WindBeliever (43 page)

“His back is scarred?” she asked, putting down the glass, unmindful that the lips of the young man beside her were dripping with red wine.

“Yes,” Kharis answered. He was puzzled at the strange look on his mistress’ face.

Sabrina stood up and stared at her servant. “And which cheek is it that is scarred? His right?”

Kharis shook his head. “I am told his left.”

“Twin scars, from the inside of his left eye to his ear?”

A dark scowl crossed Kharis’ face. “I have no way of knowing.”

“Go look!” Sabrina ordered. When her servant nodded and made to leave, she stopped him.

“And check the back of his sword hand, the right hand. Tell me what you find there.” If he had been puzzled before, Kharis was even more mystified by her next request. “If you find a tattoo on his hand, let no one purchase him before I have seen him, Kharis. Under penalty of punishment, do not!”

Kharis nodded again and left for the warehouse where new slaves were kept, his thoughts a jumble of surprise.

Sabrina stared at the door out of which her servant had exited for a long moment. Her heart was racing inside her chest and she could hear the blood pounding behind her temples.

“It can’t be,” she said in a whisper. “It isn’t possible.”

Chase Montyne watched the black woman, wishing she would come back and touch him, put her gentle hands on him and smooth away the fear her excited words had caused him. He grunted, striving to gain her attention, and was immediately relieved when she turned back around and looked at him with the tenderness with which she had been soothing him all week.

His expression turned from anxious to content when she came back to sit down beside him.

“If it is him, Sirocco, I dare not let him see you.”

A shaft of fear drove through Chase Montyne’s heart and he reached out for her, clasping her WINDBELIEVER

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waist as he laid his head in her lap. He grunted his agreement, not understanding of whom she was speaking, but fearing him, nevertheless, connecting him with the man who had brutalized him.

“Do not worry, my sweet wind. I will keep you safe,” she whispered to him, bending down to put a light kiss on his cheek.

He reached up for a thick braid of her coarse black hair and brought it to his mouth, kissing it as though it were a precious religious icon.

“If it is him, I will keep him safe, too.”

Kharis stared through the mesh of the cage at the slave. He had to crane his neck to see the right hand that was held in the clamp of the yoke, annoyed that the back of that hand was pressed tightly to the wooden bar.

“May I see his right hand?” Kharis asked.

“His hand?” Lord Khan inquired. “Why?”

“I am to look at his hand,” Kharis said. He need not give the slave trader an explanation. The Lady Sabrina paid good money for her slaves.

Lord Khan stared at Khan for a moment and then shrugged. “Open the door, Harim.”

Harim unlocked the cage door, lowered the slave, and then allowed Kharis to enter. He paid close attention to the Lady Sabrina’s servant as the man unlocked the slave’s wrist and turned his hand over to see the back of it. He saw a strange expression of concern flit across Kharis’ face before the man re-clamped the limp wrist to the yoke. He waited until Kharis had left the holding cell before he hoisted the slave up again.

“I have been instructed to ask that you not to sell this particular slave until Her Ladyship can view him.” Kharis reached into his caftan and drew out a holding fee. “Will one hundred gold Ryals be enough to secure him?”

Harim folded his arms over his chest, half-listening to his master bargaining with Lady Sabrina’s man. His gaze was intent on the slave. He wasn’t even aware of Kharis leaving until Lord Khan spoke to him.

“Why would she want this one?” Khan asked. He viewed the man in the holding cell as little more than a nuisance. He had not thought to get even a hundred for him and wasn’t sure Sabrina would buy him although it meant she would lose her security deposit.

“Who knows what her criteria is?” Harim asked.

“Well, at any rate, I want him sold to the highest bidder tomorrow at noon.” Khan turned to go. “Are you coming?”

Harim shook his head. “No.” He had seen the strange tattoo that Kharis had seen, but unlike Kharis, he knew what the strange bisecting lines meant. “There is something I need to attend to.”

Khan shrugged. “As you wish.”

Harim’s inner voice was telling him this man in the cage might well be worth more than what Sabrina would pay for him for her farm. He glanced at Habi. “Did I not hear that Prince Guil Ben-Shanar Gehdrin is here?”

