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I was half-choked, half-led to a wagon set back from the main circle. Apparently those who were hired for the fighting did not have a space in the market. I supposed that was just as well. Zhura and Shiza would never sell anything with those scowls. I really wished that I’d been able to have better clothes; I looked a mess. And I kept wondering where my sling bag and other possessions were. Time will tell, I mused. Shiza moved to the side of the wagon and returned with a yard-long wooden stake. It had a metal ring through the top end. She also hefted a mallet. She handed me the stake and stepped back to unlimber her bow. She tossed the mallet to my feet and nodded at it.

"Pound the stake into the ground right there, dog," she hissed. "If we have to keep you, you will be kept like a dog. Chained." The leather thong about my neck slithered away and a brief tug told that Zhura was cutting my arms free. Not that I would do anything, mind you. I was pretty well covered. If I had chosen to run, I’d have been dead within four steps. I shrugged my shoulders in order to loosen up. Bending to retrieve the stake and mallet, I paused to check out the surroundings. If I could just move this thing about five feet to the right, I’d have shade almost all day. I stepped over, and surprisingly, Zhura let me move. I placed the stake point between my bare feet and trapped it with my knees. I had to bend a bit to do so, eliciting a snigger from Shiza, but I only had one good arm. I played at fumbling with the mallet, and it wasn’t too far from the truth. But I managed a couple of heavy hits - enough to drive the stake into the dirt. I stood up and really put my back into it.

"Stop!" Shiza said as I had the stake nearly buried. I was sweating lightly, but the work felt wonderful. Zhura opened a panel on the wagon and hefted out both a brace of shackles and a thick coil of heavy rope. She had a beautiful knot tied in an impressively short time, and had me leashed. The manacles around my feet bothered me - even more than I would admit to myself. I would rather have had my hands tied, but I doubted I was to be given any choice.

When I was securely tied to the stake, only then did Shiza relax and stow her weapons in the wagon. She then glanced at me as I sat there on my haunches, watching her.

"You will be of some use to us, Dog," she muttered. "I won’t feed you and get nothing in return."

"I am not here to make your life miserable, Shiza," I said. The woman whirled and drew a knife. She stalked back to me, furious.

"Do not soil my name with your breath, cur! Slaves do not speak unless spoken to." The blade skimmed lightly over my neck. "Understand?"

"Yes, but I am not your slave," I whispered. "What will you have me call you then?" I tried to soften my gaze - there was no reason to fight with her, really.

"I think Mistress is good for the nonce," she chuckled evilly. "What do you think, Zhura?" The latter poked her head out of the wagon.

"I think you have a problem, Shiza," murmured the brunette. "Just leave him be."

"What?! You were ready to string him up earlier," accused Shiza. "Don’t tell me he’s getting to you." That comment caused me to sit flat in surprise. The slightly open mouth of Zhura told me she read it the same way.

"I think," said Zhura with a evil smile, "that it is you whom he is getting to." Zhura’s shared observation had an immediate effect.

Shiza slapped me hard. "Nope. I’d just as soon kill him," she hissed. "Why?" Zhura’s question seemed to bring Shiza up short.

"What do you mean ’why’?" Shiza pointed at me with the knife. I watched the point carefully as she gesticulated as she spoke. "Just look at him," she said as if that explained everything.

What is so wrong with me? I thought. Despite my current predicament, I was offended, I think.

"Yes, Shiza, look at him," whispered Zhura as she stepped out of the wagon with a hair brush in her hand. She moved with a languid, feline grace, and the fact that I noticed this made me more than passing nervous. "He has excellent hand-to-hand skills. He abused Calchas, which is a good thing in my mind." Zhura stood close to me, daring me to try something. She looked down her perfectly straight nose and leveled her ice-blue gaze on me. "He has the physique of a warrior, I mean look at these shoulders.calluses in the right places. He has excellent presence of mind, if foolish loyalties." She paused again looking at both Shiza and I. "He volunteered to take the lashes for Mugha." The gaze pierced me. "Which I do not understand, but applaud." She looked sideways at Shiza. "And you have to admit, if he can teach us to hand-fight, then he’s worth the small trouble he’s going to give us. Right?" this last word ended with Zhura thumping me on the head with the brush.

"I will be no trouble to you at all, save that you remember my warning to you." I took in both of their gazes. "I am no slave, nor will I be. I will serve you so long as my life depends on it, but nary a second later. Now, what will you have of me, my mistresses?"

"You see, Shiza? You need only speak his language," chuckled Zhura. "Too bad he’s so ugly, or you could find more pleasurable uses for him."

