally he would not have wished that on anyone. They'd give him a good beating to knock the superiority out of him, search his mind without painkilling spells and find out all those things he was too high and mighty to tell.

Now, there was a frustrating thought. Scarvan's mages would learn all the things about the Tari that Ezratah so longed to find out. They probably wouldn't tell him either. It was enough to make him almost… After all, he could mindsearch the fellow himself. And Yani had no way of preventing him. The temptation was great.

But it would be very wrong to act in such a way, even toward a native. As a mage he had vowed not to prey upon them. That way led to death magic. Though, of course, an illicit mindsearch was a very long way from actual collusion with demons. No. No, he couldn't do it. He had to maintain standards even in an uncivilised place like this. Especially in an uncivilised place like this.

That evening they camped in a stand of trees near a stream. Ezratah made sure that there were several rocks under his blanket so that he didn't sleep too heavily. It did no good; he must have been exhausted after following Yani's pace all day, for it seemed only a moment after he lay down that he was waking with the sun in his eyes and the sound of a child's laughter in his ears.

He sat up and looked around for the child but he could see no one. By the time he had rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, he was almost certain he had been dreaming. The sun had only just risen by the look of it. He was alone, but he was pleased to see that Yani's bedroll and pack were still there. There was no sign at all of the annoying Tari. No doubt he was off saying his strange little prayers.

Ezratah slid out of his bedroll and stretched. He remembered his vindictive feelings of the night before and he was a bit ashamed of them. Still, the authorities had better be informed about Yani. It was only wise. He went quickly to Yani's pack and went through it. In among the provisions were vambraces, grieves and a helmet. These made the pack extremely heavy. It was amazing that the Tari could move so fast while carrying so much weight! He must be immensely strong despite his slight build. Apart from the armour, there was little else of note in the pack. Nothing for him to learn from.

Ezratah sat back on his heels, the familiar frustration creeping into him. He foresaw every chance of travelling to Olbia and finding out nothing more from the fellow. His mind filled with the tempting idea of mindsearches once again.

Now might be a good time for the Tari to have a clandestine conversation with someone. But where to find him? The river was the first place to look. If nothing else he could have a wash and a drink while he looked for Yani.

He walked as quietly as possible down the path toward the river. Though it was not a big river, it had a steep bank that was covered with trees and underbrush. Through the trees he saw a white shape in the river, and peering more closely, he saw it was Yani. He was sitting naked in the water and rubbing his body with sand. He rubbed his back and then swivelled around and splashed water up over his breasts…

Breasts! Sweet Mir! Automatically Ezratah ducked down behind a bush. Breasts? Breasts!

For a moment he could only lie there, quivering with shock like an arrow that had hit its mark. Then cautiously he parted the branches of the bush and peeped down at the person in the river.

He, or rather she, was standing up now. There were definitely breasts, and a triangle of fine hair between the legs where there was… nothing! A woman. The Tari was a woman! Suddenly his mind was filled with a burning red mist.

By Mir, a woman! How dare she! That creature was playing him for a complete fool. He sat back on his heels, shaking with fury.

Mir! Great Mir, the shameless… That brazen… That unmitigated whore. Sitting there naked, washing her breasts quite openly with no thought of who might come. Going about dressed in a man's clothes, full of brazen opinions and judgments on him. On him! As if she was not flouting every natural law known. As if she had any right to have such opinions. Besmirching everything that was decent and honourable. The self-righteous, self-satisfied Yani. Sweet Mir, these native women had no shame. She deserved a damn good lesson. She deserved to be treated like the whore she obviously was. That would show her. That would teach her.

He was so furious he was not thinking straight. Suddenly he was afraid of what might happen if he saw her face-to-face. All those raw feelings. Realising that he - she - would be coming down the path soon, he got up and, crouching low, crept off into the trees.

He wandered around the woodlands, for some time, seething.

How dare she? How dare she? Behaving like that. Oh, he longed to teach her a lesson, but he had already cooled off enough to know that throwing himself on her was not the answer. He had no taste for such behaviour. He was too repelled by her to even want to touch her, much less intimately. Oh, horrible.

Finding himself again near the river but well out of sight of Yani, he sat down on the bank and splashed himself. The cool water helped him think more clearly. He itched to humiliate her as she had done him. He tried to think of some way he could use his magic. Of course he could injure her magically, but his father's upbringing stopped him.

