Furies of Calderon (41 page)

Isana heard a woman’s voice say, “Wake up. Wake u
p
.” Someone slapped her face, sudden and sharp. Isana let out a surprised sound and lifted her arms in an effort to protect her face. That same voice continued, just as before, “Wake up. Wake up,” and slapped her at measured intervals until Isana curled away from the blows, rolling to get her hands and knees beneath her, and to lift her head.

Isana felt hot. Sweltering. Her skin had soaked with sweat, and her clothes clung to her, likewise damp. Light was in her eyes, and it took her a moment to realize that she was on a dirt floor, that there was fire all around her, fire in a circle perhaps twenty feet across, a ring of coals and tinder that smoldered and smoked. Her throat and lungs burned with thirst, with the smoke, and she coughed until she almost retched.

She covered her mouth with her shaking hand, tried to filter out some of the smoke and dust in the air as she breathed. Someone helped her sit up, hands brisk, strong.

“Thank you,” she rasped. Isana looked up to see the woman she’d seen in the Rillwater, strangling Tavi. She was beautiful, dark of hair and eye, curved as sweetly as any man could desire. Her hair hung in damp, sweaty curls, though, and her face had been smudged with soot. The skin, in rows that reached across her eyes, was bright pink, shiny and new. A small smile curved her full mouth.

Isana hissed out a breath in surprise, backing away from the woman, looking around her, at the fires, a low ceiling, smooth, round stone walls not far beyond the ring of coals. There was a door leading out, and Isana tried to stand and move toward it, only to find that her legs would not obey her properly. She stumbled and fell heavily onto her side, near enough to the coals that her skin heated painfully. She pushed herself back from the fire.

The woman helped, dragging Isana back with a cool efficiency.

“Nasty, nasty,” the woman said. “You must be careful, or you’ll burn.”

She sat back from Isana, tilting her head to one side and studying her. “My name is Odiana,” she said then. “And you and I are prisoners together.”

“Prisoners,” Isana whispered. Her voice came out in a croak, and she had to cough painfully. “Prisoners where? What’s wrong with my legs?”

“Kord-holt, I think they called it,” Odiana said. “You’re experiencing crafting sickness. When Kord found you by the banks of the flood, your head was broken. They made me mend it.”

“You?” Isana asked. “But you were trying to hurt Tavi.”

“The pretty boy?” Odiana asked. “I wasn’t hurting him. I was killing him. There’s a difference.” She sniffed and said, “It wasn’t anything personal.”

“Tavi,” Isana said, coughing again. “Is Tavi all right?”

“How should I know?” Odiana said, her tone faintly impatient. “You tore my eyes out, woman. The next thing I saw was that ugly brute.”

“Then you’re not—” Isana shook her head. “Kord took you prisoner?”

She nodded, once. “He found me after the flood. I had just put my eyes back together.” Odiana smiled. “I’ve never managed my nails like that before. You’ll have to show me how it’s done.”

Odiana let out an impatient sigh. “No,” she said. “Don’t be an idiot. He’s ringed us in fire. Dried us out. Your fury cannot hear you, and even if it could, you’d not be able to dampen a washcloth.”

Isana shivered, and for the first time since she’d found Rill, she felt no quivering response to her call, no reassuring presence of the water fury. Isana swallowed, eyes shifting around the interior of the building. Meat hung from hooks on some of the walls, and smoke lingered in the air. A smokehouse then, at Kord’s stead-holt.

She was a prisoner at Kord’s stead-holt.

The thought chilled her, sent a quiver creeping along her scalp, to the roots of her hair.

Odiana watched her in silence and then nodded, slowly. “He doesn’t intend for us to ever leave this place, you know. I felt that in him before he brought us here.”

“I’m thirsty,” Isana said. “Hot enough to kill us in here. I have to get a drink.”

“They left us two tiny cups of water,” Odiana said, nodding to the far side of the circle.

Isana looked until she saw the pair of wooden cups and pulled herself to them. The first she picked up was light, empty. She dropped it to one side, her throat on fire, and tried the second.

Odiana shook her head slowly and spoke in a cool, passionless, practical tone. “Do you think they’ve never done this before? This is what slavers
do
, hold-girl. They left enough to keep us alive. Not enough to allow one of us full use of her fury. I’d try, it wouldn’t work, and they’d punish both of us.”

“You’re a
child
,” Odiana hissed. “Do you know how many slaves are raped within a day or so of capture?”

Odiana smiled. “Take it from me. You only get to resist once. And after that, they make sure that you never want to try it again.”

Isana stared at the woman for a long moment. Then she said, “How long were you a slave?”

Odiana brushed her hair back away from her face with one hand and said, voice cool, “When I was eleven, our Stead-holder sold my father’s debt to a group of slavers. They took all of us. They killed my father and my oldest brother, and the baby. They took my mother, my sisters, me. And my youngest brother. He was pretty.” Her eyes grew distant, and she focused them on the far wall. Fire glowed in them, reflection. “I was too young. I hadn’t begun my cycle, or come into my fury-crafting. But I did that night. When they took me. Passed me around the fire like a flask of wine. It woke up, and I could feel
everything
they felt, hold-girl. All of their lust and their hate and fear and hunger. It washed through me.
Into
me.” She began to rock back and forth on her heels. “I don’t know how you came into yours, water-crafter. When you first started feeling other folk. But you must thank all the furies of Carna that it wasn’t like my awakening.” The smile crept back to her lips. “It’s enough to drive one mad.”

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, hold-girl, 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.”

“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.”

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