Kord turned back to her. "The thing about all of this, Isana, is that you're too naive to be as afraid as you should be. I want to help you with that. I want you to know what's going to happen."
"This is useless, Kord," Isana said. "You might as well kill me."
"When I'm ready." Kord walked over to Odiana, then reached down and seized her casually by the hair. The woman whimpered and twisted her shoulders, struggling feebly to get away from him. Kord gathered her hair up, lock by lock, until he held the length of it in his fist. "See, this one here. She's a hard case. Knows what she's doing. Knows the game. How to survive it." He shook her hair, eliciting a whimper. "All the right sounds to make. Right, girl?"
With Odiana's face bowed, facing away from Kord, Isana could see her expression now. The water witch's eyes were hard, her expression cold, distant. But she kept her voice weak, shaking. "P-please," Odiana whispered. "Master. Don't hurt me. Please. I'll do anything you want."
"That's right," Kord rumbled, smiling down at the woman. "You will."
Aric opened the door and entered, carrying a long, flat box of smooth, polished wood.
"Open it," Kord told him. "Let her see."
Aric swallowed. Then he paced around, in front of where Kord held Odiana by the hair, and opened the box.
Isana saw the contents: a strip of metal, a band perhaps an inch wide, lay on the cloth within the box, dully throwing back the light of the fires.
Odiana's expression changed. The hardness vanished from her eyes, and her mouth dropped open in an expression of something close to horror. She recoiled from the box, but was brought up short by Kord's grip on her. Isana heard her let out a whimper of pain and, unmistakably, of fear. "No," she said, at once, her voice suddenly harsher, high, panicky. "No, I don't need that. You won't need it. No, don't, I promise, you won't need it, just tell me what you want."
"It's called a discipline collar," Kord said to Isana, in a conversational voice. "Furycrafted. They're uncommon this far north. But useful, sometimes. She knows what it is, I think."
"You don't need it," Odiana said, her voice high and desperate. "Please, oh furies, please, master, you don't need that, I don't need it, no, no, no, no-"
"Aric, put it on her." Kord jerked Odiana up, holding her weight up off the floor by her hair, forcing her chin up, the slender strength of her throat to be exposed.
Odiana's eyes, still fastened on the collar, widened, white surrounding them. She screamed. It was a horrible sound, one that welled deep in her throat and rose up through her mouth without regard for meaning, for shape, horrible and feral. She turned and struggled, even as she screamed, her hands reaching toward Kord's face with desperate speed. Her nails left bloody weals down one of his cheeks, and even as she got her feet underneath her, she kicked one bare foot at the inside of his knee.
Still holding her hair in one hand, Kord dragged her to one side, off of her feet, and with the other clutched her throat. Then, with a casual surge of power, doubtless drawn from his fury, he lifted her clear of the ground by her throat, so that her feet dangled and kicked below her torn skirts.
She fought him, even so, struggling wildly against him. She raked at his arm with her nails when she couldn't reach his face, but he held her, expression never changing. She kicked at his thigh, his ribs, but without any leverage the blows did nothing to deter the big Steadholder. She struggled, grunting, gasping, making low, animal sounds of fear.
Then her eyes rolled back in her skull and she went slowly limp.
Kord held her suspended for a moment more, before he lowered her to the floor again, and once more held her by the hair, baring her throat. "Aric."
The young man swallowed. He flicked a glance at Isana, his expression strained, difficult to read. Then he stepped forward and slipped the metal band about Odiana's throat. It settled into place with a quiet, sharp click.
She took a ragged breath and let out a little groan, a desperate sound, even as Kord released her hair with a contemptuous jerk. She fell onto her side, her eyes clutched closed, and lifted her fingers to her throat. She began pawing and jerking at the collar, desperate and clumsy.
Kord drew a knife from his belt and pricked his thumb with it, then grabbed Odiana's wrist in his huge hands and did the same to hers. Her eyes opened and saw him, and once again she went wild, letting out a little shriek and struggling against him with a confused and disoriented determination.
Kord smirked. With casual strength, he forced her bloodied thumb to the collar-and then pressed his own down beside it, scarlet marking the metal.
Odiana whimpered, "No," frustration warping the word, tears making her eyes shine. Then she shuddered. Her lips moved again, but nothing intelligible came from them. She shuddered again, and her eyes lost focus. Her body relaxed, the straining against Kord's hands easing slowly away. Once more, her body shook, this time accompanying it was a low gasp.
"Bonding," Kord said, looking up at Isana. His eyes glittered. His hands roved over the woman on the ground now, casually intimate, possessive. "This will take a few minutes to set in."
Odiana gasped, arching into Kord's touch, her eyes empty, lips parted, her body moving in a slow, languid roll, all hips and back and bared throat. The collar gleamed against her skin. Kord sat over her, petting the woman like an overexcited animal. In a few moments, she was making soft, cooing sounds, curling toward him like a sleepy kitten.
"There." He stood up and said, casually, "That's a good girl."
Odiana's eyes flew open wide, then fluttered slowly closed again. She gasped, clutching her arms to her chest as though to hold something in, and for perhaps half a minute she writhed that way, letting out soft moans of unmistakable pleasure.
Kord smiled. He looked at Isana and said, quietly, "Stupid little whore."
Odiana's body convulsed, back abruptly arching into a bow. She let out
another scream-this one thin, high, somehow sickened-and flung herself onto her side. She retched, violently, though there was little enough content in her stomach to come up onto the dusty floor. Her legs and arms jerked in frantic spasm, and she lifted huge, desperate eyes to Isana, her expression agonized, pleading. She reached toward the collar at her throat and spasmed again, more violently, thrashing and flailing and rolling dangerously close to the circle of coals.
Isana stared at the woman in horrified confusion for a breath, before she lurched forward, unsteady herself, and caught Odiana before she could convulse into the ring of coals. "Stop it," Isana cried. She looked back at Kord, knew that her face was pale and desperately afraid-and saw the glitter of satisfaction in his expression when she turned to him. "Stop it! You're killing her!"
"Might be kinder," Kord said. "She's been broken before." But to Odiana he said, voice smug, "Good girl. Stay here and you'll be a good girl. Do what you're told."
The frantic spasms eased out of the woman, very slowly. Isana drew her back away from the coals and kept her arms around her, her body between Odiana and Kord. The woman's eyes had lost focus again, and she shuddered in slow waves in Isana's arms.
"What did you do to her?" Isana asked quietly.
Kord turned and walked toward the door. "What you need to learn is that slaves are just animals. You train an animal by providing rewards and punishments. Rewarding good behavior. Punishing bad. That's how you turn a wild horse into an obedient mount. How you train a wolf into a hunting hound." He opened the door and said, casually, "Same with slaves. You're just more animals. To be used for labor, breeding, whatever. You just have to be trained." Kord left the smokehouse, but his words drifted back to them. "Aric. Build up the fire. Isana. You'll wear one tomorrow. Think about that."