Father had been the soul of chivalry. How would he have acted in this situation? He would have been flabbergasted, shocked, repelled that a woman could act so! If only he could somehow take her to Olbia and hand her over to the duke. But to just swallow the offence of her masquerade until they got there? Let her keep laughing up her sleeve at him? Oh no, he was still a man! He had to do something. He bitterly regretted the decency which had caused him to reject mindsearching her. Such a woman deserved no consideration. Maybe he could do it now.

Suddenly a wonderful thought came to him. He felt in his pouch and pulled out a pink crystal. Yes. This was the perfect solution. He could find out what he wanted and teach her a lesson at the same time. A crueller, more subtle lesson that would show the creature how decent men regarded women who set themselves up above their proper place. Something that would teach her a woman's place.

Pempus, the garrison skirt-chaser, had given him the crystal as a farewell gift. A generous gift really, for such things were expensive, not strictly legal and hard to get. Pempus had only one solution for all life's problems, and he had always thought Ezratah was far too serious. The little pink crystal contained a spell designed to make women love the holder or, in Pempus's case, make women agree to go to bed. The charm was of limited use. The charmed could not be made to do something they really believed to be wrong, which was why there was no point in using it on a decent Mirayan woman. Not that there were frequent chances to be that close to them. But a native woman, as everyone knew, was perfectly willing to have sex for the right price. Using a charm spell simply saved time and money. Ezratah had always secretly thought it rather distasteful and had no intention of putting it to such use. If he charmed Yani, however, she would happily tell him all her secrets and he would also work out some other way to humiliate her as she had humiliated him.

When to do it? He could leave it until they stopped for the night, but what if other travellers joined them or she shook him off? The thought of following that creature all day, of having to look at those uncovered legs and hide the fury that he still felt… No man could expect himself to undergo such torment. By Mir, he was going to enjoy teaching her the lesson she was asking for.

No time like the present! He would do it now. All he needed to do was touch her skin with the crystal and trigger it with a small touch of magic. The spell itself should be quite strong. The strength of Yani's adoration and the length it lasted would depend on how weak her resistance to magic was.

By the time he had reached the campsite Yani had returned. She was sitting on a rock beside her pack. Her slim, shapely legs encased in their dark hose were stretched out, filling him with fury again. They were so obviously women's legs, and her smooth, unbearded face, which he had simply thought a sign of her youth… She looked so feminine to him now.

'Where did you get to?' Yani asked as he came closer. 'There's some food here.' She got up to go to the fire.

'Oh, I've just been walking around,' he said casually.

'Well, come on. Eat up so we can get going,' she said.

'Just wait a minute. I've just had a surprise,' he said. 'I'm shocked and astonished and, well, I'm relieved too.'

Yani looked at him narrowly. 'Yes?'

'Yani,' he said. 'Dear Yani. I have to confess I saw you bathing this morning.' He was very pleased to see how embarrassed she was. He forged ahead. 'I'm so relieved. I… Well, I have to confess, I've been attracted to you ever since I first saw you. I've been so worried. I thought I was turning strange.' He gave a relieved laugh, which he thought was rather a good touch. She looked confused.

'Yani,' he said softly, romantically tilting his head to one side. He reached out and took her hand and she, confused, let him take it without resistance, though he could see concern dawning in her face.

Too late, bitch, he thought as he pressed the crystal in his palm against her flesh. There should be a brief burst of magical light. Yes there it was…

Suddenly green flame burst out of their clasped hands!

The flame shot up his arm. He shrieked and sprang back, tripping over his feet and falling over on his back. The green fire ran all over him. He beat desperately at his arms and legs. He felt the magic making his skin buzz with its power, felt it penetrating him.

Suddenly there was a heavy weight on his chest. A little girl was sitting astride him. Her long, pale hair swung around her dark-eyed face as she swung back her fist and threw a great splat of green light into his face.

Everything went dark.

Then he was lying on his back looking at the blue sky. Where was he? What had happened? A hand hit his cheek. The little girl was still sitting astride his chest. She started slapping his face with both hands.

'Ha, you slimy toad!' she shouted. Slap. Slap. 'I got you now!' Slap. Slap. 'Put a charm on my sister, will you? Toad.'

'Marigoth!' cried a voice. 'Stop it. What's going on?'

The most sublime woman appeared above them and pulled the little girl off him. He sat up and stared at her, forgetting everything else.

