Kord’s eyes flashed. He snarled, a mindlessly animal sound, and hit her again, harder. Stars flew across her vision, and the dusty floor rose up to meet her.
She wasn’t sure how long she lay there, pain and thirst blinding her, making her unaware of anything else. But when she came to her senses again and sat up, only Kord and his son, Aric, remained. Odiana lay in a heap on the floor, not far away, curled onto her side, her legs drawn up, her hair hiding her face.
Kord tossed a flask down beside Isana. It made a soft, slight gurgling sound, as though it held only a tiny bit of water. “Go ahead,” he told her. “Nothing in that one. I want you to see what happens.”
Isana took up the flask, throat burning. She didn’t believe that Kord had told her the truth, but she felt faint, weak, and her throat felt as though it had been coated with salt. She pulled the cap from it and drank, almost before she realized what she was doing. Water, warm, but untainted, flowed into her mouth. Half a cup, perhaps — certainly no more. It was gone before it had done much to help her thirst, but at least it had eased the maddening ache of it. She lowered the flask, looking up at Kord.
“Aric,” Kord said. “Bring me the box.”
Aric turned toward the door, but hesitated. “Pa. Maybe she’s right. I mean, with what Tavi said at the river and all —”
“Boy,” Kord snarled, cutting him off. “You bring me that box. And keep your mouth shut. You hear?”
Aric went pale and swallowed. “Yes, Pa.” He turned and vanished from the smokehouse.
Kord turned back to her. “The thing about all of this, Isana, is that you’re too naive to be as afraid as you should be. I want to help you with that. I want you to know what’s going to happen.”
“This is useless, Kord,” Isana said. “You might as well kill me.”
“When I’m ready.” Kord walked over to Odiana, then reached down and seized her casually by the hair. The woman whimpered and twisted her shoulders, struggling feebly to get away from him. Kord gathered her hair up, lock by lock, until he held the length of it in his fist. “See, this one here. She’s a hard case. Knows what she’s doing. Knows the game. How to survive it.” He shook her hair, eliciting a whimper. “All the right sounds to make. Right, girl?”
With Odiana’s face bowed, facing away from Kord, Isana could see her expression now. The water witch’s eyes were hard, her expression cold, distant. But she kept her voice weak, shaking. “P-please,” Odiana whispered. “Master. Don’t hurt me. Please. I’ll do anything you want.”
“That’s right,” Kord rumbled, smiling down at the woman. “You will.”
Aric opened the door and entered, carrying a long, flat box of smooth, polished wood.
“Open it,” Kord told him. “Let her see.”
Aric swallowed. Then he paced around, in front of where Kord held Odiana by the hair, and opened the box.
Isana saw the contents: a strip of metal, a band perhaps an inch wide, lay on the cloth within the box, dully throwing back the light of the fires.
Odiana’s expression changed. The hardness vanished from her eyes, and her mouth dropped open in an expression of something close to horror. She recoiled from the box, but was brought up short by Kord’s grip on her. Isana heard her let out a whimper of pain and, unmistakably, of fear. “No,” she said, at once, her voice suddenly harsher, high, panicky. “No, I don’t need that. You won’t need it. No, don’t, I promise, you won’t need it, just tell me what you want.”
“It’s called a discipline collar,” Kord said to Isana, in a conversational voice. “Furycrafted. They’re uncommon this far north. But useful, sometimes. She knows what it is, I think.”
“You don’t need it,” Odiana said, her voice high and desperate. “Please, oh furies, please, master, you don’t need that, I don’t need it, no, no, no, no —”
“Aric, put it on her.” Kord jerked Odiana up, holding her weight up off the floor by her hair, forcing her chin up, the slender strength of her throat to be exposed.
Odiana’s eyes, still fastened on the collar, widened, white surrounding them. She screamed. It was a horrible sound, one that welled deep in her throat and rose up through her mouth without regard for meaning, for shape, horrible and feral. She turned and struggled, even as she screamed, her hands reaching toward Kord’s face with desperate speed. Her nails left bloody weals down one of his cheeks, and even as she got her feet underneath her, she kicked one bare foot at the inside of his knee.
Still holding her hair in one hand, Kord dragged her to one side, off of her feet, and with the other clutched her throat. Then, with a casual surge of power, doubtless drawn from his fury, he lifted her clear of the ground by her throat, so that her feet dangled and kicked below her torn skirts.
She fought him, even so, struggling wildly against him. She raked at his arm with her nails when she couldn’t reach his face, but he held her, expression never changing. She kicked at his thigh, his ribs, but without any leverage the blows did nothing to deter the big Steadholder. She struggled, grunting, gasping, making low, animal sounds of fear.
Then her eyes rolled back in her skull and she went slowly limp.
Kord held her suspended for a moment more, before he lowered her to the floor again, and once more held her by the hair, baring her throat. “Aric.”
The young man swallowed. He flicked a glance at Isana, his expression strained, difficult to read. Then he stepped forward and slipped the metal band about Odiana’s throat. It settled into place with a quiet, sharp click.
She took a ragged breath and let out a little groan, a desperate sound, even as Kord released her hair with a contemptuous jerk. She fell onto her side, her eyes clutched closed, and lifted her fingers to her throat. She began pawing and jerking at the collar, desperate and clumsy.
Kord drew a knife from his belt and pricked his thumb with it, then grabbed Odiana’s wrist in his huge hands and did the same to hers. Her eyes opened and saw him, and once again she went wild, letting out a little shriek and struggling against him with a confused and disoriented determination.
Kord smirked. With casual strength, he forced her bloodied thumb to the collar—and then pressed his own down beside it, scarlet marking the metal.
Odiana whimpered, “No,” frustration warping the word, tears making her eyes shine. Then she shuddered. Her lips moved again, but nothing intelligible came from them. She shuddered again, and her eyes lost focus. Her body relaxed, the straining against Kord’s hands easing slowly away. Once more, her body shook, this time accompanying it was a low gasp.