"How much did you hear," John asked, fearing the worst.
"Enough."
He couldn't tell from the one word whether she was angry or not. So he did the only thing he could do. He followed after her silently.
As he'd guessed, she took him straight to the portal room.
"Celia!" George bellowed happily.
Or maybe it was George's twin...
"George," Celia replied enthusiastically, her facing melting into adoration right on cue. "Your shift started already?"
"Aye," he said with a sigh before his eyes went to John and he rubbed his chin. "Is this the new novice I've heard about?"
"Indeed. Who knew they'd let a Tracker like me take on a novice?" Celia gushed, almost making even John believe she was excited about the opportunity. "We're going to finish my rounds. I nearly forgotten that I had two cities left. When Priscilla told me about this morning's meeting, I didn't have time to finish."
"For a Slayer with perfect memory," George said with an enduring smile. "You have a way of forgetting things."
"Some days I think I'd lose my head if it wasn't attached to me!" Celia agreed with a laugh.
A slave suddenly appeared carrying a bag that looked heavy and panting as if she'd ran a ways.
"Mistress," a woman's meek voice said from deep within the white hood. She dipped her head and held up the package. "You forgot this."
"Oh dear," Celia said, her laughter dying. "Master Tarspy wouldn't have been pleased if I'd forgotten that!"
"You know you don't have to carry packages for those people." George sniffed.
Celia picked the package up with one hand and waved a dismissive hand at George with the other. "Nonsense. We serve the people, George. Not the other way around. Now, if you could be so kind and open a portal to Myra for me, I'd greatly appreciate it."
"A heart of gold," George muttered, but his fond smile returned. Turning to one of the mages that stood next to him, he nodded.
With a wave of the mage's hand, a series of engraved numbers along the top of the wall took on the same blue glow he'd seen in the Waypoints. Out of reflex, John committed the numbers to memory as they appeared.
Upon activation a section of the stone wall melted into the now familiar blue liquid. However, unlike before, it's transformation didn't stop at becoming a liquid and continued to morph until it dissolved into mist.
"You only have a few hours until sunset in Myra," George warned.
Celia nodded. "Thank you. We should be back before then."
Taking her cue, John braced himself and walked straight into the portal. He thought he'd be use to the confusion and gut wrenching vertigo that came with portal travel by now.
He was wrong.
Stumbling the first few steps, he made for the nearest wall and leaned against it until the world stopped spinning. Celia, who didn't seem bothered at all by the portal, stepped through with ease and hit the kill switch.
When the portal became a stone wall again, she turned to him and said in an all business tone, "You done?"
The earlier laughing lines in her face and the smile in her voice had become replaced by the cold demeanor he'd come to know.
"Yeah," he replied sourly before straightening.
[Does Ce'l's spymaster know how unstable this woman is?]
It wasn't the first time he questioned his mentor's sanity and he knew it wouldn't be the last. The sound of a bell rang loudly above them and for the first time John took in his surroundings. The room they were in was medium in size, and all around them giant formless creatures stood over them. It took John a second to realize the creatures were furniture that had been covered by dingy white cloth. Dust clung to the air like a thick haze, and it caked everything in sight. He could just make out light footprints in the floorboards, as if someone had disturbed the dust a week ago and enough time had passed for the suffocating dust to cover the tracks back up.
[Are we in a basement?]
"Some portals can be found in cities," Celia explained, making for a doorway off in the distance. "For those that are, Tekal has made sure to own the buildings that house them."
[Makes sense. Portals are suppose to be another heavily guarded secret. Wouldn't want a nation getting any bright ideas about invading another nation with one.]
"So both of the twins are named George?" John asked, following after her.
"I know," Celia said with a half smile. "Their mother must have been the laziest person in the world."
The doorway led to a small chamber with a rope that dropped down from the ceiling and continued down into a small hole in the floor. Looking up, John saw the ceiling was at least two hundred feet high.
He whistled.
[Are we in a bell tower? That would mean we are in the attic.]
"Try and keep up," Celia said, before launching herself into the air towards one of the tower's walls. Finding a foothold, she pushed herself off and flew to the other side. Back and forth she zigzagged upwards until she made it to the very top. Grabbing onto a stone ledge, she pushed herself off the wall next to her and sent her feet into the trap door above her head, disappearing through it.
