Chapter 42
Adrasteia had been summoned. Her mistress herself, Lucretia Verangheti, had ordered her to this dingy home on the far south side of Big Jasper, in the shadow of the walls. Not a pleasant neighborhood.
A pale, grumbling man opened the door and showed Adrasteia to a nook. He brought tea. Only one cup. Didn’t put it in front of her.
A woman Adrasteia didn’t recognize came in ten minutes later. She was young and Ruthgari, with the vanishingly rare true blonde hair and blue eyes. It would have made her an exotic beauty if she didn’t also have such a long, horsey face. She was dressed in a casual dress, well cut, and she wore only a few jewels. Her hair was long and gorgeous, but bound up in a practical bun right now. In all things, she looked like an extremely wealthy lady taking her ease in her own home. She sat. Sipped the tea.
“This isn’t hot, Gaeros,” she said.
The man apologized profusely and took it away. He returned almost immediately, put a hot cup in front of her. “We’ll need privacy,” the woman said.
“Yes, Mistress.” He left and shut the door after himself.
“So,” the woman said.
“So?” Teia asked.
“I’m your owner, my name is Lady Aglaia Crassos. You may call me Mistress.”
“My owner is Lady Lucretia Verangheti.”
“There is no Lady Verangheti. Or I am Lady Verangheti, depending on how you want to look at it. My family has enemies who would block us from placing slaves in certain households or positions—say, the Blackguard. The fiction of ‘Lady Verangheti’ helps me circumvent such pettiness.”
“I’m sorry, Mistress, I don’t mean to be rude, but out of loyalty to my mistress…” There had to be some way to say this. “Hrm…”
“You don’t believe me,” Lady Crassos said. She sounded amused, which Teia hoped was good. “It would be an interesting bluff, would it not? Of course, it would only work on slaves who never meet their mistress—meaning my slaves. Sad.” She pulled out a single piece of vellum and handed it over. It was Teia’s title; she recognized it instantly. Attached to it on a separate sheet was a writ of transfer, signed by Lucretia Verangheti and Aglaia Crassos. The handwriting was the same.
It took Teia a few moments to understand. If Aglaia wanted to keep her ownership of Teia secret, she couldn’t own Teia’s title under her real name or anyone who bothered to inquire could find out to whom Teia belonged. But she needed to have the writ of transfer already finished in case something came up that required her to prove ownership quickly—so she kept the writ and simply didn’t file it at the Chromeria.
Teia’s throat tightened. Why would the woman reveal her ownership now?
“How good of a liar are you, girl?”
“I’m sorry?”
“Simple question. If you’re willful, you will be beaten exquisitely.”
Exquisitely? “I’m pretty good, when I try. Mistress.”
Aglaia Crassos’s face lit up. “Good. Good. Exactly what my sources have told me. Continue to answer honestly and your service for me need not be wholly unpleasant.”
Fear stabbed through Teia. Not wholly?
Aglaia looked around, as if searching for something. She rang her little bell, and the serving man instantly came in. “My crop,” she said.
Gaeros knuckled his forehead and disappeared. He was back in moments. He presented her with a riding crop, then turned his back.
She cracked the riding crop low against his back. He jerked, but said nothing.
Aglaia dismissed him with a wave. “My slaves must anticipate my needs. I believe in disciplining you personally when you don’t. When a lady hands off discipline to someone else out of some misplaced sense of daintiness, she can’t know if her discipline is being enforced with too much mercy or too much gusto. And slaves—like children or hounds—are best disciplined immediately. I will not always have an enforcer with me, but I carry my strong right arm wherever I go. So when we conclude our interview today, I will beat you. I think it’s important for you to know how firm of a hand your mistress has. It will also let me know how easily you bruise, in case I have to beat you someday before you’re to be seen in public.”
Teia swallowed. The weight of dread made her knees quiver. “Yes, Mistress.”
“Kip Guile is your partner in the Blackguard training.”
“Yes, Mistress. Your pardon, but he was disowned weeks ago. He’s no longer a Guile.”
“I’m aware of this. But I have reason to believe that Kip may be welcomed back into his family when Gavin Guile returns.”
Teia ducked her head, made her face show contrition. She was a slave, not a fool.
“Adrasteia, my brother was the governor of Garriston. He was trying to save that worthless city when Gavin Guile shamed and murdered him and made him look like a traitor. And now my slave is partnered with his bastard. A bastard about whom he apparently cares. These are facts.”
Teia scowled briefly, not sure what her mistress was implying. She didn’t hold the expression. Some owners didn’t like to see unpleasant expressions on their slaves. She also didn’t smile with the vacuous impression that she was an idiot that so many other slaves had mastered. Aglaia had said she prized intelligence. It might even be true. Best to reinforce her mistress’s feeling of superiority without overplaying it.
