Timothy Zahn - Dragon and Slave

"Yes," Draycos said. "Interesting that you still remember even the man's name."

"What, you don't?"

"I remember the incident, certainly," Draycos said. "But I had not made a point of the name. Certainly none of it was of any large importance in my mind. It was a very minor act of mercy, as such things go. One of many that a K'da warrior does as a matter of course."

"I guess maybe it's because it was the first time I saw you do something like that," Jack said. "First time I saw anyone do something like that, come to think of it."

"And it turned out all right," Draycos pointed out. "We escaped safely."

"I still think it was a waste of effort," Jack said. "Even if we ever run into him again, which we probably won't, the guy sure isn't going to walk up and thank you."

"Reward and gratitude are not the point of such deeds," Draycos said. "The point is to do what is right, without thought of benefit or reward. Speaking of benefits, did Lisssa ever return?"

"Oh, she returned, all right," Jack said with a snort. "Over and over again, like burps from a bad meal."

Draycos frowned. "I do not understand."

"First she brought a blanket that didn't fit under the door," Jack explained.

"She took it back and brought another one. That one she managed to stuff in.

Waste of time—the thing wasn't very warm."

"Where is it?" Draycos asked, looking around.

"Back there behind the mesh," Jack said. "I didn't want room service tripping over it if someone actually decides to feed me."

"So she came here two more times?"

"Actually, she came three more times," Jack said. "The third time she brought more of those pancake things. I saved some, if you want them."

"Thank you," Draycos said, lifting his head part of the way off Jack's shoulder and nudging aside the shirt with his snout. Jack offered him a pancake, and he scooped it into his mouth with a flick of his tongue. It was dry and rather chewy, but he was too hungry to care. "I am surprised she would take such a risk so many times."

"You're not supposed to talk with your mouth full," Jack said. "Yeah, I've been wondering about that, too. Especially since Her Thumbleness is probably running her ragged during the day. She ought to be dead on her feet, not scurrying around like a mouse with insomnia."

"With what?"

"Sleeplessness," Jack said. "Can't sleep, so you get up and play cards or something."

"Ah," Draycos said. "Perhaps Doloms do not need much sleep."

"Maybe," Jack said. "That doesn't explain why she wants to play hide-and-seek with Brummgan patrols. Especially after that big speech she gave me way back when about having to look out for yourself."

"Perhaps she is one of those who speak one way but secretly act another," Draycos suggested.

"Don't say it," Jack warned.

"Do not say what?" Draycos asked.

"You're talking about me, right?" Jack growled. "I talk tough, but then I send you out to get fruit juice for Noy?"

"I was not even going to mention you," Draycos protested. "Truly."

"Yeah," Jack said, not sounding convinced. "Speaking of which... how is he?"

"I do not know," Draycos said. "He drank one and a half bottles of fruit juice, and appeared to be sleeping better when I left him. But I do not have any experience with human illnesses."

"I should have given you the comm clip," Jack said, shaking his head. "You could have called Uncle Virge. Well, maybe we can both get out there tomorrow night.

Anyway, all that juice should have helped. Thanks for doing that."

"It was my pleasure, and my duty," Draycos said. "And speaking of food...?"

"Oh, right." Jack held up another pancake. "Here."

Draycos had just finished the last one when he sensed the approach of distant footsteps. "Someone is coming," he warned Jack, listening hard. "Three Brummgas, from the sound."

"Oh, good," Jack said sourly. "Room service has finally showed up."

A minute later the door was unlocked and swung open. "You," the lead Brummga rumbled. "Come."

"Wha—?" Jack mumbled, sounding as if he had just been startled awake.

The Brummga didn't bother to repeat the order. He merely reached in and hauled Jack out. "You will come," he said, setting the boy down around the side of the frying pan and giving him a shove toward the house. "The Panjan Gazen wants you."

As Jack had expected, the Brummgas took him in through the kitchen door. Also as expected, the kitchen was bustling with slaves preparing breakfast.

Not quite as expected, though, the Brummgas did not take him directly to Gazen.

Instead, they turned him over to Heetoorieef. "I have been told to make you presentable," the Wistawk informed Jack coolly. "A breakfast has been prepared for you, as well. Do you wish food or a cleaning first?"

"I think I'll go with the cleaning," Jack said, watching as the Brummgas stomped their way out through the kitchen, the slaves scattering out of their path as they went. "It's okay—I know the way to the bathroom."

He started toward the stairs to the slave quarters. But Heetoorieef stepped into his path. "I have been ordered to keep you in the kitchen until you are called for," the Wistawk said. "There is a cleaning facility over here."

The "cleaning facility" turned out to be a slightly oversized sink with a spray nozzle. Standing beside it, Jack cleaned himself up as best he could, trying to keep out of the way of the hurrying slaves.

After the common shower rooms at the Whinyard's Edge training camp, and the even more open showers back in the slave colony, he knew he should be used to this by now. But he wasn't. Here, especially, it felt like he was taking a bath in the middle of a city park.

Though again the rest of the slaves seemed to have developed the knack of turning off their eyes to such things. No one even seemed to notice his full-sized dragon tattoo. Or if they did, they didn't mention it to him.

Heetoorieef had left a pile of clean clothes by the sink. Not a clown outfit, this time, or even the artificially cheerful household slave uniform. These were normal, everyday street clothes.

That all by itself was ominous, especially coming off of a night in the frying pan. Had Gazen decided to take Jack up on his offer to do some burglary for him?

Or was this a subtle signal that Jack had already been sold?

He was nearly dressed when the outer kitchen door was again flung open. He looked over and saw a half dozen Wistawki slaves stagger inside, with two Brummgas in the rear herding them along.

His first thought was that the whole lot of them were drunk. His second thought was that they were so utterly fatigued that they were asleep on their feet.

It was only as the first one nearly tripped and turned halfway around that he spotted the bright red lines crisscrossing his back.

The bright red of fresh blood.

Jack caught his breath, his eyes darting to each of them in turn. All six of them had been savagely whipped.

Heetoorieef was just passing by. "Heetoorieef," Jack hissed, grabbing the other's arm and jerking his head toward the bleeding Wistawki. "What happened?"

Heetoorieef looked toward the others, his alien face unreadable. "They are thieves," he said. "They stole from the slaves' food locker."

Jack felt something catch in his throat. Oh, no. "You're sure it was them?"

"The Brummgas are sure," Heetoorieef said. "That's all that matters."

"But—" Jack broke off. "Suppose they're wrong?"

"And what if they are?"

"What do you mean, what if?" Jack retorted. "They'd have beaten them for nothing."

Heetoorieef turned his eyes onto Jack. "And what if they did?"

Jack stared up at him. "Don't you even care?" he demanded.

The Wistawk looked away. "They are slaves," he said, very quietly. "I am a slave. Come, your food is ready."