All the while holding onto her package for Master Tarspy.
[Show off.]
Squaring away on the foothold she'd pushed off at the start, he took a steadying breath and launched himself at it.
...And missed it completely.
"Son of a--"
His words were ended abruptly as he slammed into the tower's wall, rebounded off it, slammed into the other wall (he'd jumped that hard), before falling back to the ground face first with a bounce.
Celia, the bitch, poked her head out from the trapdoor and asked innocently, "Everything alright?"
['Everything alright' my ass,] John thought as he wordlessly rose back up and glared at the foothold that taunted him. Snorting away the pain in his nose, he tried again.
This time he hit his mark. Pushing off the hairline edge, he turned and nearly slammed into the next wall as it came rushing at him. Hastily he got his foot underneath him and pushed off the wall with a little less force.
By the time he reached the top, he felt like he'd finally gotten the hang of it.
Celia, who'd watched his second ascent, held out her hand just before he got to the trapdoor. Grabbing it, she hoisted him up through the ceiling and out into open air.
"Whoa," John said, catching himself on a stone column before he had the chance to fly off the bell tower.
And then he looked around.
"Whoa..."
[This is beautiful.]
For as far as he could see, in all directions, he saw low rolling hills covered in green topped trees. Far off to the West, he spied the purple mountain ranges of Capri.
"I have a confession to make," Celia said, plopping herself down and letting her feet dangle off the edge. "I used you to get out of Tekal and all their arguing. You and Master Tarspy."
At the mention of Master Tarspy, she patted the package in her hands fondly before she peeled back the wrapping. Smells of sweet pastries tickled his nose.
[Wait a minute…]
"Tarspy… That's an anagram for Pastry!"
The laughing lines that had disappeared earlier returned.
"I'm surprised you know what an anagram is," the wiseass said with a smirk.
John eyed the city that surrounded them and then his eyes inevitably found the ground immediately in front of them and felt vertigo start to take hold of him.
"Don't worry, you'd survive the fall," she said as she plucked at the paper wrapping from the icing slathered pastry. "Bloody hell, having a Slayer's metabolism does wonders for a girl's spirits at times like these."
He kept his commentary to himself as he cautiously eased himself down on the ledge next to her.
[I don't care if I'd survive the fall. No man in their right mind should be this high up, let alone allow their feet to dangle free!]
Heart beating in his ears, he swallowed the lump in his throat and tried to focus on anything but the ground.
John turned in time to watch his mentor take a bite of her pastry. His… he wouldn't call it a fear of heights, just a strong dislike of falling to his death… eased some as he watched the distractingly beautiful woman pull away from the soft cake with icing on her nose. Her eyes were closed in complete bliss as she chewed and, for a brief moment, John saw a woman.
Not that he'd ever thought of her as a man--that would have been impossible considering how much he'd seen of her--but he didn't see the hardened survivalist she surrounded herself with when she was with him.
"It's all an act, isn't it?" John whispered, turning back to the scenic view before him. "The clothes you wear, the persona you give off... Do you know what they think of you?"
"Dumber than a doorknob," she said, eyes practically cooing. She was really enjoying her pastry. If she was upset in any way by Dylan's words, she didn't show it.
"Only the paranoid survive, John," she said to her pastry. "They can't see past what we show them, so they have no reason to dig deeper. I've already told you this. You can't let them near the real you. Not all of you at least. That path leads to torture and death."
She paused in her worship of the pastry and gave him a hard look.
"Have you thought about what it's like for a Slayer to be tortured? I don't think you have. We heal, John. They can do their worst, we'd feel every painful second of it, and then we'd heal. They could do it again. And again. And again."
John thought of the man back in the Empire that had been tortured for deserting, and then imagined him healing from that only to experience it all over again… and again.
He shuddered at the thought.
"I just don't see how you can live this life," he said, shaking his head.
Against his better judgement, he was starting to feel sorry for the woman.
He also privately wondered if the bad mouthed violently hardened side of her was even the real her. Or was it just another act for his benefit?
"We all have a price to pay," she said shrugging. "Now eat a damn cookie and let me enjoy my favorite spot in peace."
