Isana swallowed and said, "I'm sorry. But Odiana, if we can work together-"
"We can get killed together," Odiana said, her voice becoming edged again. "Listen to me, holdgirl, and I'll tell you what happens. I've done it before."
'All right," Isana said, quietly.
"There are two kinds of slavers," Odiana said. "The ones in it for professional reasons, and the ones who take it personally. Professionals work for the Consortium. They don't allow anyone to damage or use their merchandise, unless it's as discipline. If they like you, they'll invite you to their tent and give you nice food and talk and charm you. It's the same as a rape, only it takes longer and you get a good meal and a soft bed afterward."
"That's not Kord."
"No, it isn't. He's the other kind. Like the ones who took my family. For him, it's knowing he's beating someone. Knowing he's breaking someone. He doesn't want to deliver a high-quality product, ready to work or pleasure. He wants us broken into pieces. He wants us to be animals." She smiled and said, "When he takes us, that's just part of the process that he enjoys a bit more than the others."
Isana's stomach quailed. "Takes us," she whispered. "He's-"
The other woman nodded. "If he wanted to kill you you'd already be dead. He has other plans for you." She sneered. "And I saw some of the other women he keeps at this place. Rabbits. Sheep. He likes them helpless. Not fighting back." She shivered and stretched, her back arching sinuously,
her eyes closing for a moment. She moved one hand to the throat of her blouse, tugging at it, pulling buttons open, the sweaty cloth clinging to her.
"Are you all right?" Isana asked.
Odiana licked her lips and said, "I don't have much time. Listen to me. For him, the game is breaking you, and to do that he has to make you afraid. If you aren't afraid, he has no power over you. If you're quiet and reserved, you aren't what he wants. Do you understand?"
"Y-yes," Isana said. "But we can't just stay here-"
"We survive for as long as you don't break," Odiana said. "To him I'm nothing but a pretty whore to be used. You he wants broken. As long as you remain in control of yourself, he doesn't get what he wants."
"What happens if I do break?"
"He kills you," she said. "And he kills me because I saw you, and he hides the bodies. But it won't be an issue."
"Why not?"
"It won't," Odiana says. "One way or another. Hold out for a day. That's all. Because I promise neither of us will draw breath for half an hour if you break. That's why I drank both cups."
Isana fought to take a breath, and her head spun. "Why you drank both cups?"
"Have you ever tasted aphrodin, holdgirl?"
She stared at Odiana. "No," she said. "Never."
Odiana licked her lips, smiling. "Then it would have unnerved you. Wanting when you knew you shouldn't want. At least I know what it's like." She stretched again, unbuttoning her blouse lower, showing the soft curves of her breasts. She adjusted the fall of her skirt so that it bared one strong, smooth thigh, and ran a fingertip along it. "Let's review our stratagem. I'm going to make them happy. And you're going to not care. There, that's simple."
Isana felt her insides twist, felt sickened as she stared at the other woman. "You're going to-" She couldn't finish. It was too horrible.
Odiana let her lips curve into a smile. "The act isn't unpleasant you know. In and of itself. It's rather nice. And I won't be thinking about them." The smile grew a bit wider, and the whites showed around her eyes. "I'll be thinking of the pieces. The pieces left when my lord catches up to them. He will see to his duty, and then he will come for me. And there will be pieces." She shivered and let out a soft gasp. "And there. I'm happy already."
Isana stared at the woman, revolted, and shook her head. This could not
be happening. It simply could not be happening. She, with her brother, had worked the whole of their adult lives to make the Calderon Valley a place safe for families, for civilization-for Tavi to grow up. This wasn't a part of the world she had worked to build. This wasn't a part of what she dreamed.
Tears welled in her eyes, and she fought to restrain them, to hold back the precious moisture before it fell. Without thinking, she reached for Rill's help and did not find it. Tears trickled over her cheeks.
She hurt. Deep inside. She felt horribly, utterly alone, with only a madwoman for company. Isana reached out for Rill again, desperate, and felt nothing. Again she tried, and again, refusing to accept that her fury was beyond her reach.
She didn't hear the footsteps until they were immediately outside the smokehouse. Someone shoved the door open. The hulking, ugly shape of Kord and those of a dozen other men stood silhouetted by the light of the circle of coals.
Chapter 25
Being captured, Tavi thought, was a twofold evil. It was both uncomfortable and boring.
The Marat hadn't spoken, not to the Alerans nor to one another. Four had simply held spear tips to Tavi's and Fade's throats, while the other two trussed their arms and legs with lengths of tough, braided cord. They took Tavi's knife and pouch away and searched then confiscated Fade's battered old pack. Then the two who had tied them simply flung them over one of their broad shoulders and loped off into the storm.
After half an hour of jouncing against the Marat warrior's shoulder, Tavi's stomach felt as though he'd been belly diving from the tallest tree along the Rillwater. The Marat who carried him ran with a pure and predatory grace, moving along the land at a mile-eating lope. He leapt over a streambed, and once a low row of brush, evidently entirely unencumbered by the weight of his prisoner.
Tavi tried to keep track of which way they were headed, but the darkness and the storm and his awkward position (mostly upside down) made it impossible. The rain turned into pelting, stinging sleet, blinding him almost entirely. The winds continued to rise and grow colder, and Tavi could see the windmanes moving in the storm, wild and restless. None of them came near the Marat war band.
Tavi tried to mark where he was by the lay of the ground rolling by under his nose, but the storm began coating it in a layer of plain, monotonous white. He had no way of getting his bearings by the kind of rock or earth beneath him, no way to guide himself by the stars, no way to orient himself upon the lay of the land. Though he tried for an hour more, he gave it up as pointless.
That left him with only the fear to think about.
The Marat had taken him and Fade. While they appeared, outwardly, much like Alerans, they were not truly human and had never shown a desire to be so, and instead remained the primitive savages who ate fallen foes and mated with beasts. Though they lacked furycrafting of their own, they made up for it in raw athletic ability, courage that was more madness than virtue, and vast numbers that dwelt on the unknown stretches of the wilderness that began on the easten side of the last Legion fortification, Garrison.