A scholar who reveres wizards and a street rat who despises them both find themselves apprenticed to a mage with a dark storied past and discover he is not what either of them expected. They may end up learning more from each other than they do from...
The filthy walls flickered a sickly yellow in the sputtering of the torches vanishing into deep recesses from which enormous cobwebs could be barely glimpsed. The hardened dirt floor was stained in several placed with dark patches. Blood and urine to be sure, and others best left unimagined.
Quinn had found a spot on the least filthy looking section of her cell's floor and was massaging her ankle when the guards returned with Nissa, unlocked the barred gate, and threw her back in the cell.
"Are you okay, Nissa? Did they hurt you?"
The guard barked an order at Quinn. "Your turn. Come with me." Quinn decided to ignore him.
"I'm fine, Quinn. They were nice to me. They said that if I pay off my debt by joining the militia, I can be let out tomorrow."
"I said come with me!" The guard shouted louder. Quinn turned her back to him and eyed the younger girl.
"Did you say yes?"
The guard let out an angry curse. "Move it, girl, or I'll drag you out!"
"I...Quinn, they said I would have three meals a day, clean clothes, my own straw mattress, and hot baths."
The guard stormed in and violently yanked Quinn to her feet. "You'll learn to be obedient, tart! Or— "
"Or you'll what? Imprison me? Or worse, breathe on me?"
Quinn found herself forcibly jerked back by the guard as Nissa watched in shock. "Don't hurt her!" Before Quinn was dragged down the corridor, Nissa cried out once more. "Quinn! You'll join too, won't you? You'll come with me? You'll join the militia?"
Quinn didn't voice the answer that leaped to mind. I would die first.
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Quinn found herself forced down in a hard wooden chair across a barren desk across from a soldier while her guard stood behind her. The guard sneered. "The prisoner, corporal."
"Ah yes, the larcenous Melli. Or should I call you Quinn?"
Quinn glared across the table at him. "You may address me as I-Don't-Give-A-Damn, as long as I can address you as Private Dungheap."
He responded with a sharp retort. "I am not a private, I am a corporal in service to the Lytgard militia, and you will address me as sir if you are to address me at all."
"I'd rather not."
"Sir. Say it."
Quinn said nothing.
"Insubordinate wench. Service in the military will teach you honor, discipline, respect, and order."
"I'm not a very good student." After a pregnant pause she spit out the word "Sir" as if she had ash on her tongue. "Nor do I believe you'd want to put a sword in my hand."
"And you would be right. It would seem unwise to arm one as disloyal to their kingdom as yourself. However, there are many other ways you could serve. Cooking or tending the stables, for instance."
"Not interested. Can I go now?"
"You may not. Furthermore, I would strongly advise you to reconsider your words here carefully. You are being offered an excellent opportunity to work off your debt to society by serving in Lytgard's military. If you refuse, the consequences of your crime will be far more severe."
Quinn shrugged. "So, I do have the option to refuse. I refuse."
The corporal rose from his chair and stood unpleasantly close to Quinn with a lecherous gaze. "Of course, there are other ways an attractive young woman can serve." He placed a hand on her shoulder.
"The camp doxy?" Quinn slapped his hand off of her shoulder, prompting the guard behind her to strike the back of her head. Quinn ignored it. "I won't be a whore for you or your military!"
The corporal grew furious as he shouted down to her, "It would be a rise in station for you, street rat! You should thank me for the opportunity to support the militia of our fine nation!"
"In that case," Quinn answered. "Do it yourself. You seem to be filled with pride and a willingness to serve. I'm sure your soldiers would be happy to fill you with—"
"Insolent filth monger! I have had enough of your lip!" the corporal yelled. He turned away from her, hands behind his back and walked around the desk to return to his seat. "Very well then. If you will not join, the penalty for thievery stands. In the morning, you are to have your hands broken. Every bone will be shattered to see to it that you never thieve again. This is your last chance to capitulate, though I am loath to offer you any further kindness. Yet, I am duty bound. Your service is the only way to avoid the penalty. Think carefully, guttersnipe, and give me your answer."
Quinn looked as if she was deep in thought then pursed her lips and spit in the corporal's eye before adding "sir."
The guard behind her forcibly pulled her out of the seat and began to drag her back to the cell as the corporal wiped the spittle out of his eye and shouted "When your hands are crushed and useless, whoring is all you'll be able to do, rat! You'll be spreading your legs for anyone with a crust of bread or a bent penny!"
