“True, but how would having such a huge, ostentatious body-slave help me blend in?”
“Ahh, but you do not wish to blend in.” The slaver raised one scaly finger for emphasis. “If you are going to ssstand out anyway, you should make a ssstatement. And nothing commands respect on Yonnie Sssix like a huge, imposing male who is obviously broken to your will.”
“Hmm.” Though Trin hated to admit it, the slaver made sense. How many times had she seen the Mistresses of Yonnie Six parading around the assembly halls with the biggest, baddest, most dangerous-looking male they could find trailing on a leash behind them? And the Havoc male on the platform was huge and imposing enough to put any other body-slave to shame.
I’d like to see Lady Malroth snub me with him standing behind me, guarding my back, she thought eyeing the massive Havoc again.
Still, it would do no good to get such a large male unless he truly was tractable. And no matter how much the slaver reassured her, she couldn’t make herself believe this Havoc was the innocent, malleable slave he was promised to be.
“I don’t know,” she said, frowning. “I don’t know how I could control such a large male.”
“Easily,” the slaver said eagerly. “Observe.” He walked over to the platform and tapped the massive male on one arm. “Slave—get down from the display platform. This Mistress wishes to see you.”
The Havoc male didn’t twitch so much as a muscle. He wasn’t just unmoving—he appeared to have turned to stone, kneeling there on the round display platform.
“Do you hear?” The slaver raised the black blindfold, uncovering the most gorgeous eyes Trin had ever seen. They were a pale silver-blue that was almost white with a thin band of black around the irises.
Beast’s eyes, she thought, and shivered for some reason. But the slaver was still trying to get the Havoc’s attention.
“I sssaid get down!” he bawled and slapped the muscular arm more forcefully.
Again there was nothing. Not so much as a flicker of movement.
“This is your last chance.” There was an ugly look on the slaver’s reptilian face now—his snout was wrinkled in anger, his yellow eyes were enraged slits. “Ssstand now or taste the pain of your collar.”
The huge slave simply looked at him—or glared might be a better word. The extraordinary eyes narrowed and for a moment Trin thought he looked like a wild animal set to pounce. But he gave no other response and didn’t move so much as a muscle.
“You will move if I sssay ssso!” Clearly infuriated, the Xethian slaver pulled out a small black remote and pointed at the Havoc.
“No, wait!” Trin exclaimed. “I don’t want—”
But her protest came too late. The slaver pressed the button and the big body on the platform went suddenly rigid with agony. Trin watched in horror as the Havoc’s back arched and his head snapped back in pain. Every muscle on his big frame stood out as hard as a rock and the cords in the powerful column of his throat were rigidly defined.
The eerie thing was that he suffered in silence. Though it was clear he was in horrible pain, the Havoc never made so much as a whimper, let alone a plea for mercy. He just took it.
“Stop! Stop it!” Trin exclaimed. “Look, his face is getting red and he can barely breathe. Stop it now, you’re hurting him! That’s too much pain!”
“Pain is the point, my lady,” the slaver hissed malevolently. “And this ssslave needs to learn to do as I tell him if he does not want more pain than he can bear.”
“You’re giving him more than he can bear right now!” Trin protested. “Look, he’s about to faint! He—”
Before she could finish her words, the intractable Havoc male toppled off the platform, his entire long body going rigid, as though he was having some kind of a seizure.
“Stop!” Trin ordered again. “You’re killing him!”
“Why ssshould I not kill him? I will not have a ssslave who does not obey,” the slaver hissed petulantly.
“That’s enough—I’m through asking you.” Trin doubled her fist and gave the slaver a shot to his scaly jaw. She didn’t like to resort to physical violence but she couldn’t just stand by and watch the Havoc killed on a whim. The slaver’s long, boney jawbone sent a jolt of pain through her fingers as she connected, making her wonder briefly if she might have broken one or several, but the blow had the desired effect.
“Ssslurlesh!” It was obviously a curse in the slaver’s native tongue. He dropped the remote in surprise and it skittered across the floor. Trin ran after it. The slave’s broad back was still bowed in agony and she was afraid if she didn’t shut off the collar soon he might have permanent damage.
The little black remote was kicked by several feet but at last she got her hands on it and hurried back to the display—only to see the slaver standing there with one three fingered hand to his scaly jaw and a couple of security Crangs flanking him.
“This isss the one,” he said, pointing at her. “Ssshe ssstruck me with no provocation whatsoever!”
“I had plenty of provocation,” Trin said angrily. “He’s killing his slave. Just look!” She turned with the remote ready, hoping she was pressing the right button to stop the painful pulses.
The slave, whose entire body had been a rigid statue of pain, suddenly went limp and lay still on the metal floor. Trin ran over to him and checked his pulse. It was there—slow but steady—but he was completely out. Well, at least he’s still alive. She breathed a sigh of relief and turned back to the huge, lumpish security Crangs who looked like they were made of cooled lava deposits.
“See?” she demanded.
“It does not matter what the slaver, who is the one who is the owner of this slave, was doing to his slave which he owns,” one of the Crangs pronounced laboriously. “He is the owner of the one who is called the slave, not you.”
“Therefore, you must be the one who shall be arrested and tried in the Hub court that is called the place of law for the crimes you have committed,” the other Crang droned. “This is what is called justice.”
“Justice?” Trin exclaimed. “Have you been smoking mindbliss weed? You can’t arrest me for keeping this scaly bastard from killing someone.”
“He is not a someone who is having what are known as rights,” the first Crang said. “He is what is known as a slave and you are the one who is being in the wrong.”
“Therefore, come with us,” the second one said, reaching for her.
“Hold on a minute!” Trin knew what this meant. Those taken into custody at the Flesh Bazaar as often as not found themselves on the wrong side of the auction block when the hasty “trial” in the Hub Court was over. All proceeds of such sales went to line the pockets of the corrupt officials who presided over the court so they were quick to hand down a guilty verdict. Trin had no intention of being sold to the highest bidder just because the scaly son-of-a-bitch slaver was angry that she’d taken a shot at him.
She took a hasty step backwards and nearly stumbled over the body of the huge Havoc who was still out like a light. It gave her an idea. “I may have overreacted,” she said, though she could barely force the words out. “But it was only because I didn’t want the slave I was intending to buy to be damaged.”
“Buy, you sssay?” The wounded slaver perked up considerably.
“Yes, buy,” Trin emphasized. “I’ve decided he’s the perfect slave for me. So…how much?”
The slaver’s eyes narrowed, rendering them nothing more than yellow slits.
“Fifty thousand credits,” he announced. “And not a sssentine less.”
“Fifty thousand?” Trin could scarcely believe her ears. “But that’s crazy. It’s ten times what even the best, most perfectly trained slave is worth and—”
“And you will pay or these fine Crangsss will take you to the court.” The slaver smirked at her.
“I—” Trin began, meaning to tell him to go procreate with himself. But the Crangs were coming towards her, their lumpish, rock-like hands outstretched, ready to drag her before the “court” where she would be declared guilty at once, stripped of her clothing and all her goods, and sent to the auction block. Fifty thousand credits was her entire savings and then some but there wasn’t much she could do—she was stuck.