Possessions Ch. 10

Sarantha lay in her bed, listening half-heartedly as Ehrik described the events of the past four weeks. He spoke slowly, making sure she understood everything that had happened and, more importantly, why things had happened that way. She wasn't happy.

She was overjoyed her child had been born healthy. However, she was not consistently nursing the babe. Some other woman staying in her rooms and nursing her child because Ehrik thought Sarantha was too weak to. That may have been true before, but now, she had been awake for full days and there was no reason she couldn't nurse her own child. Except that she had tried that morning and her breasts weren't producing enough milk. Kyrsti had come and tried to massage her breasts to stimulate production, but Sarantha had suffered the humiliation for nothing. Even if her breasts had leaked enough nutritious milk, her daughter would not latch onto her nipple, turning her head away and screeching her denial of the intimate act between mother and child. However, the instant the midwife lifted the wailing infant to her breast, the baby had instantly latched on and feasted. Sarantha felt helpless, worthless, and defeated. She couldn't even nurse her own child. She had cried, sobbed really, until Ehrik had to be called. He obviously thought that talking to her would distract her from the woman sitting on her little slave's bed, nursing her child.

Sarantha flicked her eyes to Ehrik as he brought up Trivalm. She wanted to see him, get him back into a proper routine. She was certain that all her effort had been wasted now that he had been gone from her for so long. Had Ehrik continued the slave's training? Made the new slave enjoy his new home so he would settle? Of course not. Ehrik had locked him in a tiny room, away from Ebon and Ivory, and left him there, ignored and lonely. The other two War Slaves were not good influences. It was always after Trivalm spent time with them that he acted up. He did much better when he was around Ebon and Ivory, who consistently demonstrated proper behavior.

"Little sister?" Ehrik's tried to pull his sister from her angry brooding. He could read her face well enough to know that her circular logic was setting in and it wasn't going to end well for him.

"What?" Her voice was much harsher than she meant it to be, but she couldn't bring herself to care.

Ehrik sighed. "Perhaps you should rest for-"

"No! I am done resting! I am getting up. I am taking my child, retrieving my slaves and I am going to dinner in the Great Hall!"

With that she threw her blankets off and forced herself to her feet, trying, unsuccessfully, to cover the bout of dizziness that came with the movement.

Ehrik just sighed, knowing that this was not a battle he would win. Gone was the subdued Sarantha who would do what was suggested to avoid conflict. This was the Sarantha his brother had warned him about; the one who demanded things be a certain way and despised interference. Normally, as Madam Keeper, she could do things her way, and her way normally made sense. But this was a combination of post pregnancy moods and a sense of helplessness combining to make her highly irrational. Whatever had been going through her mind as he spoke did not bode well for him or any other she crossed paths with. He had been careful with the information he imparted, not wanting to overwhelm her, but it was obvious he hadn't done a good job.

"I will inform Melil that you are going to the bathing chambers and to retrieve your slaves." Ehrik forced himself to smile as though he were pleased with her progress, when he was praying that she would tire and decide to rest instead.

Sarantha watched him leave with eyes narrowed. Fine. Let him go do that. If she made it to the Great Hall for dinner, like she said she would, that was fine.

And maybe when she got there she would apologize for being so short with him...

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Trivalm sat in his normal spot in the Great Hall, on display near the front table. Alek had told him Sarantha would be attending dinner that evening, but she wasn't there yet. He was anxious, more so than what might have been necessary. He wanted to talk to her, to apologize, to ensure she was well. He had inquired over her daily. When his requests had morphed into demands, Krisel had attempted to put an end to Trivalm's attempts by threatening another beating. Allek, however, had taken pity on him. He would never answer if Trivalm asked, careful not to undermine the other Captain, but he would sometimes give Trivalm periodic updates on Sarantha's illness and recovery.

Guilt still beat at him daily, keeping him awake at night, occupying any free time that he would have otherwise spent ruing his current station as a slave. When he thought of Sarantha's illness, her frailty, and remembered the way he had enjoyed her discomfort, Trivalm's stomach churned. He had been so distracted in his self-righteous pettiness that he'd only bothered to react, to defend a woman, when her rape had been imminent. He'd never told Drimelk and Raikol, even when they inquired over his odd behavior, too ashamed of himself to admit his wrongdoing.