Aglaia rolled her eyes, like Teia was hopelessly stupid. “I want you to keep my ownership of you secret, understood? If it’s found that I own you, because of the history between Gavin’s family and mine, you’d likely be expelled from the Blackguard and made worthless to me. I’ll sell you to a brothel at the silver mines in Laurion after I vent my frustrations on you. Understood?”
The silver mines were notorious, the first option for slaves who committed serious but not capital crimes, and the last resort for slave owners exasperated with slaves who rebelled or fled repeatedly. The mines were dangerous, the other slaves more so, and the brothels were worse. They were reserved for the use of the depraved gaolers and their favorite slaves: the best of the worst. Teia had a friend, Euterpe, whose owners had lost everything during a drought. Finding the local brothels already full with slaves and even free women who’d sold themselves into slavery so they could eat, Euterpe’s owners had sworn to her that she would return after only three months. She’d been returned five months later, after her owners finally recovered. She never did. Never smiled. Flinched at the touch of any man, even her father, who’d gone mad and hanged himself.
Laurion was a curse among slaves. A byword. A threat whose mere existence was enough to keep most slaves in line.
Aglaia Crassos didn’t mean it as a threat. Her eyes had as much pity as a rattlesnake’s. “You think I wouldn’t do that when you’re worth a fortune if I let the Blackguard buy you?”
Teia licked her lips, but couldn’t think of any response that mightn’t plunge her further into hell.
“My brother’s death means I’ll inherit twice as much money now as I thought I would a few months ago. Vengeance is sweeter than gold. Do you know the girls in Laurion service up to fifty men every day? Fifty! I didn’t believe it myself, but I’ve known several people who’ve sworn it’s true. They give the girls a measure of olive oil every day. Can you guess why?”
Teia blinked stupidly, ice in her guts.
“Because otherwise they get destroyed inside. Death by cock sounds so romantic, doesn’t it? But I’m sure it’s not. Fifty each day. And a pretty girl like you… you might do even more. Not many pretty young girls there. Do you understand me?”
Teia’s knees felt weak. She nodded. She had to get away.
“So now that we understand each other, tell me, have you seen anything worthwhile?”
Teia gave her report. Kip was fat, had few friends, spent most of his time in the library, apparently spending all his time reading about some game. He’d been summoned several times to speak with the Red, and had seemed distraught afterward. He thought the Red wanted to destroy him. The old man had taken away Kip’s right to go to practicum in order to make Kip seem inept when Gavin got back. Teia had seen Kip draft green and blue. He didn’t sleep well.
All that was fine. It was information Lady Crassos could learn through other avenues. But that wasn’t good enough, and Teia knew it.
Feeling sick to her stomach, Teia also told her mistress that Commander Ironfist had told her that there were two trainees he couldn’t let fail out of the Blackguard: Cruxer and Kip. She omitted herself.
That was obviously news to Aglaia. “That’s good,” she said. “That’s very good. Is there… anything else?”
“I train with Kip, after midnight, in a special room low in the Prism’s Tower.” Adrasteia shrugged. “The commander wants him to be good enough to make it into the Blackguard by himself.”
Hold back what you can about Kip, too. Don’t tell her about the dagger he has hidden. Keep what you can of your soul.
“Good enough,” Aglaia said. “Anything else?”
Give everything else. A slave, not a hero. “I saw someone else using paryl when I was out on one of my special jobs.”
Aglaia’s eyebrows shot up, and she made Teia tell her everything about it.
“An assassination,” she said. “Never liked her anyway, but that someone would… hmm. I’ll have to see if she died. Worrying, though, either way.” She didn’t explain who she was talking about. Teia knew better than to ask.
Aglaia seemed to push the thought out of her mind and turned back to the task at hand. She smiled, and it actually seemed genuine. “You’ve pleased me greatly, girl. I’ll remember this. I know I’m a hard mistress, but if you perform well, you’ll be rewarded well. Today, two rewards. First, I’ll let you name one.”
It could be a test, a trap. A slave knew there were certain rewards you didn’t ask for. Asking too much made you seem lazy or ungrateful or greedy. But if your mistress were in a good mood, she might change your life on a whim—for the better. “Erase my father’s debt,” Teia said before she thought too much.
“How much does he owe?” Lady Crassos asked.
“Seven hundred danars.” It was two years’ wages for a laborer. Her father spent everything now simply paying the interest on it.
“Seven hundred danars? That is a substantial sum. How did your father run up such a massive sum? He a gambler?”
Teia ignored the patronizing tone. “He bought my sisters back.” He’d been crushed when he came back from a trade journey to find that his wife had taken up with another man, had borrowed vast sums to fund a lavish lifestyle, and lost everything he’d worked for twenty years to accumulate, including their house, furniture, jewels, and brewery. His wife had finally sold their three daughters to pay her debts. And then only part of the debts. All while he’d been gone.
“He bought them back. But not you.”
