Sold To The Master Page 2

  As the day continues more women are brought to the cage, and soon there is standing room only. A quick count tells me there are two dozen of us crammed in the confined space, and I think he can’t possibly be buying more, though he does, two more women being forced in, the rest of us shuffling, in whatever small way we can, to accommodate the newcomers.

  By evening, my legs are aching from standing, and I’m so tired. I just want to lay down and sleep.

  Finally he returns, double checks the bolt on the door, and before our eyes shifts into one of the largest creature I’ve ever seen.

  It takes a moment to realize that the thick scaly legs before me belong to a dragon. When I do, my first thought is that must be his wings that create the energy amassing above his shoulders, all that power and force needed in that area. It doesn’t occur to me exactly what it means that he’s taken dragon shape—it’s only when he flaps those wings and lifts up into the sky that I realise he’s flying home, and so of course, we must be flying home too.

  The flap of his wings sets everything around us flying. Loose strands of hair, having worked free after a day of movement, tickle my neck and face, and our clothes flick against our skin.

  I feel naked. The material of my clothing is so thin I honestly feel like I’m wearing nothing at all, and it’s so, damned, cold.

  I watch him hovering in the air above us. It’s a magnificent sight, though I’d probably appreciate it more if I hadn’t just become his slave.

  What can a dragon man do, that human men can’t?

  What extra strength does he have, what extra power?

  A shudder tears down y spine at the thought, and I swallow back the lump of fear in my throat.

  I can’t help but think about the consequences of spell casting, and wonder if this time, I might die from the things he might ask.

  Is this going to be my last Master, ever?

  He wraps his claws around the cage, sharp points gripping between the bars so we have to duck out of the way to avoid being scratched or stabbed. Then he lifts us up, squeals and screams of surprise emerging from the group.

  Caught on the edge of all the women, I bear the brunt of the cold wind, icy fingers passing easily through the thin fabric I’m wearing. If I thought I was cold before, that was nothing compared to what it’s like now, flying high in the sky, above the towns, and over forests and rivers.

  It would be beautiful, if I could experience it any other way.

  But instead of taking the time to admire the view, I’m focused on the cage, completely envious of the women in the middle of the group, who must surely be warmer than me, with all the bodies pressed around them.

  I see a woman near me crying, and wish I could reach out and comfort her, but she’s two people away, and I can’t reach her, even to squeeze a shoulder.

  Those of us who can, grip the bars, and when the cage lurches I feel a hand grip my shoulder.

  The flight seems to last the night, shivering and shuddering as we are, but when we finally arrive at our destination the moon has barely moved in the sky.

  We’re dumped unceremoniously into a walled yard, our new dragon master flying off, presumably to warm comfortable rooms of his own.

  Instead, we have a barn to sleep in, the floor covered with fresh straw, for which I’m grateful, a pile of blankets on a low shelf in one corner.

  But straw and the single blanket I’m allowed don’t provide much warmth, and with no door the wind blows through unfettered, and we all shiver the night away.

  I’m certain I’ll never sleep, but I must do, because the movement of bodies around me wakes me up to the faintest hint of sunshine pushing through thick clouds.

  It’s going to be a cold day.

  A voice calls for silence, and I glance up to see a woman standing by a door none of us noticed the previous night.

  She demands we tidy the room, and put away the blankets, and then we’re taken from the room in small groups, I guess to be assigned our new roles, whatever they may be.

  I’m jealous of these women, and what they might be asked to do.

  It certainly won’t be the things I’ll be asked. To make a man a million dollars, or destroy his enemies, or make him ruler of all the lands.

  All impossible things. And just like the last master, I’ll have to break it to this one that magic has a cost, and that cost is taken from the person requesting the spell, not the person casting it, and all of those requests have costs far higher than anyone is willing to pay.

  Because that’s the one thing my master’s have never been asked.

  Why are you selling an all powerful witch?

  If potential buyers asked that question, and if they got an honest answer, they’d learn that my power isn’t a free pass to do whatever a master wishes. It comes with consequences. It’s dangerous.

  But no one thinks to ask that question. They see the power I could give them, and they grab it, and waste a fortune on it, and that leaves me the brunt of their frustrations because they didn’t bother to do their research properly in the first place.

  As expected, when I’m called up, I’m taken straight to the Master’s private rooms.

  He’s in a large comfortable chair, and I have the briefest sense of something strange in his energy before I am instructed to kneel before him, and place my forehead on the ground, and not speak unless spoken to.

  It’s only marginally different from my last master, who also demanded we kneel, and keep our eyes lowered, and not speak unless spoken to.

  I grit my teeth. I’m going to find a way out of this, this time. If it’s the last thing I do.

  Chapter 2

  “Eyes up!”

  The order is barked, and if it weren’t for the completely different voice this one has, I’d almost think I’d dreamt the entire auction and that I was back in my former master’s home, waiting to do his bidding.

  I raise my gaze to meet his, his dark eyes glittering as he looks me up and down. I have a moment to note there something strange about the energy is focused around his abdomen, though I don’t have time to consider it any further before he’s questioning me again.