Only when he tried to figure out what had been off, what detail he had been missing, did the anger begin to set in. There was something, Trivalm just couldn't figure out what. It nagged at the corner of his mind daily. It was important. He knew that. He just didn't know what 'it' was.

For the other war slaves, the initial shock of the change in status had worn off. Drimelk had become subdued, quiet, depressed. He ate little, and spoke even less. He had not divulged the content of the quiet conversation he had shared with Sarantha the night of her impromptu competition, and neither Trivalm nor Raikol had pushed. Raikol, on the other hand, had become angry. When they were allowed to the training rooms, he would spar with the other soldiers every chance he got. Often, his competitor was left with more marks than was necessary. One time, on a day he had been especially ornery, the slave had been lashed for purposely breaking the arm of a young, rather new soldier after the younger man had admitted defeat. That hadn't deterred him from returning to the sparring ring as soon as he'd been allowed to.

Other than dinner, their meals were dropped off by Alaliya's slave, Triya. Each time she entered, her eyes would sweep over the slaves, then linger for a moment on Raikol, who glared at her with venom in his gaze. She would simply smirk and leave. She was attractive, but there was obviously something off with that woman. She was a fool for taunting Raikol that way. If he ever caught her, Trivalm wasn't sure what the other war slave would do to the poor girl.

The slaves took their supper in the Great Hall, on display. But, unlike the first days they were there, the war slaves were no longer the prime source of entertainment. Instead, the Keep's attention and amusement was directed at the branded slaves secured along the walls of the Great Hall. Their crime was obvious by the brand across their foreheads. The men were fed the bare minimum to keep them alive and Trivalm recognized the food as leftover food from several days earlier. Trivalm felt no pity for the men, not even when they were being lashed, which was evidently allowed by any citizen in the Keep. Ehrik had made the announcement that his benevolent wife would share her gift with the people of the Keep. Even the slaves of citizens, with their owner's permission, were allowed to participate in what was obviously a rare opportunity. Trivalm wondered what the Keeper had meant by Alaliya's "gift". Were the men somehow connected to the Madam Keeper or did she simply have a general hatred of rapists?

Every night that Trivalm settled into the Great Hall and saw the rapists chained, his heart sank just a little. Surely Ehrik would remove the beaten men before Sarantha returned. Such a gentle woman would be sickened by the bruised and bloodied bodies hanging by their bonds and just barely clinging to life? Ehrik, with his constant maintenance of his sister's compassionate outlook, would never allow her to be so distressed.

Trivalm was ripped from his musings, proven wrong, his head snapping up as Ivory came skipping into the room, her smile radiant. Ebon, as always, was only a step behind. Trivalm hadn't seen Ivory or Ebon since the child's arrival. He had been allowed only in the slaves' room, the training rooms and the Great Hall. Sarantha's personal slaves had no reason to be in the War Slave's room or the training rooms and Trivalm assumed that they stayed in their Mistress's room with her for meals. Ivory noticed him and immediately skipped over to him. She threw herself into his arms, uncaring of the awkwardness his shackles caused, and nuzzled into him.

Trivalm hardly noticed, his gaze locked on the area the two had appeared from. As if knowing he was looking for her, Sarantha appeared, child cradled lovingly in her arms, guards and a midwife at her back. Her eyes met his and she smiled softly, gently.

She never even acknowledged the men chained to the wall.

Trivalm nearly had to do a double take. Without the burden of the unborn child, her small stature became even more apparent. Even though her garment was loose and flowing, it was obvious her body was tiny. Her face had thinned, no doubt due to her illness. Her skin was paler than he remembered. Trivalm wondered how bad her illness had been if this was considered improvement. Regardless, though, his Mistress was done up to perfection. Her hair was styled in tight ringlets and her cosmetics were applied to perfection. She seemed calm, well. Her normal self. Trivalm was reminded of the first day they had arrived, when she had been so concerned over the slave's state of mind.

She walked to his side and crouched near him, the small smile never leaving her face. Ehrik, Kriel, Allek and Alaliya all immediately moved to place themselves as to interfere if one of the slaves were foolish enough to attempt harm to the mother or child. Kriel sent one look to Raikol, letting the slave know that his recent attitude and behavior would not be tolerated. The slave sneered and looked away.