“I cost too much.” It was Teia’s fault. Her drafting had manifested after she’d been sold. If she hadn’t drafted, everything would be different. Her mother had only been furious that she had sold Teia too cheaply.
After everything, Kallikrates hadn’t even left his wife. Said she’d gone mad. Said it was his own fault that he’d married a woman who couldn’t bear a trader’s long absences.
“Do you know how much this bracelet cost me?” Aglaia asked. She held out a wrist, bangled with some ugly golden glittering thing.
“No, my lady.” Guessing too high would be as bad as guessing too low.
“Guess.” It was an order.
“Six, seven thousand danars?” Teia said. It couldn’t be worth more than five thousand. Her father would have gotten it for four.
Aglaia’s eyebrow rose for a moment. “Well done, little flower. I got it for five thousand six hundred, and I drove a hard bargain. I thought it would complement a necklace I have. It doesn’t.” Her expression made it clear that today was the last time she would ever wear it.
Teia said nothing. She knew better than to hope.
Aglaia said, “No, no, of course not. Seven hundred danars, for collecting snuff boxes and trinkets and a bit of information? That’s far too rich. I will keep it in mind, though. Something else…?”
“Training in paryl,” Teia said quickly. If she got in, the Blackguard would probably go to the expense of finding and hiring a private tutor for her. Otherwise, she’d have to wait until she was a gleam, or a third-year, when more specialized Chromeria training started. That was too long.
“Ah,” Aglaia said. “That might well be more expensive in the long run than erasing your father’s debts. But… it would make you more likely to get into the Blackguard, wouldn’t it? An investment.” She thought about it for a moment, while Teia’s heart pounded. “Yes. Done.” She smiled. “And an excellent request. Shows a good mind. For a slave. I want you to know, I’m quite pleased; if this weren’t our first meeting, I’d skip the beating. But I can’t have you thinking I’m soft. Strip down to your shift, girl. I like to keep one layer of cloth on so I don’t leave marks, but there’s no reason to give you more padding than necessary. Beatings can be so tiring in a stuffy little room.”
Teia stripped, and Aglaia Crassos carefully beat her horrendously from her calves to her shoulders, and then, when Teia thought she was finished, she beat the front of her body from her collarbones to her shins.
Sometimes Teia fantasized about not weeping through a beating, of being as hard and implacable as Commander Ironfist or Watch Captain Karris White Oak, but she wept freely. Proud slaves were stupid slaves. And it hurt too much anyway. Though she claimed dispassion, once Aglaia Crassos got going, sweating as she beat the girl, her face lit up with a glow that wasn’t wholly perspiration. A small, fierce joy lit up her eyes when she snapped the crop across Teia’s breasts one last time at the end.
Aglaia Crassos rang her little bell and Gaeros poked his head in the door immediately. Teia collapsed to the floor, every part of her aching. Gaeros carried in a platter with a goblet of chilled wine in it.
The foul hag took it and drank deeply. “Gaeros, help this one dress, and”—she rubbed the beads of perspiration from her upper lip—“summon my room slave, the tall one, Incaros. I find I’ve worked up an appetite.”
“He awaits you eagerly in the next room, Mistress.”
“Ah, see! Anticipating my needs!” She turned and put the crop against Gaeros’s groin. “If you were even a little bit handsome I might reward you for that.” She slapped the crop against his crotch, as if it were playfully, but it connected hard.
A small grunt escaped as the man turned to the side and held himself still for a long moment. His eyes were watery when he opened them. But Aglaia had already forgotten about him. She turned to Teia and stood over her. Aglaia said gently, “You’ll remember this, won’t you, Teia?”
“Y-yes, Mistress.”
“Gaeros, find out her favorite food and drink. We’ll serve them to her next time. She’s done well. Very well. Teia, I’ll beat you again next time. Slaves are naturally slow to understand and need firm reinforcement of basic lessons. But after that, this won’t have to happen again.”
“Yes, Mistress.”
“And you swear to serve me with your whole heart, don’t you, girl?”
“Yes, Mistress,” Teia said fervently. There was no trace of guile in her.
Was she a good liar? Aglaia had asked. Teia was a slave. Of course she was a good liar.
“Oh, I almost forgot. Your second reward.” Aglaia Crassos rummaged through a little jewelry box. “You are to wear this at all times, understood?”
“Yes, Mistress.” Teia had no idea what she was talking about.
Lady Crassos handed her a slender, pretty gold necklace with a little vial dangling from it. Seeing the puzzled look in Teia’s eyes, Lady Crassos merely smiled broadly and left.
As Gaeros helped her dress, eliciting gasps and grunts and grinding teeth as cloth slid over inflamed skin, Teia heard the harpy noisily rutting next door, cries of passion not unlike pain. When Teia was all dressed and her tears dried, Gaeros gently took her tightly balled fist in his hand to take the necklace and put it on her.
With difficulty, Teia unclenched her fist and surrendered the vial. A vial of olive oil.