Slavemaster's Woman, The (32 page)

Tarken now had his opening. “I have access
to the needed device.” He said nothing more, watching with inward
humor as both women went stock still and blinked at him.

Shre then stiffened, and in one swift motion
she was at him, pulling her stunner and pressing it to the center
of his forehead. “Where is it?” she growled.

Cushla jumped back, gulping down the breath
she was about to release, a small squeak emerging from her throat
instead.

Tarken merely sighed. “This is getting old,
Shre. Zap me or don’t, but your threats are becoming feeble.”

“Listen, you bastard—”

“Put the weapon away, Shre.” Kleb took hold
of her wrist.

“After I fry him, Kleb. Return to the castle
and search his quarters.”

“It’s not in my quarters and it’s unlikely
that you will find it.” Tarken returned, careful to keep his tone
cool, his expression inscrutable.

“Hargon crap!” Shre exclaimed. “As if we
would trust you.”

“We can trust him,” Kleb intervened. “Master
Tarken is a good man. In the solars he’s been slavemaster, he has
been kind to us, never using the slave bands without cause. In
fact, rarely has he used it, and even when he did, the dose was so
mild it was barely effective. Now that I think on it, the
slavemaster only seemed to use the bands to stay an unruly slave
who’d snapped and was becoming violent. It was more typical that he
found alternate means of reprimand.”

“Pain as punishment has always been
distasteful to me.” Tarken glanced toward Cushla.

Her gaze averted his, her lips pursing.

He could see she was still angry.

“And what do you think?” Ayia asked Cushla.
“You spent a significant amount of time with him. Should we release
him?”

Tarken groaned silently. If timing for the
posed question could be any worse…

“Hmm…” Cushla tapped her lips with an index
finger. She then paced back and forth across the room as if deeply
considering it, ignoring Tarken’s narrowing gaze. “I’m not sure.”
Cushla then glanced at Tarken but her gaze quickly snapped away.
“Killing him might be too harsh, but we could torture and beat
him.” There was a definite gleam in her eye as she said it.

“Cushla,” Tarken chided as he could plainly
see that she was enjoying this far too much. He recognized that
gleam as he’d grown both familiar and fond of that very trait in
this gorgeous slave. “I can help you.” His tone soft and sincere,
“I
want
to help you.”

Silence followed his heartfelt
declaration.

Kleb finally nodded. “I believe him. Many
times over, he has found ways around the multiple of injustices the
king has ordered upon the slaves. I myself have benefited from that
and I would trust the master with my life, and I believe he is an
honorable man.”

Shre slowly lowered her stunner, and Kleb,
who still had hold of her wrist, released it.

“I think we should free him,” Ayia concurred
and glanced over at Cushla.

The beautiful slave returned nothing more
than a shrug.

Well, at least she didn’t protest.

Shre shoved her stunner to the harness on
her hip. “We’re running out of time, and it seems I’m outnumbered.
We’ll have to trust him.” Moving to the back of the chair, she
unlocked the cuffs.

Tarken brought his arms forward and rubbed
his wrists while rolling and stretching his shoulders.

While he was attempting to ease the
cramping, Shre bent and sent a hard warning to his ear. “Hear this,
slavemaster. If for one moment you hinder us, our intended fate for
Mecor will also become yours.”

“Noted.” He stood and immediately approached
Cushla. “The thought that I might never see you again was the worst
of my night fears…” He reached out to touch her but thought better
of it for the moment. “I never meant to give you cause to
doubt—”

A crack broke his words as she delivered a
stinging smack to the side of his face, his head jerking slightly
with the impact. Righting his head, he stared at her.

The fire that lit in her eyes was a clear
signal that she was still quite furious. That, and the fact she
clenched her teeth like a wild arangazin beast, her nostrils
flaring.

He was sure she was about to hoof the floor
and charge at him.

“Your worst night fear will be me—if you
ever
use the slave band on me again,” Cushla growled.
Pivoting, she stalked to the opposite side of the room, putting a
large amount of space between them. “Do not ever touch me again,
Tarken.”

“Well, if you two love birds are finished
playing,” Ayia snorted with humor.