"Look, little slave." Sarantha lowered her arm slightly so her slave could see the tiny baby girl in the bundle of blankets. "A little girl. We haven't celebrated her birth yet. But soon we will. It will be a grand party. You will have fun and enjoy it. That is when her name will be announced. I have already chosen it, so you must be careful not to tell anyone, even by slip of the tongue." Her voice was so soft, so gentle, as if she were trying to reestablish the connection she thought they had previously had.

Trivalm, almost in a daze, slowly, tentatively reached out his hand. Immediately there was a blade at his throat. For the first time since entering the room, Sarantha's smile faltered and she frowned up at Allek. The Captain's eyes narrowed in acknowledgement of Sarantha's displeasure, but he did not remove the blade. Sarantha, realizing that this was not a battle she was going to win, she pursed her lips and returned her gaze to Trivalm's. At Sarantha's nod, he began to inch his fingers forward.

For a split second, Trivalm was amazed at the warm softness of the child's cheek. But a split second was all the time he got, because as soon as his fingers skimmed the child's skin, Ivory readjusted herself in his lap. She somehow got caught on his shackles, causing him to yank his hand away. The suddenness of slaves' movement startled Sarantha. She lost her balance only for a moment before Alaliya and Ehrik steadied her. Instinctively, her arms tightened around the child, holding the bundle close to her chest. Startled, the child began to cry. Immediately, Ebon swept Ivory away, speaking to her in low tones so no one else could hear what he told her.

Trivalm saw Ehrik and Alaliya exchange a look behind Sarantha's back. Alaliya's lips thinned in obvious displeasure. The Keepers didn't approve of the war slave being near the child, but there was obviously more going on, but Trivalm didn't know what.

Sarantha, however, was oblivious. It took her only a moment to calm the child, turn the cries to coos. Once she ensured her child was well, Sarantha stood and turned to the people waiting in the Great Hall. It suddenly hit Trivalm that the room was silent watching the front dais. Not a single man or woman, regardless of their status, moved. Saratha, with her effortless regality, moved to the edge of the dais with Ehrik at her side. Ehrik announced the full recovery of the Madam Keeper of the Keeps of the Water and the safe birth of her child. The room erupted with deafening cheers. When the room finally began to calm several minutes later, Sarantha turned and walked, smiling, back to her seat to take her meal.

Trivalm spent the meal trying to glance at Sarantha under the table. She seemed well enough. She seemed to be eating and conversing easily. The rapists on display were briefly inquired over. Evidently there was one missing. However, throughout the conversation, Sarantha didn't seem bothered by the brutality. Trivalm had to remind himself that in this country rapists were not considered men. They were nothing, even lower in status than slaves. Soon the conversations continued away from the latest entertainment. Most of the talk seemed to be centered around her desires for the celebration of her child's birth. Sarantha seemed more concerned that those attending enjoyed themselves than any actual planning.

She paused only momentarily when Ehrik informed her that the King was en route to the Keep. The Healer he had left behind had kept the ruler informed of her progress. King Jecis had left the Capital several days before and was scheduled to arrive soon, possibly even the next day. Sarantha only responded by indignantly informing her brother that the King's arrival would not be permitted to interrupt the child's presentation. Perplexing woman.

Trivalm felt rage start to smolder in his gut. How dare he! How dare the King, as a man, force himself into the presence of the woman he attempted to rape. It was bad enough that the maggot had forced her onto his arm the very next day, made her parade around the shops and trader's area wearing his gifts like she was his whore. She had done it with a smile, most likely because she feared the consequences of what would happen if she defied him. Trivalm remembered the way she had sobbed in terror. That kind of fear didn't dissipate overnight.

Suddenly, Sarantha's attention turned to Trivalm. "Has my little slave been behaved, brother? Is he healing well?"

"Yes, little sister, your slave was well behaved." Ehrik sighed. "He is healing well from his punishment. He spends most of his days with the other slaves in the training rooms-"

"That's not good for him!" Sarantha was appalled. "It will cause him to become violent."

"Little sister, he is a War General." Ehrik sounded exasperated. "He has spent years in the training rooms."

