Jim Butcher - Furies of Calderon

The woman helped, dragging Isana back with a cool efficiency.

"Nasty, nasty," the woman said. "You must be careful, or you'll burn."

She sat back from Isana, tilting her head to one side and studying her. "My name is Odiana," she said then. "And you and I are prisoners together."

"Prisoners," Isana whispered. Her voice came out in a croak, and she had to cough painfully. "Prisoners where? What's wrong with my legs?"

"Kordholt, I think they called it," Odiana said. "You're experiencing crafting sickness. When Kord found you by the banks of the flood, your head was broken. They made me mend it."

"You?" Isana asked. "But you were trying to hurt Tavi."

"The pretty boy?" Odiana asked. "I wasn't hurting him. I was killing him. There's a difference." She sniffed and said, "It wasn't anything personal."

"Tavi," Isana said, coughing again. "Is Tavi all right?"

"How should I know?" Odiana said, her tone faintly impatient. "You tore my eyes out, woman. The next thing I saw was that ugly brute."

"Then you're not-" Isana shook her head. "Kord took you prisoner?"

She nodded, once. "He found me after the flood. I had just put my eyes back together." Odiana smiled. "I've never managed my nails like that before. You'll have to show me how it's done."

Isana stared at the woman for a moment, then said, "We have to get out of here."

"Yes," Odiana agreed, looking at the door. "But that seems unlikely for the moment. He's a slaver, isn't he, this Kord?"

"He is."

The dark haired woman's eyes glinted. "I thought as much."

The thirst in her throat abruptly became too much for Isana to ignore, and she murmured, "Rill, I need water."

Odiana let out an impatient sigh. "No," she said. "Don't be an idiot. He's ringed us in fire. Dried us out. Your fury cannot hear you, and even if it could, you'd not be able to dampen a washcloth."

Isana shivered, and for the first time since she'd found Rill, she felt no quivering response to her call, no reassuring presence of the water fury. Isana swallowed, eyes shifting around the interior of the building. Meat hung from hooks on some of the walls, and smoke lingered in the air. A smokehouse then, at Kord's steadholt.

She was a prisoner at Kord's steadholt.

The thought chilled her, sent a quiver creeping along her scalp, to the roots of her hair.

Odiana watched her in silence and then nodded, slowly. "He doesn't

intend for us to ever leave this place, you know. I felt that in him before he brought us here."

"I'm thirsty," Isana said. "Hot enough to kill us in here. I have to get a drink."

"They left us two tiny cups of water," Odiana said, nodding to the far side of the circle.

Isana looked until she saw the pair of wooden cups and pulled herself to them. The first she picked up was light, empty. She dropped it to one side, her throat on fire, and tried the second.

It was empty as well.

"You were asleep," Odiana said, calmly. "So I drank it."

Isana stared at the woman in disbelief. "This heat could kill us," she told her, struggling to keep an even tone.

The woman smiled at her, a lazy, languid smile. "Well it won't kill me. I've drunk enough for two."

Isana clenched her teeth together. "It makes the most sense anyway. Use it. Call your fury and send for help."

"We're far from any help, holdgirl."

Isana pressed her lips together. "Then when one of them comes in-"

Odiana shook her head slowly and spoke in a cool, passionless, practical tone. "Do you think they've never done this before? This is what slavers do, holdgirl. They left enough to keep us alive. Not enough to allow one of us full use of her fury. I'd try, it wouldn't work, and they'd punish both of us."

"So that's it?" Isana said. "We don't even try?"

Odiana closed her eyes for a moment, looking down. Then she said, very quietly, "We're only going to get one chance, holdgirl."

"I'm not a gi-"

"You're a child," Odiana hissed. "Do you know how many slaves are raped within a day or so of capture?"

The thought made Isana feel cold again. "No."

"Do you know what happens to the ones who resist?"

Isana shook her head.

Odiana smiled. "Take it from me. You only get to resist once. And after that, they make sure that you never want to try it again."

Isana stared at the woman for a long moment. Then she said, "How long were you a slave?"

Odiana brushed her hair back away from her face with one hand and

said, voice cool, "When I was eleven, our Steadholder sold my father's debt to a group of slavers. They took all of us. They killed my father and my oldest brother, and the baby. They took my mother, my sisters, me. And my youngest brother. He was pretty." Her eyes grew distant, and she focused them on the far wall. Fire glowed in them, reflection. "I was too young. I hadn't begun my cycle, or come into my furycrafting. But I did that night. When they took me. Passed me around the fire like a flask of wine. It woke up, and I could feel everything they felt, holdgirl. All of their lust and their hate and fear and hunger. It washed through me. Into me." She began to rock back and forth on her heels. "I don't know how you came into yours, watercrafter. When you first started feeling other folk. But you must thank all the furies of Carna that it wasn't like my awakening." The smile crept back to her lips. "It's enough to drive one mad."

Isana swallowed and said, "I'm sorry. But Odiana, if we can work together-"

"We can get killed together," Odiana said, her voice becoming edged again. "Listen to me, holdgirl, and I'll tell you what happens. I've done it before."

'All right," Isana said, quietly.

"There are two kinds of slavers," Odiana said. "The ones in it for professional reasons, and the ones who take it personally. Professionals work for the Consortium. They don't allow anyone to damage or use their merchandise, unless it's as discipline. If they like you, they'll invite you to their tent and give you nice food and talk and charm you. It's the same as a rape, only it takes longer and you get a good meal and a soft bed afterward."

"That's not Kord."

"No, it isn't. He's the other kind. Like the ones who took my family. For him, it's knowing he's beating someone. Knowing he's breaking someone. He doesn't want to deliver a high-quality product, ready to work or pleasure. He wants us broken into pieces. He wants us to be animals." She smiled and said, "When he takes us, that's just part of the process that he enjoys a bit more than the others."

Isana's stomach quailed. "Takes us," she whispered. "He's-"

The other woman nodded. "If he wanted to kill you you'd already be dead. He has other plans for you." She sneered. "And I saw some of the other women he keeps at this place. Rabbits. Sheep. He likes them helpless. Not fighting back." She shivered and stretched, her back arching sinuously,

her eyes closing for a moment. She moved one hand to the throat of her blouse, tugging at it, pulling buttons open, the sweaty cloth clinging to her.

"Are you all right?" Isana asked.

Odiana licked her lips and said, "I don't have much time. Listen to me. For him, the game is breaking you, and to do that he has to make you afraid. If you aren't afraid, he has no power over you. If you're quiet and reserved, you aren't what he wants. Do you understand?"

"Y-yes," Isana said. "But we can't just stay here-"

"We survive for as long as you don't break," Odiana said. "To him I'm nothing but a pretty whore to be used. You he wants broken. As long as you remain in control of yourself, he doesn't get what he wants."

"What happens if I do break?"

"He kills you," she said. "And he kills me because I saw you, and he hides the bodies. But it won't be an issue."