Page 41 of The Omega Slave

“He is between shift,” Elainore stated. “If he holds this change, as I have commanded him to do, his body will break apart. As it is, every muscle, every nerve screams in agony. He has a beast’s heart, which is strong, but not even he can withstand this sort of pain.”

“How long?” Gabar whispered in a kind of detached fascination.

She shrugged. “Long enough that if you want him to live, he won’t ever want to repeat this and will do whatever is necessary to make sure of that.” She glanced over at Gabar. “I can also command him to take his own life.”

Gabar’s mouth gaped. Ibrahim was one of the most obsequious individuals he knew, but that was simply born of self-interest. He had power in his own small world and would do whatever it took to retain that. He would not willingly take his life.

“Show me,” he commanded.

She waved a hand and Ibrahim’s transformation into a wolf was complete, but he lay there trembling, shaking, bloody salivadripping from where his fangs had broken through his gums. “Get to your feet and extend your claws,” she ordered, and despite a whimper, claws stretched from the pads on his paws as he struggled to his feet. “Now slit your own throat and make sure it’s slow.”

Gabar watched in awe as the wolf’s right paw lifted shakily to his throat.

“You have to dig deep to get through the fur,” she said, almost as an afterthought.

Blood bloomed from the first puncture mark, but Ibrahim obeyed, slicing his claw through the fur until blood spurted from the wolf’s throat. Ibrahim fell to the ground before he’d even sliced all the way, his legs giving out. Finally, his paw lay limp as he gasped for air. His brown eyes clouded over and with a last shuddering breath, he lay still in a pool of his own blood, and shifted back to human.

Gabar met Elainore’s satisfied smile. “But he is still only a wolf. How do I know you can replicate that with a mythical creature?”

“You don’t, I suppose, until I prove it. But I also wouldn’t expect you to grant me the land until I do.”

And he only had six days.

“If we cannot transport water, how can you?”

She smiled. “We have a team of oxen and carts that can bring us the water we need, sourced from whatever river you give us permission to use.”

He laughed to himself. The Shoitan River passed through the sewers before it drained. It was completely undrinkable, and as such, useless to the city for anything other than dumping waste. Her people could wrestle with that.

He would gift them drinking water to keep her happy until Gabar no longer had need of her. It was perfect. “Let me callslaves to dispose of the mess on the floor and we can move into my private sitting room. I will summon refreshments.”

“You are too kind, my lord,” Elainore murmured.

He kept his face straight.If she only knew.

Chapter seventeen

The smell made Tsaria want to gag even before he was fully conscious, and he knew he was back in the dungeon. Tears pricked at his closed eyelids. How could Alain have done this? If he had feared for his children’s lives, then Tsaria didn’t blame him, but as his awareness solidified, so did his memories. He doubted if Alain even had children. Who wouldn’t know their own children’s names? Whispers crept into his thoughts that he belatedly realized were actual voices. He was surprised he couldn’t hear the clang of the doors, or the rattle of chains as the other prisoners tried to move about.

“You think he’s bitten the black yarrow?” came a voice, and Tsaria idly wondered which prisoner they meant. Yarrow was a simple white flower that grew everywhere. The black yarrow was similar but so named because it was deadly. It had been used over the summers as a method of suicide. Less than half a bell after eating the dark gray, almost black petals, the person would start to convulse. It was a horrific way to die, but readilyavailable. The phrase “biting the black yarrow” came to mean killing yourself, or attempting it.

“Nah, was an ambush, so I heard.”

“But why did Moxie bring ‘im in ‘ere, then? Why not leave ‘im on the road?”

“Moxie reckons someone wants ‘im. Might even get coin for his return.”

“An’ what we s’posed to do with ‘im in meantime?”

The second voice was silent, but Tsaria could imagine a shrug.

“Shouldn’t he be tied up, then?”

This time, the second voice laughed. “You know he’d be dead if he ever tried to find his way out.”

That was odd. Find his way out? How was he supposed to do that in the dungeon? Trying to take shallow breaths because of the stench, he cautiously cracked an eyelid. He wasn’t surprised at the stone wall. He’d expected that. And judging from the cold, hard ground, he hadn’t even gotten a pallet. The unexpected candlelight shining right into his eyes made pain shoot into his head so hard he wanted to vomit, and he was unable to swallow down the whine.

“Moxie!” one of them shouted way too loudly for Tsaria to stomach, and he just managed to roll slightly before he vomited then passed out again.

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