Habi nodded. “His ship docked two weeks ago and he has yet to leave. His man will be at the auction today. They will be buying slaves for their quarry.”

Harim looked back at the blond slave. “Where is His Grace staying?”

“With his cousin, Prince Hedron.” Habi thought the look on the slave warden’s face seemed entirely too smug. “Why?”

Harim smiled. “No particular reason.” He glanced around at the eastern wall where hopeless WINDBELIEVER

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faces peered back at him. “I am sure we will rid ourselves of quite a few slaves this day.” He looked back at the blond man who was just beginning to stir inside the holding cell. He grinned.

“Quite a few.” Harim chuckled.

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Sabrina outdistanced Kharis as she hurried toward the slave auctioning arena where her servant had told her the blond slave would be sold. Her legs pumped furiously beneath the multi-colored cotton caftan and she had a set and determined look on her broad black face that made others step out of her way with arched brows.

“In a hurry, Lady Sabrina?” someone called out to her as she passed. “A goodly assortment in today?”

There was raucous laughter and elbows jabbed into sides as she hurried on her way, but the lady ignored them, her purpose clear, her heart skipping beats as she plowed through the gathering crowd of buyers.

“There is a tattoo on his hand as you suspected,” Kharis had told her. “Two lines which look like ....”

“A bird in flight,” she answered, her eyes intent on her servant’s face.

Kharis sighed. “Yes.” He had studied her, watching the expression that had alarmed him further. “What does it mean, Sabrina? Who is this man?”

But Sabrina refused to answer.

“What will you sell that Ionarian for, Lady Sabrina?” a woman yelled out to her as Sabrina neared the auction block. “I will pay twenty Luens for the pleasure of his company!”

“Bitch,” Sabrina hissed as she elbowed her way to the front of the crowd. Relieved that the auction had not begun, she reached out to clutch Kharis’ arm in a death grip as he reached her side. “You did pay Khan a holding fee, did you not?”

Kharis sighed. “Yes. I told you I did.”

It was not easy standing there with Sabrina, he thought as each new slave was brought up on the block. Each time a new man was thrust up there, she would dig her nails into his arm until it was obvious it was not the man she had come to buy.

“Where is he?” she asked a thousand times.

“Since you plan on buying him,” Kharis had explained in his most pleasant voice, “what difference does it make?”

And when the blond slave had been brought out, struggling like a wild animal as he was thrust naked onto the block, Kharis had felt Sabrina’s wicked nails gouging into his arm like dagger points.

“Look!” she gasped, her face filling with absolute fury. “Look what they would dare do to him!”

There were those in the crowd that day that were shocked and dismayed that a slave had been brought before the crowd in such a condition. That he was naked was of little consequence since most were divested of their clothing before the buyers, anyway. But this one was shackled, manacled hand and foot, his arms stretched into the confinement of a wooden yoke used only for the most dangerous of slaves and never used for the slaves sold from this arena. Two burly guards lifted him and hooked the restraining yoke between two uprights, then knelt to shackle his feet to the wooden platform.

“Why is he gagged, Hiram?” a man called out from the crowd.

“He can’t control his tongue!” Hiram answered, laughing. “So, I controlled it for him!”

Laughter broke out and many pointed at the slave who was thrashing furiously, doing his best to get free.

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“It’s a good thing you hobbled him, Hiram!” someone else shouted.

“If Sabrina’s here to buy him, he’ll get used to it soon enough!”

The crowd erupted into vengeful laughter that made Sabrina swing her head about, her eyes flashing fire at those gathered. She had never been so angry in her life and it showed on her dark face.

“You buying him for yourself, Sabrina?” a woman taunted.

Kharis was watching the blond slave, seeing humiliation and fury alternately taking control of his face. The dark sapphire glare was awesome to behold. It fairly sparked with lethal intent at those who were ogling him. The crowd’s laughter and taunting, the fingers pointing at his more than adequate anatomy had brought a furious red glow to the man’s face and he was sucking in his breath so harshly through the restriction of the gag, the fabric moved in and out with each breath.

“I’d like to get MY hands on him!” one of the women in the crowd yelled out. “I’d stake him down and make him beg for mercy!”