  “Tell me. How exactly does your magic work? What can you do? The auctioneer spoke of riches, and wealth, immortality and the like.” He leans forward in his chair, his gaze burning into mine. “Sounds all much too good to be true.”

  This is a surprise. And a welcome one at that.

  He’s not expecting miracles.

  “I can’t make you immortal, or pass my powers on to you or another person. I can make you richer. I can strike down some enemies. But everything comes with a cost. Energy never increases in quantity, it just changes form. There has to be give and take, so if you are taking something, you have to give something else back.”

  The master narrows his eyes.

  “Give me an example.”

  I go with the easiest. “A previous master wanted to become a multi-millionaire. The payment for that was thirty years cut off his life span, giving him only two years to enjoy his money.”

  “And who decides these payments? You?”

  “Me?” I shake my head. “No. These laws are older than you or me. They’re set in stone. They’re the laws of the universe. I don’t decide anything.”

  “But can you tell, before a spell is cast, what it’s going to cost?”

  I nod. “I can divine what the cost will be.”

  “And you never bear the brunt of the cost?”

  I hold his gaze. “I am the conduit, not the intent. The person whose intent it is for me to cast a spell is the person who pays the price. And as you are the person who holds the key to my magic—” I nod to the silver scroll case, which I see he has clipped to his belt. “Then you are the only person who can use my magic, and as such, you are the only one who will pay the price.”

  He lifts the case, holding it in his hand as though checking its weight.

  “Hmm,” he says, watching me. His eyes seem to bore deep into my ve
ry soul, but I refuse to look away. I remember how people shied away from me in the marketplace. If he doesn’t like my attitude he’ll have to beat it out of me.

  I just hope he’s not the beating type.

  Finally he shakes his head, slumping back in his chair. “A waste of money then.”

  I don’t know whether that means he’s not going to make use of my powers, and I should be relieved, or if it means worse.

  He gives a short sharp laugh. “I knew something was up, when he said you could create dragon shifters.” He leans forward, watching me. “Or is that bit true?”

  I shrug. “I’ve never been asked to turn someone into a dragon shifter,” I admit. “But I don’t think it could be done.”

  “Mm...” He narrows his eyes. “Magic is a strange and powerful thing, but it seems to me that human shifters were created only when dragons with great power chose to take human form, and mate with a human woman. From then on the power has been passed from father to child. And I don’t see that an insignificant human witch would have the same power as a great dragon.”

  For some reason his words offend me. “I don’t have power.” I narrow my eyes, holding his gaze. “I guide power from somewhere else. I might be smaller in size than a dragon, but that doesn’t mean I can’t guide the same amount of power.”

  He raises an eyebrow. “Feisty.” He sighs. “Still, no good to me as a witch.” His eyes roam over my body as he considers what to do with me, and my heart feels like stone in my chest.

  Am I going to be resold? Or used for some other purpose? And which could possibly be worse?

  He glances at the guard by the door.

  “Take her to the stakes.”

  My heart seems to freeze in my chest.

  “The stakes?” I can’t help but question him. Fear propels the words out of my mouth before I have the chance to stop it. “Are you going to burn me?”

  He frowns. “I have just spent a significant amount of money to purchase you. Why would I burn you?”

  I swallow, cursing myself for showing fear. “You said to take me to the stakes. I thought—”

  He raises an eyebrow, and I’m certain I can see laughter in his eyes. “I know the peasants are all keen to burn as many witches as they can, but in case you hadn’t noticed, there are a shortage of women in this world. I hardly think it sensible to burn the ones we have because they might have some sort of power. Besides which—” He taps the silver case. “Your power is completely under my control, so you are no threat to me, or anyone else. Why would I burn a perfectly healthy woman, when I can breed her instead.”

  My eyes widen in understanding, and now my heart sinks.

  “So,” he continues. “You shall be going to the stalls, where you will tidy yourself up, and tonight when I come through to make my selection you might just be lucky enough to be picked to carry my future heir.”

  My heart is pounding in my ears. He said stalls, not stakes. I’m not going to be burnt alive. I can’t help but feel a rush of relief. Though sometimes I do wonder if it might be better to be dead, I guess I don’t really want to die, just yet. Especially not by such a painful method.

  But is being bred any better? Bringing a child into an already fucked-up world?

  The thought arises that it’s just the same as magic, just in a different form, bringing something through my body, and into this world, for someone else to claim.

  The guard pulls my arm, and I let him lead me out of the room, and through the castle to the stalls.

  Once I get there I find myself in a dormitory, single beds lining the walls, each one with a chest at the end where I’m to store the fresh clothes they will bring me. I’m shown the bathroom, and told that whoever can carry the master’s children to term will be richly rewarded. They’ll have their own bedroom, with their own bathroom, and their own servants. And if such a woman continues to give the master children, she will in time be given her freedom.

  The guard leaves, and I snort.

  “As if we’re going to wait that long for our freedom.”

  “You think you can find freedom any other way?” A voice speaks up behind me, and I turn to see a particularly attractive woman sneering at me.