Wordlessly John took the cookie she offered.
He took a bite.
And then another.
[OK, that is a damn good cookie.]
For a long moment, they sat there and watched the sun slowly make its way across the sky towards the horizon. The clouds changed in color at a snail's pace and John marveled at how the blues, yellows, oranges, reds and purples all mingled together and changed the sky like a tantalizing slow dance.
"I have a confession to make too," John finally blurted, breaking their moment. "But you have to promise me that you won't say a word...or do anything... until after I'm done."
Curious eyes searched his before she popped the last bite of a cookie she'd been nursing into her mouth.
"I'm not going to like this, am I?" she said between bites.
"Probably not."
She closed her eyes, swallowed, took a deep breath, and then waved her hand. "Alright, hit me."
Taking his own steadying breath, he told her everything that had transpired in his room. Everything. He used his Slayer memory and left nothing out. He debated while they were enjoying the pastries on whether or not he should leave anything out, but he eventually came to the conclusion that he'd be better off being upfront with her.
"So that's what you'd missed," John said, finishing his retelling.
Silently, he braced himself for what he knew was to come.
[She's going to push me off this ledge. Here it comes...]
Celia roared with laughter.
John blinked.
She glanced at him again, and then let loose another loud round of laughter.
"Are you going to knock me off this tower now or later...?" John said, confused.
"You couldn't make that up, could you?" she said between fits of laughter. "That really happened?"
John gave her an offended look.
"Yeah…"
Laughing, Celia wiped away tears from her eyes as she tried to reign in her composure.
"Shit that's funny," she said, wiping another tear from her eye. "Nina Alwin a fucking Slayer! Her father has got to be pissed. She's his only daughter. Why didn't I notice her before?" Celia trailed off in thought.
"Did you not hear about the part where Maya offered her name to me?" he demanded.
"And where you're hopelessly in love with me?" Celia added, laughing again. "Gods you kill me. I was worried that you'd fucked up and that I'd have to kill you."
[Well that's morbidly depressing.]
"I'm glad you find that funny," he said, his annoyance clear in his voice.
"Look, don't worry about Maya," Celia said, waving her hand. "She was quick on her feet and took the only option available to her. It's what I would have done in her shoes. I have to give you some points for the love angle, though. I wouldn't have thought of that and it works. Hell, I could have fun with that."
John saw the evil look in her eye and immediate he shook a finger at her. "No. Whatever it is you are thinking of, don't do it."
She waved a dismissive hand at him. "Don't get your panties in a wad. Just idle thoughts."
"Well now you're going to have to tell me what the hell taking a slave's name means," John demanded, feeling both relief and frustration at the same time. "I can't go into this blind any more."
This time Celia hesitated.
"It's complicated," she eventually said.
The idea of pushing her off the tower popped into his head but he ruefully squashed it.
"So uncomplicate it," he said.
Their eyes met and when she saw he wasn't backing down she finally gave in with a sigh.
"When a slave gives you their name it's, in a way, a sign of their complete and utter trust in you. They are effectively binding themselves to you permanently. If you go out and buy a slave, they have no choice in the matter who their master is but, when they give you their name, that's something they have a choice in. Why Nina and Cedrick weren't worried when she said that was because she'd never betray you. It's… like a blood oath. If you thought it necessary, you could kill her and no one would bat an eye so long as your crest was tattooed on her cheek. Giving up a name means they give up their last few rights as a slave, one of which is their freedom. They can never be freed, even if their master wished it. At the same time, though, they can't ever be sold to anyone else. The only reason a slave would do this is if they wanted to become a Maiden to their Master."
She held his gaze and made sure he fully comprehended what she was saying. When his eyes widened, she nodded. "Which is why Dylan asked if you even had a Headmistress. She can not become your Maiden unless your Headmistress approves. Sadly, few ever do. Most Headmistresses string them along, and use them as sex slaves for their husbands… for when the Headmistress and Maidens don't feel like satisfying their husband's needs. By law a slave can't bare any children, so they are forced on a strict diet of silphium tea until the Headmistress accepts her. It's very rare for a man to have a slave who gives their name and not have a Headmistress. There is no... control… in the bedroom."
John blinked.
And then blinked again.
"Sex… slave?"