He had never felt love before this moment, nor even ever really seen a woman before. His eyes could not get enough of this wonderful creature - this tall, slim, beautiful creature in chain-mail and dark hose who stood before him.

'The bastard tried to enchant you,' the little girl shouted. 'Can you believe it? The sleazy fungus. The manure pile.' She kicked at him. He fended off her foot absent-mindedly as he continued to stare at the beautiful woman.

'I knew he'd try something. That's why I put a warding on you, Yani. I never trusted him. And I was right, just like I told you. Ha. But I got you, didn't I? Now he's caught in his own web. Now he's enchanted by you!'

She kicked at Ezratah again. Ezratah flinched but it was automatic. Yani. So beautiful. Yani. Oh Yani.

A look of horror came over Yani's face. 'Marigoth! What have you done?!'

'I knew he would try something when he saw you bathing. I knew it!' the little girl cried.

'And how was it that he woke up and saw me anyway?' Yani asked hotly. 'I thought you were holding him asleep.'

The little girl's face took on a self-righteous look. 'I can't think of everything.'

'You set this up, didn't you Mari?'

'He would have been a problem anyway. He's up to something and you know it. You heard him all day yesterday. All that awful stuff he said about women. Revolting Mirayan. It made me sick.'

'Mari, he's just one sort of man. There are plenty of Dani just like him. And Seagani and Mori. Maybe even Tari.'

She turned and looked down at Ezratah, who smiled beatifically up at her. She looked distinctly embarrassed. 'Now he knows I'm a woman, we'll have to wipe his memory.'

'There's no need,' the little girl said. 'He's your faithful slave now. He'll keep any secret with his life. Won't you, Ezratah?' She nudged him with her foot yet again.

He nodded enthusiastically, still staring up at Yani. Oh, Yani!

'Oh yes,' the little girl gloated. 'I'm going to enjoy this. All that stuff he said about women being foolish and illogical. Smug, superior toad.'

'No, Marigoth. This is wrong. We can't enslave him. You know it's wrong.'

The little girl's face dropped. 'It serves him right,' she muttered defensively. 'Baser passions indeed!' She turned to Yani and put her hands on her hips. 'I just made the spell he was trying to cast on you backfire on him.'

'Really?' Yani said looking at her with a raised eyebrow. 'So what was that green fire I saw, hmm?'

'So I strengthened it. But it's still his spell, I promise you. A spell to make you love him, from the look of it. If he hadn't used it on you it wouldn't be affecting him now.'

'Well, I think you should release him and wipe his mind.'

'No,' the little girl said. 'I'm not going to.'

'No!' Ezratah cried, jumping up anxiously. He came over to kneel at Yani's feet. 'Lady, please don't release me. I only want to be near you. To serve you. To be allowed to love you. That's all.'

'Oh no!' Yani groaned. She put her face in her hands. Ezratah reached out to her, unsure, daring to touch her.

In the background the little girl chortled gleefully. 'Isn't he soppy? And you know the best part. The spell is fed entirely by his power. He's actually enslaving himself. What a joke.'

'Marigoth! You free him! Immediately!'

'He knows you're a woman. He's a danger to you!'

'Oh no,' Ezratah protested. 'I would never harm Yani.'

'Rubbish,' Yani snapped. 'You could wipe his mind.'

'I'd rather not. It's a very dangerous operation wiping minds. You can never tell what other bits you're going to wipe as well. He wouldn't thank us for making that decision. I think it's much better like this.'

'Yes, yes,' Ezratah cried. 'This is the best.'

'Marigoth!'

'He could be very useful to us, Yani. You said so yourself. We've already learned a lot from him. He can speak Mirayan. He knows how they think.'

'Yes,' Ezratah said, giving into the temptation to paw Yani's hand. 'Let me help you. Please, Yani.'

'Shut up!' Yani snapped at Ezratah, who shrank back apologetically.

'He'll do anything you ask, like a dog. And he'll never ask any questions. He's your complete slave.'

'And you shut up, too!' Yani shouted. She took a deep breath. 'I don't want a slave, Marigoth. It's wrong.'

'It's your only protection. If you tell him to keep your secret, he'll do it even if they pull his tongue out.'

'Are you going to release him?'

'He deserves what he got, Yani. You're too soft.'

'ARE YOU GOING TO RELEASE HIM?!'

'No,' the little girl said.