I refused to be baited, so I smiled in my most obsequious tone. "Shall I prepare supper, mistresses?" I had spied some foodstuffs hanging from the wagon’s sideboard. "I need only have a small knife to cut the vegetables."

Zhura looked at me with both a scowl and a warning. I waved her warning off; I was going nowhere with a damaged arm.

"You’ll get your knife back as soon as I’m done. You can even watch me if you are so worried," I held out my hand, and Zhura put her small belt knife in my palm.

"I order you to cook me dinner and when you are done, to return my knife," whispered Zhura. I smiled. She learned fast. "You are bound by something, but I know not what. I think you will give us no problem now. Later I am not so sure."

"I am but yours to command, mistress Zhura," I said in my most oily, sycophantic tone. It fell ironically flat.

"I know, Dog. I know," she quipped. "Don’t do anything to get yourself killed until after you have taught me how to hand-fight."

"As you wish, mistress Zhura," I whispered. "With your permission I will start supper." I stood stiffly, and then paused. "You do like onions, no?" I let the question hang as I smiled and went to start dinner. The two went inside to tender their own needs. I started slicing onion.

What I ended up with wasn’t the worst thing I’d ever concocted, but damn it was spicy. Shiza had supplied me with a half of a chicken, a pot and fresh water, to which I added some thick red wine, pieces of both potato and onion, candra stalks - cut across the grain, of course - and onion. Lots of onion. I cut the chicken into manageable pieces and added them as well. The whole mish-mash began to boil over the fire near my feet when the D’Shan’s guards came for me. The six sober-faced men all wore dark blue shirts with black sashes, all wore rapiers or sabers. I finished cleaning the knife and washed the butcher block with water from the clay pitcher. In the middle of brushing out her hair, Zhura stood from her post on the wagon’s steps.

"Aedus, well met!"

"Greetings Zhura," muttered the leader. "Where is Shiza, hiding from her new slave?" The man’s gruff, but jovial tone brought a smile to my face. He reminded me of someone from long into my past. Zhura, too, smiled, but his eyes remained on me the whole time that I paid attention to him approach. The man’s green eyes kept sliding over to me, checked the ’leash’ and then back to the knife I was cleaning. The curiosity was burning in him, but whether it was concerning the fact that I carried a knife or something else I couldn’t tell.

"I heard that, you strutting peacock," accused a voice floating out from inside the wagon. Shiza’s head appeared in the window slightly above me. "Do you want to see who’s afraid of who, Aedus? Or have you forgotten our last wrestling match?" Shiza seemed about to say something else, but her nose twitched and her brown eyes dropped to meet mine. "That smells pretty damn good, Dog," she whispered. "Maybe there is use for you after all."

Across the way, Aedus chuckled and cast knowing looks at his men. "Oh, no, Shiza," he cajoled. "I have certainly not forgotten our match. What man could." The detachment of dark-haired men laughed. "But, as I am not a stupid man, I would gladly take you one on one anytime." This further caused some laughter.

"Bah!" Zhura said. "Shiza has been captivated by our captive, she has been spoiled for other men."

"All of you can stuff it," muttered Shiza. Her head disappeared, only to return again just as quickly. Her gaze leveled on mine. "Don’t even believe that she speaks truth," she hissed. And then she was gone again.

I wiped my hands on the towel and dumped it on the sideboard. As I turned, I caught the slight scent of spice on the breeze. Zhura was nearing me.

"You use a spiced wood brush, no?" My question seemed to anger Zhura, but for a reason I did not fathom.

"Shut up," she ordered. "That is not a question that is appropriate to ask in your position. Aedus is here to escort you to the D’Shan." Her sudden ire was hard on her features. I was going to apologize, but she turned quickly and stalked off to the wagon. Women, I thought.

I cut a quick glance at the detachment’s leader. He was regarding Zhura with a strange look of amusement. I pulled the pot off the flames and set out a hunk of bread and some dried cheese. I set only two plates, knowing that I wouldn’t be back for a while. I dumped some of the wash-water on the fire and it hissed and popped in frustration as it died. I would have stomped out the ashes, but I wore nothing but thin leather sandals - and would have fared badly, being shackled. Shiza appeared once again in the window, and threw Aedus the key to the manacles on my feet.

As I was freed, I spoke to the wagon’s window. "Supper is ready. I will, of course, wash up after I return." I didn’t believe I would actually get a response. I was slightly taken aback when Zhura appeared in the doorway and stepped lightly down the steps. Her hair was freed and it shone with healthy lustre. As she stepped closer, what I first thought was a small comb turned out to be a stick of wood wrapped with leather. It looked like it had been chewed on by a dog. In that crashing instant, I knew what the D’Shan wanted me for. And I knew, without any doubt, what the wooden block was for.