Part 3

The Colossus

Chapter 26

Are You Even A Person Anymore?

When I get out of the bath for a second time I find both Xael and his sister waiting for me with their backs to my direction. While I appreciate the effort toward my modesty it feels a little pointless after the fiasco with the cream-coloured pants.

“Yeah, I’m done,” I say a little hesitantly.

“You don’t smell like fertilizer anymore?” Asks Xael without turning around.

I don’t even know what fertilizer is, but his tone makes it sound bad.

“I smell like limes,” I say with a shrug that neither of them can see.

Ilexa also doesn’t turn but she does point over at the weapons rack which now only holds a towel and one outfit instead of several.

“We don’t have time now to have you try a few different sets of clothes, but I think that blue combination will work well with the tan color of your fur.”

I’m not really sure how to respond to that either honestly. So I pause for a moment to consider it. These two have gone out of their way to help me, and while I don’t know why. Anyone can see my life has improved since they arrived.

“Thank you, both of you. I mean it. I can’t remember the last time I got new clothes.”

“Think nothing of it” replies the girl “But please thoroughly dry yourself off this time.”

Xael offers a little chuckle and I repress the urge to get mad at the little jab. I’m pretty confident it was meant in good spirits anyway.

“Yep,” I grunt. “ I will.”

Once I am dry and clothed I present myself to the pair of rich kids. After a little bit of fussing over my fur with a comb, they step back to examine me. I can see Xael has also bathed and changed clothes, though I don’t know where or how he did it so quickly, but he is in a fancy black tunic over a white long-sleeved shirt thing. There are silver figures and religious symbols I don’t recognize stitched into his tunic.

Ilexa makes a little rolling motion with her arm and gestures at me.

“Behold! Blue sleeveless doublet, over dark blue pants, with a little BloodRock icon on the breast I sewed myself I might add. I told you I would make him look good, my genius truly is unparalleled.” Beams Ilexa, though that last bit of phrasing makes me frown.

Xael inclines his head to his sister.

“ I must concede you have done well, and congratulations North you now look like a cursed human, not something hiding under a child’s bed.”

“So I didn’t need a sorcerer?” I shoot back with an awkward smile. I’m not very good at being funny but I try to joke anyway. It seems like the thing to do, and my mood is good after the rejuvenating effects of the hot water.

I had spent some of my time in the tub weighing things up. I’ve never been to House BlackMist before, though, I’ve seen it. Everyone has seen the massive tower rising high over the eastern edge of the city.

If Resh has wilfully chosen to work for them surely they aren’t doing the sort of things that happen at House Tariff parties, or the rare occasions when BloodRock himself plays host. He had promised me it wouldn’t be like that, so had Xael for that matter after he had apparently gone to visit the BlackMists.

Still, just the word ‘party’ makes me want to panic. Despite the hundreds of days since, despite my best efforts, I have never quite been able to get the taste of bone marrow out of my mouth or the screams that exhausted, ruined child had managed to summon when…’ NO! Tonight isn’t going to be like that. Resh promised, he promised.’

That was what prompted me to get out of the bathtub. Things had gotten too quiet, my thoughts had gotten too loud. So I focus instead on my new clothes and my new friends? That has to be a bit of a stretch, but the concept is nice to consider. A lot nicer than my memories of what happened after my last escape attempt.

“No sorcerer required, simple fashion sense and soap create wonders,” says Ilexa while practically preening. She is apparently quite pleased with how I look, or her efforts toward it at least. Lacking a mirror I can’t really tell my own appearance but I’ve never had anyone suggest I look good before, let alone a pretty, urbane girl who is older than me. It makes me feel both good and nervous at the same time.

I thank Ilexa again and the two foreigners share some sort of parting words in their native language, before Xael and I head for the compound’s east gate. There is a little group including Kalon and Tota waiting for us with one of the more fancy wagons BloodRock owns, an enclosed one with a roof and everything.

The back doors of the vehicle are open and I can see Harrk and another BloodRock guard inside it already. I’m a little disappointed Muraab isn’t escorting us as I am looking forward to catching up with the former king on the sands. It isn’t a surprise though, he will be busy processing the new slaves and giving reports to the houselord. Muraab probably doesn’t even know this party is happening.

With a casualness, I don’t I do a little hop over the stairs into the wagon and take a seat on one of the two parallel benches that run the length of the vehicle's walls.

I’m trying to maintain a kind of swagger, a sense of bravado. So I can use it as a kind of shield against my rising panic. It’s similar to how I tap into my rage to keep my fear at bay before a fight. Seeing as this will be a social event, anger is probably not where I want to find my refuge tonight. Sure would be a lot easier though.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

My confidence becomes an even more precarious thing when I notice the contraption of leather and iron Harrk is holding. I recognize the thing immediately, and my heart sinks. I should have known that despite all the promises some things are always going to be the same.

“You going to give me trouble North?” Harrk asks from behind his fancy mask.

I stare at the muzzle in his hands silently for a few heartbeats and finally shake my head.

“No trouble.”

It isn’t a lie, I stay as still as I can while he straps the thing in place around my mouth before attaching a little lock so I can’t get it off on my own. The device isn’t exactly uncomfortable, but it moves a little with each breath I take meaning I am never not intensely aware of it.

I’m proud of myself for not struggling, the only sign I give of the utter shame and disgust that fills me at being treated like an animal is a whitening of my knuckles as I grip the bench tight enough that my fingernails leave marks in the wood. As always the muzzle is tight and locks onto my teeth so that I can’t open my mouth at all. No idle chatting or delicious party foods for North. The contraption will only come off if the rich people want me to show off my bite.