She slowly nodded, her eyes measuring his.
"You've got to be fucking kidding me," he muttered darkly. "That's sick."
Celia's eyes lost their edge and she nodded. "It is, I'm glad you agree."
And then it hit him.
"Wait, were you concerned that I'd take advantage of her?"
"The thought crossed my mind," she said dryly.
"Hells bells woman, what kind of a monster do you think I am?"
"A man," Celia said. There wasn't any humor in her voice.
John snorted. "If that's what you think, then you've been talking to the wrong kind of men."
"I won't argue that," she said with a faint smile, but he could tell her thoughts were elsewhere.
Snapping out of it, her head jerked to the trapdoor behind them.
The bell that hung over their heads suddenly lurched to the side as the rope was pulled downward, and then it fell back. John had just enough time to brace himself, but strangely he heard no bell. In fact, he heard nothing.
[Of course, a barrier.]
"Thanks," he said, feeling the stone beneath him vibrate violently to the onslaught that was happening just outside of the barrier. "That would have been excruciatingly painful, I think."
"You have no idea," she said, wincing from a memory.
"So what am I going to do about Maya?" he said, getting back on topic.
When she gave him a questioning look, he said, "I had planned on freeing her right after this mission was over. But if she gets herself tattooed…"
He let the implications hang in the air. She'd be masterless when he left, in a land where no one would take her. And there was no way in hell he could take her back to the Empire with him.
Celia dropped the barrier with a shrug. "It's a cruel world, John. She made her choice. There's nothing you can do about it. Focus on the mission and then put her behind you."
"I can't accept that," he said, shaking his head. "There has to be another way. If I'm from the House of Tekal, then wouldn't she have Tekal's crest on her cheek? Couldn't any Slayer from the House of Tekal take her after I leave?"
Celia shook her head. "When she goes in to get her tattoo at the magistrate's office, you have to be there with her papers. As part of the process, since you didn't have a House before coming to Tekal, you will come up with your own family crest based on Tekal's three triangles. She is binding herself to you, not just your House."
"That's ridiculous," he scoffed. "Couldn't I just use your crest?"
Celia laughed at the ridiculousness of that idea. "No, every crest is unique. They compare any new crest to all existing ones before they give approval. By law they also have to go to the three other nations and confirm that your crest doesn't match any of theirs. A copy of it is saved there temporarily if it isn't, so no one else can use it. Once all nations confirm it's unique, then Tekal will send a final notice out against the temporary holds, making them permanent. No way to work the system."
John chewed on this until Celia stood up.
"We need to get back, the sun is setting."
He looked off into the distance where the sun was resting on the horizon. Far off to the East, where the sun had already setted, John heard the distinctive howl of a Hellhound.
He shuddered, and not just because of the chill that came with the setting sun.
"I have to make a drop tonight," Celia said, clearly not happy by this. "But because of where the drop is, I'm going to need you to do it for me. It would be too… inconvenient… for me if I was seen there."
"Where is the drop?" John asked curiously.
"At a pleasure house in Boco Bay."
"I see," he said, his tone neutral. "Aren't you supposed to be mentoring me at night though?"
She shook her head. "No. Because of the Kill Squad debacle, Headmistress has demanded that the squads are sorted out before there are any more hunts. It's her way of lighting a fire under their asses. So the novices are free again tonight, as are some of the Slayers--myself included. Normally there aren't that many people in the pleasure houses at night, which is why we'd scheduled the drop tonight, but because of the recent turn of events there are bound to be Slayers there. And I have to get in touch with Ce'l about everything that's happened."
He nodded, "OK. Just tell me what I need to do."
"First things first," she said, standing. "We need to get back to Tekal before George sends people looking for us. Go to your room and wait for me there. The drop isn't for another four hours so we have some time to kill."
John frowned as he stood as well.
"Wait, how would you have gotten into Tekal without being seen? From what I heard, Trackers are expected to track at night."
Celia gave him a knowing smile and said, "Need to know."
Her three favorite words.
"Now," she said, pulling back the trapdoor. "Are you going to jump or do I have to push you?"
To John's relief, Maya wasn't in his apartment when he returned. Foolishly, he had thought Maya never left his room and had been wracking his brain on what to say to her when he walked in.