Though his heart was sinking, Tarken thought
better of trying to plead with Cushla further, of telling her his
true feelings for her. It would have to wait. He turned to the
others. “Tell me of these plans.”

At first no one spoke, as if they were still
reluctant to include him, so Tarken took a seat at the table and
held out his hand to indicate another empty chair, inviting them to
join him.

It was Ayia who accepted first, taking a
seat at the table. “It will be a two prong attack,” she began and
then gazed at Shre. “Give me the compu-pad.”

Shre twisted her mouth to one side,
hesitated and then she too took a seat at the table. She pulled a
compu-pad from her pocket, opened it and slid it along the table
top toward Tarken. Leaning back in the chair, she folded her arms
and sighed.

Picking up the pad, Tarken gazed at the
secured screen. “The code?” he queried.

With a huff, Shre snatched it back from him.
“I still have misgivings about this,” she mumbled, tapped the
screen a few times and slid it back toward him.

Tarken stopped it with his hand again.
Picking up the device, he examined the screen. On it, there were
maps, strategic diagrams, and the various plans they’d established.
Upon studying the contents further, he concluded that their plan
was well thought out and complex. Just as good as highly trained
military commanders would’ve schemed. He was relieved that they
seemed to know what they were doing.

Ayia leaned over and tapped a drawing on the
screen. “The slaves will attack from inside the grounds against the
guards there.” She pointed. “And we have another group that will
attack from outside the gates. Now, tell us how you will initiate
the deactivation of the slave bands.”

“Beneath the floorboard in my quarters there
is a panel that controls the bands and the belts…”

“I thought you said it wasn’t in your
quarters?” Shre gave him an accusatory look. “Lying already?”

“Beneath the floorboards is not inside of my
quarters, Vialin.” Tarken stared at her and then paused before
continuing, “Do you want my help or not?”

“Just shut up about it and continue,” Ayia
chimed in.

“I have access to the sub panel,” Tarken
went on. “The master panel, which has the capability of overriding
mine, is inside the palace itself. I can get to the one in my
quarters easily enough, but getting to the other one might be a
little trickier, especially if Mecor sees me in the castle
uninvited. He might suspect that something is amiss. If Rube is
able to create a diversion from inside the castle, I can attempt to
get to it, but I will still need to find a way in, where I will not
be seen.”

“There are secret passages all over the
palace,” Cushla volunteered while still facing away from him. “I
can show you.”

“Your father is aware of them,” Ayia stated.
“He’s agreed to take care of that.”

While they continued to discuss the plans,
Tarken occasionally glanced in Cushla’s direction, hoping she would
turn around so he could glimpse her beautiful face, to give him
encouragement for this risky undertaking. There were lives at risk
here including his own, but he needed to do this—for her, for her
freedom, and that of the oppressed and tormented Buranis yes, but
still mostly for her—and the future he wanted to live with her.

“Alright then,” Shre said as they concluded
the planning. “Let’s make sure everything and everybody is in
place.”

When they prepared to leave, it was then
that Cushla decided to face them. “And what about me? What am I
supposed to do?”

“You will stay put,” Tarken commanded.
Blasted starfires…
He gave himself a mental kick in the ass.
If he ever wanted her to forgive him the last thing he should’ve
done was make a demand of her
.

“Like demon’s hell…I’m staying here!” She
crossed her arms over her chest. Scorn was the only name he could
give the expression on her face as she glared at him.

“Lippy for a slave isn’t she?” Shre
snickered.

Kleb broke in at that moment,
“Granddaughter, it would be better if you did stay here out of
harm’s way.

She gaped at him. “I hate Mecor as much as
you all do, and I am no longer a child. I want to be a part in his
annihilation. Aside from that…look what happened the last time I
was supposedly safe.” She pointed up at her slave band.

“I know little bird,” Kleb continued, “but
it’s different this time.”

“I agree,” Ayia spoke up, “Cushla, it would
be better if you did stay here, in case your father returns. We’ll
need him to know of the slavemaster’s involvement and that we’ve
moved on to the next phase.”

“Fine.” Cushla crossed one arm over the
other, though she eyed them angrily.

Tarken was relieved they were all in
agreement that she should remain behind and safe. He could only
pray that he too, would be able to safely return to her, that they
would all be safe, and the loss of lives would be few.

