Anvar struggled desperately, flinching away as the broad collar was placed around his neck and the ends were closed together, but the guards held him firmly. The smith was well accustomed to this delicate task, and caused him little pain, though Anvar whimpered in fear as he felt the collar grow hot when the edges were welded together with the searing iron. But the little boy, who had left his bellows, was standing ready to douse him with cold water from a jar, and the heat vanished at once. The child gave him a cheeky grin as he returned to his former task, and Anvar felt like a craven fool. The coarse rope binding his hands was cut away, and his hands were drawn round to the front and fitted with manacles joined by a short length of chain. One of the guards produced another chain which he attached to a ring on the collar. Nodding brusque thanks to the taciturn smith, he gave a^sharp tug, preparing to lead Anvar away.
Like a dog! Anvar, furious, humiliated, and still shaking from the jolt of fear that had gone through him when the collar was sealed, gripped the chain in his manacled hands and pulled back as hard as he could. Instantly the other guard took a short, thick whip from his belt, and the heavy lash fell once, twice, three times across Anvar’s back and shoulders. He staggered, crying out with pain, and the guard pulled sharply on the chain. The hard edge of the iron collar cut into his neck and the lash fell once more, branding a line of fire across Anvar’s back as he staggered after the guard. The other handler followed, his whip flashing down whenever Anvar stumbled or slackened his
They took Anvar back inside the building, down a steep flight of steps into the cellars beneath. He was thrust into a bare and gloomy cell that housed several other slaves, all men. Their collars were attached at half height to rings on the wall by a 1 handspan of chain, so that they were forced to remain sitting up 1 at all times. Ventilated only by an iron grille set high on the wall, the place stank of human excrement. Gutters led down to a dip in the center of the floor, in which was set a noisome open drain. Anvar was later to learn that the cell was swilled out, slaves and all, twice a day, and that was the limit of the sanitation.
The guards chained him by his collar to a vacant ring in the wall and left him, bolting the door behind them. None of the other slaves reacted in any way to his presence. They werf sorry specimens mostly: filthy, half starved, and covered in sores and scars. Some wept, some dozed, while others stared blankly at nothing with hollow, vacant eyes.
Anvar tried to reach behind him with manacled hands to grasp the chain that fastened him to the wall. He managed to get a grip at last, though the iron collar almost throttled him. He tore at the chain until his fingers bled, but it was firmly attached to the collar at one end, and at the other, to the ring that was bolted into the wall. At last he gave up, and hiding his face in his bleeding hands, he gave himself over to despair, There was no escape, not now at least. What would become of him? What was being done to Sara? And most of all, what had happened to that faithless Mage? In his self-pity, he imagined Aurian continuing her journey, free and uncaring about the t\ she had so callously abandoned to their fate.
Despite his anger at her, the thought of Aurian steadied him. At least she faced things with courage and determination,
What would she say if she could see him giving way like this?
Nothing, Anvar suddenly realized. She would simply get these bloody chains off, and get him out of here—and it wouldn’t be the first time she had saved him. Anvar thought of Aurian’s past kindnesses, remembered the closeness they had briefly shared on board the ship. He recalled that in bringing him on this journey, she had saved him from the Death Wraiths—and remembered why she had left him in the first place. It was his own fault. He had driven her away, and wherever she was, she would be facing difficulties of her own. At least he could take an example from her courage. Anvar vowed then that whatever happened, he would endure—as he knew that she would endure. “I will survive this,” he promised himself fiercely. “And one day I’ll see Sara and the Mage again.”
Sara cringed back as far as her bound limbs would let her, shrinking into the corner of the narrow bunk as the cabin door opened. The captain entered with a bundle in his arms, followed by two brawny sailors carrying a large tub ,of water between them. Another followed with a plate of bread and fruit and a tarnished cup, which he set down on the table. The captain waited until his men had left, then with a sweeping gesture, he drew a jeweled dagger from the sleeve of his loose-fitting robe, Sara uttered a little shriek, but he merely leaned forward and cut the ropes that bound her feet and hands. Then standing over her, he made motions for her to undress, Sara clutched the neck of her tattered gown, and shook her head wildly in denial, “No!” she gasped. “Please, no.” The captain laughed, and pointed at the tub of water, the bundle that he had dumped on the bed, and the food on the table. Then with an ironic bow, he turned and left the cabin, locking the door behind him.
After a moment Sara slipped out of the bunk and ran to try the door, knowing the futility of the act even as she did it. It was locked, of course. She was not sure whether to be glad or sorry. In a way it was a comfort to have this solid piece of wood between herself and the men who had laid hands on her on the beach. She shuddered at the memory. After Aurian’s warning about the sailors on the first ship, she’d been half crazed with terror—but when the captain set eyes on her, he had shouted some orders in his harsh foreign tongue, and they had brought her down here. Apart from sleeping for a while—she had no idea how long—she had kin here, trembling, ever since, the sound of every footstep filling her with dread.
Now it seemed that the captain wanted her for himself, Well, Sara decided, it was better than being raped by his unsavory-looking crew. He’d been courteous, at least , , . Fear was such a familiar companion by now that practicality asserted itself. The fruit on the table, though strange to her, looked ripe and luscious, and it smelled so good ... Oh well, she thought. Might as well be.ravished on a full stomach! The cup held a light, spicy wine that Sara found delicious, although in her dehydrated state she would have preferred water. The contents of the tub looked clean enough, but she had no intention of risking it.
After her meal, Sara felt much better, and turned to examine the bundle on the bed. ^^^^^^^^^^ia^ ana’ jcytaff A&wJ/; a bar of coarse soap, a comb carved from some white bonelike substance—and a richly embroidered hooded robe that tied at the waist with a silken sash. As she shook out the folds of the robe, something fell out and rolled across the cabin floor. It turned out to be a little glass vial of perfume. Sara sniffed the fragrance appreciatively. Despite the dangers that lurked all too close, things were looking up.
Although the water in the tub was shallow and only lukewarm, the bath was a glorious luxury. She washed her hair too, drying it afterward as best she could with the damp cloths and combing out the tangles and snarls until it fell in its usual, glimmering cascade of rich gold. The robe felt wonderfully soft and cool against her bare skin, and the perfume was rich and sweet. It felt so good to be clean again. She only wished she had a mirror.