The Slave (Free Men, #1) (Completed)

Part 2

                 

His papers said his name was Kai; a foot soldier with the Granthian corps. No doubt his sale into slavery was someone's particular brand of humiliation, or perhaps the troops who'd sold him simply needed the money.

The transporter took us back to Master's compound on the outskirts of Otiz, and I had Kai installed in his chamber before nightfall. Master had seen fit to have bars placed on the windows, and the sturdy lock on the door had been well oiled in preparation for a new arrival. Fresh slaves took time to train and longer to trust. I listened, feeling wretched as he systematically destroyed what sounded like every stick of furniture in the sparse room. He would be forbidden possessions until he learned to take care of the ones he had.

Sasha, the cookwoman and only remaining female slave in our household, was wide-eyed when she brought a tray of thin gruel up for him. "What have you bought? What will Master say?"

"I don't know what came over me," I admitted. "I couldn't bear the thought of him falling into the hands of any of the others."

"If anyone can make him understand, you can." She smiled, and I warmed with affection for her.

"Let me take that." I indicated the tray. "He at least knows me."

Silence had fallen in the room when I opened the lock. I entered warily, half expecting him to rush me in a desperate bid to escape, but instead what I saw moved me almost to tears. He was slumped on the floor, the furniture—as I had guessed—shattered and scattered around him. The sheets of his bed were torn, his hands and limbs streaked with blood from his excesses.

I entered and heard Sasha lock the door behind me. I placed the tray on the floor and sat beside him, my knees drawn up, legs crossed at the ankle. I had expected him to be weeping but his eyes were dry, dull and flat like something was dead inside him, too numb even for self-pity.

"Do you want me to bring you something for those cuts?" I nodded at the deep scratches and lacerations on his neck and chest where he had tried to remove the collar.

He shook his head.

"Don't let them get infected."

He seemed almost to laugh at that, the sound not quite surfacing.

"I'm Tamelik. Tam. Is Kai your real name?"

He growled low, like an animal.

"Your papers say you were a soldier. What happened to you? Were you captured? By whom?"

He drew away from me, pointedly turning his back. So maybe I asked too many questions; maybe he wasn't ready to talk about his old life just yet.

"I was a nomad. My people came from the desert." I bit back the memories. "Our master isn't a bad man."

He turned suddenly, glaring at me. "How is it you speak my language?"

"Master let me learn. He said it would do me good to educate me."

"What use is an educated pleasureslave?" He sneered the word, like it—I—was something dirty.

"Well, it means I can talk to you," I retorted, stung. "He taught me himself."

"Your accent is terrible."

I laughed. "I'll tell Master you said that."

He snarled. "Is that a threat?"

"No." I frowned a little. "He always worried we didn't get the pronunciation right. He learnt from a book when he was a boy."

"How long have you been here?"