  “How many times will we have to fuck him before we fall pregnant?” I ask. “And then there’s nine months until the baby is born, and then what? Surely he’ll want us to raise that baby, before he impregnates us again. And how many babies will be enough? It’ll be decades before you’re free.”

  “Better decades than never at all.”

  Cynical laughter breaks up our argument, and we all turn to see a slightly older woman leaning against in doorway. Despite the grey hairs and frown lines, she looks marginally happier than most slaves I’ve ever seen, and for some reason this lifts my spirits a little.

  “Ain’t none of us ever getting out of here, girls. So I’d quit your arguing about it. Save your energy for something else.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask.

  The older woman shakes her head at me. “Master Sidney’s infertile. All the brothers are. Don’t matter how many times he plants his seed, it ain’t ever gonna grow. So I’d get used to just laying back and taking it, and be grateful he’s found as many women on this trip as he has. At least you won’t be stuck with him riding you every night.”

  The room falls silent at her words. I really don’t want it to be true, but I remember how strange his energy was when I entered the room, and I know she’s right. He’s weaker, because he can’t create children, no matter how many women he collects.

  The older woman stands up straight.

  “Names Darla,” she says. “Let me show you around.”

  All ten of us follow her down the hall, listening as she points out the dining hall, and gives us times for meals, and the rec room, where there are is a woman reading, and two playing eightball.

  “Your days will be pleasant enough here for a while. Master Sidney looks after his breeders. Wants to ensure healthy children, see? When it’s time to move you on...” she shrugs. “That’s when the troubles will start.”

  “Are you an ex-breeder?” A girl sniggers, and I feel like slapping her. Does she not see that this woman is trying to help us?

  Darla holds the girl’s gaze and nods. “I’m an ex breeder. Been through all the brothers in my time. I’m lucky, I ended up with Sidney. When my breeding time ended I was assigned the task of looking over you girls.” She nods towards the window, and we all turn to look.

  “Other’s have ended up working the gardens. Most are sold. And if you’re sold from here, not ever having fallen pregnant, it’s assumed you’re the one with a problem, so you’re not sent to another luxurious life as a breeder somewhere else. If you’re still attractive you’re sold to be someone’s plaything, if you’re not so lucky in the looks department then you’re a usual household slave; cook, wash, clean, I’m sure you all know those options.”

  A shudder goes through the group, and my heart plummets.

  “I should also point out, that as you’ve arrived at Sidney’s first, you’ll have to go through all the other brothers in time, and they ain’t so nice. That’s where you’re unlucky.”

  I set my jaw. I have to find a way to get out of this. I have to get my contract, and destroy it, and set us all free.

  “Why’re they still here?” The younger woman speaks up again, talking about the women we saw in the rec room.

  “They’ve made themselves very skilled in the art of pleasing their master. Perhaps if you do the same, you’ll end up having a longer stretch here than out there.”

  There’s a silence as we all take in her words.

  The thought of deliberately trying to woo this dragon shifter who is my new master makes me feel ill inside.

  Can I do it? Do I have a choice?

  “You should all consider yourself lucky,” Darla says. “Master Sidney is the kindest of his brothers. Rumor has it that his brothers allow their male servants to rape their women. Not
hing confirmed, of course. But it’s said the male servants are told if the woman gets pregnant, the brother will claim it as his own, and the male servant will get a good reward. Be grateful you weren’t bought by one of them.”

  I shudder again, and there is a deathly silence as each woman contemplates this piece of information.

  “It’s lunch time,” Darla interrupts our thoughts. “Come and eat, and then I’ll assign you your tasks.”

  “I thought our task was opening our legs,” one woman calls out.

  Darla laughs. “That’s the main task. But if you want this place to be a nice place to live, or at least as comfortable as we can make it, you’ve all got to chip in and keep it that way.”

  We’re fed a hearty stew, and then Darla shows us the chore sheet. There’s nothing unexpected; cleaning toilets and showers and sinks, washing floors, doing dishes. At least it’s only for the small group here, and not for the entire castle. We’re responsible for changing our own sheets, and cleaning our own clothes. Easy jobs, though some carry on as though they’re being punished.

  Anyone would think this was their first position as a slave. Perhaps they thought being a breeder made them special somehow.

  Darla asks for volunteers, and I put my hand up for dishes. Eventually I’ll have to help out with all of it, but I’m damned certain I’m going to make the best of the situation here, and if I can avoid cleaning the toilets in my first week, that would be great.

  I’m directed to my job, and soon Darla has assigned everyone work and comes to help.

  “You’ll go a long way with an attitude like that,” she notes, as she picks up a wet dish and begins to dry it.

  “Like what?”

  “Putting your hand up for jobs.” Darla shakes her head. “It’s a sad and sorry position to be in, trying to fall pregnant to an infertile prince, but what comes after can be worse.” Darla glances at me. “I have some say in who comes into my kitchen, afterwards. If you keep working hard I’ll have you here. You’ll be cooking for the Master and his family, and cleaning their rooms, but it’s a better life than some.”