Chapter Twenty Four

“You fucking dust wipe!” Bazil tightened his
fist around the material of Rube’s vest and jerked the royal toward
him. His nostrils flared, their faces nearly touching. “How dare
you lure me further into this plot! I told you, I told Shre Valin,
Ayia and the rest of your rebel lot that I want nothing to do with
this. I’m not a citizen of Buranis but was only hired by Jansee
Mecor—”

“Yes, yes.” Rube waved a nonchalant hand
through the air. “I know your story. You were a scientist and the
personal physician for Anzer’s brother and when he was overthrown
you had no intention of staying. No need to repeat yourself,
Bazil.”

Bazil’s fist tightened on Rube’s lapel, and
he gnashed his teeth in irritation. “You have the matrix of secret
tunnels on your compu-pad, Rube. So do Ayia and Vialin. I’ve done
what you asked.”

“I cannot open them all myself.” Rube
shrugged his shoulders.

“That’s not my problem!” Bazil growled. “Get
one of your rebels to help. I have but one goal now, getting my
daughter safely off this hell blazing planet. If anything happens
to her—”

“As I’ve told you, Bazil, your daughter is
safe,” Rube replied. “And being unfamiliar, it will be difficult
for me to locate the passages. You already know where they
are.”

“A-a-gh!” He pushed Rube away, watching him
stumble a bit before re-balancing his stance. Pivoting, Bazil put
his back to the royal. “There’s more at stake than the liberation
of Buranis.”

“You will assist us further then?”

“I swear to you, royal, if this plan goes
awry and I am forced to alter the muartzin stones, I will have your
balls on a slab and fed to the crizzy beast for supper.” Dragging
his fingers through his hair, Bazil turned to face Rube again. He
was thoroughly irritated and fed up. He wanted it to be done with
this! He wanted off this piss-poor, dump of a planet, take his
daughter and go home. Inhaling, Bazil calmed himself and continued,
“Do you really want to risk letting such a lethal weapon fall into
Mecor’s hands?”

“What lethal weapon might that be?”

Rube and Bazil both snapped their heads
toward the intruder who’d just spoken.

“Who the hell let you loose?” Bazil stalked
toward Tarken. “How much did you hear?” Drawing his stunner, he
pressed it upward and into Tarken’s nostrils causing his nose to
crinkle.

“I’m getting very weary of having weapons
pointed at my person, Bazil.” Tarken wrapped his hand around the
barrel and moved it aside. “If the horde of you is so reluctant to
shoot, perhaps you should ditch this asinine rebellion, less you
all perish.”

Rube chuckled and leaned against the stone
wall surrounding the perimeter of the castle. “Friend or foe
slavemaster?”

Tarken folded his arms across his chest.
“That would depend on which side you are on.”

“Which side do you think I’m on?” Rube gave
him a side-long look.

“I’m speculating you’re the man inside?”

Rube returned a smirk. “I might be.”

“Well since it was Kleb, who convinced
Vialin and Ayia to set me free, I suppose that makes me a…” Tarken
hesitated. “An acquaintance.”

“How much do you know?” Bazil asked, he
scanned the top of the wall and then pulled his time piece checking
to see how close they were to passing of the guards.

“Almost everything, though I failed to ask
your role in this because of the lack of time.” Tarken scanned the
wall as well and he too, checked his time piece before returning it
to his pocket. “We have a bit of time.” His eyes lowered to gaze at
Bazil. “Now, what is your role in this, Cushla’s role? What do the
muartzin stones have to do with you?”

“Where’s my daughter slavemaster?” Bazil
rubbed his forehead. “Is she safe?”

“We left her in town. Told her to stay put,”
Kleb informed his son. “She was insisting on accompanying us, but
we needed to keep her safe, so I told her it was imperative to
await your return while we informed you that the next phase was
being initiated.”

“Now, what of the stones?” Tarken angled his
head and stared at Bazil.

“We don’t have time for this,” Rube
protested.

Tarken’s gaze shifted to the royal. He
fingered the stunner strapped to his thigh. “I could always query
Mecor about it.” His attention returned to Bazil. “Let him know
you’re on the planet.”