Feeling like he'd dodged an arrow, he sat down on his chair and eyed the unfinished stones board.
"Now what?"
His idle hands were starting to become a recurring problem.
Leaving the apartment wasn't an option, as much as he wished it was. Avoiding Maya would have been nice, but Celia expected him to stay put. Which also meant he couldn't seek out Cedrick to finish their game or any of the other novices.
John's eyes wandered the room until they landed on a bookshelf. Having the eyes of a Slayer allowed him to read the titles from his chair, and the very first book he spied caught his attention.
Plucking the book from the shelf, he went back to the larger sofa.
"Complete Guide to Navigating Cultures: Capri, Ghourd, and Kalian," John muttered to himself. "This oughta be good."
Flipping to the section on Ghourdian's, he started to read.
Unfortunately, he didn't get very far.
He heard the front door open and close, drawing his eyes to the entryway. Maya appeared a moment later. Realizing he was in the room and looking at her, she immediately bowed her head and lowered her eyes to the floor.
"Master," she said, stopping in her tracks. "Do you need anything?"
The tone in her voice was… tense. Knowing now what she had done, he couldn't blame her.
[What the hell am I going to do about her?]
"Some water," John said, trying to buy himself some time.
Bowing her head again, she went to the table that held a pitcher of water and poured out a glass.
Before John knew it, she had the glass in his hand and the time he thought he had bought himself evaporated.
[Well I know what I'm NOT going to do.]
"Have a seat," he said, taking the water and setting it down on the table in front of him.
She eyed the cushion directly next to him as if it were a snake, but she obeyed.
"Earlier today with the Ghourdians… I want you to know that I don't have any delusions about your motivations, and that I played along with the charade only because your safety was in jeopardy."
He reached over and grabbed her chin. She flinched, but she allowed him to tilt her head up until their eyes met.
"I also want you to know that I have no intention of honoring your request. I will deal with the Ghourdians, in time. For now, you stick with the three…" John stopped himself with a small smile. "No, four things that you have to worry about. No offense, but I like my women willing."
Maya blinked in surprise.
And then blinked again.
Wordlessly, she searched his face and John supposed she was looking for treachery. Finding none, she closed her eyes before letting out a steadying breath.
He released her chin, and felt good about himself. He had no idea how he was going to handle the Ghourdians but he figured he could string them along for a while on the premise that he was working on his family crest.
"People will gossip, Master," Maya said opening her eyes and frowning at him.
"People are entitled to their opinions," John said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Hells bells, I bet they are already gossiping about us. Regardless, it's nothing you need to worry about."
"I suppose you are right," Maya said with subtle smile.
"And don't worry," John added, trying to cheer her up. "I'll find you an honorable wealthy Caprian prince you can give your name to."
"Is that right, Master?" she asked, eyes sharpening.
"...Or a princess?" he said, suddenly unsure of himself, before he quickly added, "Not that I would judge you on your sexual preference. I mean, I'd be the last person to blame you for liking women. That's like casting stones in a glass house. Nothing beats a fine woman in…."
John closed his mouth with an audible snap before he rambled on any further.
"A corset?" Maya offered, her humor returning.
"Something like that," he said bitterly.
Misinterpreting his bitterness, she patted his arm comfortingly.
For a moment, their eyes met and John became mesmerized by her two emerald pools.
But the moment was brief and, realizing she'd overstepped her bounds somewhere along the way, she stood up.
"Shall I call for your dinner, Master?" she asked, smoothing her white robes of their fictitious wrinkles and lowered her eyes.
His mood darkened by the return of her submissive act, but he forcefully push his emotions away.
[We all have our roles to play,] he reminded himself. [And when this is over she will be free.]
"That won't be necessary," he said, standing up. "In fact, take the rest of the night off. I'll be out late tonight."
Her frown returned.
"The night off?"
"The night off," John reaffirmed, before picking his book back up.
Maya, who hadn't budged from her spot, silently watched him read. She still wore her frown. Thumbing through the book, he tried to find where he'd left off. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Maya finally move but she didn't travel very far.
Wordlessly she walked to her spot near the glass door, and turned to watch him read his book.
[What a strange woman,] John thought, before giving up and flipping to the section on Caprians.