Sabrina was quivering, her insides like jelly. She turned away from the jeering of the crowd and looked up into the humiliated and enraged face of the man on the auction block. He was not looking at her, but she knew the gleam in those dark eyes boded ill for anyone who dared buy him.

“Are you sure you want him, Sabrina?” Kharis asked, bending down so she could hear him above the ribald remarks and coarse innuendoes. He was deeply concerned by the look on his mistress’ face.

“I have to,” Sabrina breathed. “I have no choice.”

“Get on with the auction!” a bold voice shouted above the den and heads turned to see a member of the royalty striding forward, pushing people out of his way.

Harim smiled. “Good morning, Prince Guil. Will you be bidding on this slave?”

Conar swung his head toward the man who had pushed his way to the edge of the auction block. He did not know the man, but there was something in the way the man stared at him that put his hackles up.

“Five hundred Ryals,” Guil said, staring into Conar McGregor’s eyes with revenge. He massaged his broken arm, adjusting the splint. “He’s not worth it, but that is my bid.”

Sabrina frowned, sensing something that was beyond her understanding here. She looked from the eager, knowing face of the Rysalian prince to the auctioneer. “Six hundred,” she bid.

Conar flicked his furious glance over the woman who had dared bid for him. He grunted with contempt beneath the gag and was not surprised when the man bid again.

“Seven

hundred.”

“Eight.”

Prince Guil turned to glare at the black woman. “Nine.”

Sabrina’s chin went up. “One thousand.”

There were surprised looks in the crowd. Was the man on the block really worth that much to Sabrina? Women turned to stare at the blond slave, assessing him as they had not before. Men shook their heads, wondering what Sabrina saw.

Guil’s lips rose in disgust before he turned back to the auctioneer. “Fifteen hundred.”

A rumble went through those gathered.

Conar’s eyes narrowed. The man was willing to pay a lot to have him and that didn’t bode well. There was cruelty in the man’s gaze and a hardness to his mouth that suggested he was anxious to make this purchase and be done with it.

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“Two

thousand.”

As the crowd rumbled again, louder now, Conar turned his attention back to the black woman and his stare lowered. To his way of thinking, she was staring back at him, her dark gaze gleaming with lust. Boldly, her scrutiny was sliding over him, stopping now and then at his shoulders, his chest, lingering insultingly too long at the juncture of his thighs.

“Twenty-five,” Prince Guil shouted.

Heads turned from Prince Guil’s bored expression to the man who had stopped struggling on the auction block and was staring down at the Rysalian prince with hatred.

“Three

thousand.”

Heads swung to the Lady Sabrina.

Conar watched the woman wet her lips as her eyes crawled slowly up him again to fasten on his face. He felt unclean, degraded, unmanned as she fused her haughty stare with his furious one.

“Thirty-five,” the man shouted, annoyance beginning to sound in his harsh voice.

Those gathered looked back to the Lady Sabrina and were not surprised to see a smug smile on her thick lips.

“Four thousand,” Sabrina bid.

His blood ran cold as that slow, nasty smile pulled at the woman’s purple-tinged lips. Why did she want him so badly? The man, he could see. There was something in the man’s dark gaze that said he would enjoy breaking him. But the woman?

“Five!” Guil bellowed.

“Six,” Sabrina countered.

Conar had no idea what slaves were worth, but obviously that was a lot for a gasp had gone through the crowd and all speech had stopped. People were no longer looking at him, but shifting their attention between the two bidders who were glaring at one another.

“Any other bids?” Harim called out, stepping in front of the auctioneer.

“Seven,” the man in the black burnoose snarled. He flicked his angry gaze to Conar. “Seven thousand Ryals!”

Conar flinched as the woman’s smile grew nastier. “Eight thousand.”

Eyes leapt back to the man.

“Prince Guil?” the auctioneer questioned.

Guil tore his gaze from Conar to the black woman. “Ten thousand Ryals!” he shouted.

You want me very badly, don’t you? Conar thought, wondering what tortures this man would inflict on him. He almost wished the woman would win in the bidding war although he thought there well might be only one part of his anatomy she’d torture.