The two went back and forth. Sarantha was convinced that the training rooms would negatively affect Trivalm and keep him from settling. She used Ebon as her argument. The dark-skinned slave had never been allowed to the training rooms, and look how gentle he was with her Ivory. Trivalm couldn't help the snort of derision, remembering the multiple times Ebon had attacked him. Ehrik obviously felt the same way because he actually stuttered a moment before giving up and simply agreeing that Ebon was indeed extremely gentle with Ivory.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, the child began to fuss. Trivalm was confused when the midwife took the child to nurse, to Sarantha's obvious displeasure.

She turned to Ehrik with a frown. "The nurse maid has been sleeping in my slave's bed. She will need to sleep elsewhere."

"And why is that, little sister?" Ehrik was obviously trying to play dumb.

Sarantha either didn't notice, or chose to ignore it, because her voice was sweet and accommodating when she explained what she obviously thought was clear. "Because, brother, my slave will need his bed to sleep and they cannot both fit comfortably there."

"And when your slave returns to your rooms, the bed he uses will be vacant. Until then it will be used for the nurse maid."

Sarantha's lips thinned and her eyes narrowed. Before she could lash out at her brother-in-law though, Alaliya spoke.

"My dear sister, we only worry over the child's safety. You allow your slaves such freedom-"

"Less than you allow Triya." Sarantha's response was short. She was obviously at the end of her patience. She shot to her feet, her head held high. "I am finished with this. My little slave needs to be back in his home. The midwife will be gone tonight so my little slave may sleep comfortably in his own new bed. Come, little slave."

Trivalm was instantly on his feet. He needed to talk to Sarantha. He was only a step behind her as she took her child from the nurse maid and walked from the room.

When they reached her room, Ebon and Ivory were already there. Ebon was telling the little woman something she obviously didn't like because she sat on Sarantha's bed pouting, her little arms crossed across her chest and her face scrunched up as she glared down into her lap. As soon as he heard the door, Ebon stopped his lecture, turning to his Mistress with a small smile.

"I am exhausted, little slaves." Sarantha said, laying the sleeping child in her crib. "Little slave, choose a story." She didn't spare him a second glance as she slid into her comfortable, oversized bed.

Trivalm didn't want to read to her. He wanted to know what had happened after he'd been banished from the room. "Sarantha, what-"

The tiny woman was on her feet, advancing on him so fast and with such purpose that Trivalm actually took a step back, momentarily stunned by Sarantha's aggressive posture.

"No! No! You will not disobey! You will not speak so disrespectfully! I told you to go pick a story, little slave! The only words you need speak are 'yes, Mistress' and go do as you were instructed!" She was nearly shaking in anger. "See? You spent time with those other war slaves and now you have regressed! You were doing so well and now it is all wasted!" The tiny woman stepped right up to him, her fists clenched in anger. "Do you wish to be punished again? Is that it? The King will be here any day! Do you want him to hurt you? He will already be upset with me! Do you want him to take it out on you?"

In the second Sarantha took to inhale before she could continue her rant, Trivalm stopped her dead in her tracks.

"If it keeps you from being harmed, I will gladly take any punishment the King can mete out, Mistress."

Sarantha, momentarily speechless, just blinked up at him. After a moment, she pursed her lips. "Well, with how difficult the birth was, I'm sure the King has changed his mind. We need only make it through this visit, then we will go home and we can get you settled properly." She gave him a small smile. "Would you like my Ivory to soothe you before our story, little slave?"

Trivalm glanced at Ivory on the bed before looking down at his Mistress. Sarantha looked exhausted. Guilt still beat at him, making him prone to doing what would amuse her. But he undoubtedly did not wish to have sex with the pale creature looking at him expectantly. Saying so bluntly would be offensive to both women.

"Mistress, I worry that such activity would wake the child. I would, however, enjoy being soothed by a story."

At his words, Ivory went back to pouting. Sarantha's small smile didn't waver as she nodded and settled herself on her bed. She was asleep before Trivalm returned with the book.

Ebon, seeing this, directed Ivory into the cage. Trivalm settled himself onto his small bed before being directed there. He pulled the chain onto the bed, but did not lock the manacle around his ankle. It would be dishonorable to harm the new mother while she slept. If he did and made it out the door, where would he go? He'd never make it out of the Keep. Even so, he would never leave the other Generals behind.