The trip to the BlackMist compound is shorter than I imagined it would be, the dark ominous tower of their manse getting larger and larger in my vision out the front of the cart. Is a covered one called a cart? Is that what makes it a wagon? These thoughts are a vain attempt to keep calm. I wouldn’t say it works well exactly, but between these random observances, my focused attempt at a casual aire, and Xael repeatedly reassuring me it will be a fun time. I manage not to kick up a stink the entire trip there.

As we draw close I see the famed twin dragon statues that wind their way around the huge tower. From the mouths of the sculptures spews a constant stream of black smoke that doesn’t seem to go anywhere, rather forming a sort of shadowy disk that swirls near the top of the tower.

It's a strong reminder we are entering the compound of warlocks, where literally anyone I encounter could possess some strange, dark magic. Even if I’m not about to witness all manner of depravity as promised, the sheer amount of power I am going to be surrounded by is anxiety-inducing.

The compound itself isn’t actually much bigger than BloodRock’s, not like the miniature city House Saffron calls home. It has a few little buildings clustered in a circle around the base of the monstrous tower. I assume they are stores and workshops like we have. That is where any resemblance to my home compound ends.

The sun is setting across the city, but here in the shadow of BlackMist tower darkness has already fallen. The singular massive tower of dark stone is dotted with windows and torches, with smaller less obvious sculptures carved alongside the huge dragon statues. I don’t expect any less from the second or third-richest house in the city, especially as they can employ magical labor at a far lower cost than anyone else in Far Mantys.

I expect to disembark the wagon as we get close to the base of the tower but no one moves, instead the vehicle makes its way through a fancy gate of dark metal leading into a passage. The end of which appears to be a dead end until we get to it. At which point the fucking ground starts to rise! My eyes go wide as we lurch upwards, and I once again turn my knuckles white gripping the bench.

“It's alright, just an elevator,” Says Xael softly trying to comfort me.

Unable to respond I glare at him with annoyance before nodding. ‘I know that I know what an elevator is. It's just I have never been on one before. The ground moved! How am I supposed to be prepared for that?’

“It won’t be long, don’t worry.”

I nod again trying to keep myself calm by breathing through my nose. Not that I have much choice in the matter.

Xael is right, the elevator ride isn’t long, even if I keep imagining the thing dropping out from below me, leaving us to plummet into the darkness and break upon the ground.

Once we are off the elevator things fall into a more familiar pattern. We are escorted by heavily armored BackMist soldiers up some stairs and down a curved hallway to a massive pair of double doors carved with the swirl icon of the house. Before we even reach them I can hear the sounds of merriment and smell the rich aromas of food and the stink of grouped humans.

When the doors open I have to admit Resh was right, this is not like any party I’ve ever been to. The room beyond is huge and seven-tiered, lit by black iron braziers that float in circular patterns high above near the ceiling. The tier we have entered is the highest and the largest, sporting numerous little stands with various ovens and cooking devices offering all manner of foreign food and drinks I am not going to get to try.

There must be hundreds of guests scattered between the various tiers, be they getting food at the top, dancing at the central floor at the bottom, or enjoying some of the many delights between. I can see tiers with little art galleries set up, others with performers or people on little speaking podiums, cushion circles with Karata smoke hanging over them, and even little alcoves covered by cloth that pairs or groups can retreat to for privacy. I try not to focus on those as they make my hair stand on end, and my annoyance rise.

‘Never that different. Fucking humans.’

I look at Xael like ‘Now what?’ In return, he shoots me his sheepish smile.

“Wander around, let the fans see you. Resh is here somewhere, maybe you can find him.” He says with a shrug. “I have a few people I need to find and speak to, so Just try to have some fun, maybe try dancing.”

I raise an eyebrow at the dark-haired boy. I cannot believe this. He is practically abandoning me while my best natural weapon is locked up, and I’m surrounded by strangers who may very well be warlocks.

‘It's fine, it's fine. This isn’t a sex party as long as I stay away from those alcoves it will be fine, I don’t need to bite anyone anyway. If I need to get violent I will do it with my fists like a person.’

Xael spots someone and makes for the stairs to another tier with purpose. Not having much choice in the matter, I let out a sigh through my nose and try to follow the foreign boy’s advice. With a last regretful look at the food stands I start meandering down the tiers.

I pause to watch a two-man juggling act on the next tier and watch an old man read people’s shadows to tell their futures on the next. The crowd is thinner on the fourth tier so I choose that one to walk a circle around. There isn’t much of note here, just fancy paintings and sculptures lining the circular walkway. I don’t pay much attention to that stuff, there is an unoccupied soft pillow couch calling my name from the other side of the tier. I figure I can sit comfortably and watch the dancers below. The whole layout of the room reminds me of the stands around one of the larger pits. I have to imagine the twirling and laughing people crowding the dance floor are having a better time than we slaves do in the pit, admittedly they are almost as much of a spectacle.

I’m almost at the couch I had singled out when a girl I vaguely recognize comes marching right at me.

“You!” She calls pointing at me. “Resh’s friend.”

As she approaches I realise it's the girl from the Saffron event where my win streak was stolen from me. The one with the spiral tattoo who together with her mother had summoned a shadowy snake creature that had ended my little rampage before it could even really get going.

I can’t really respond so I just straighten up and meet her gaze. She narrows her eyes and looks away from me with a pained expression.

“Lords of the shadow! All that stone makes you hard to look at.”

‘What?’

“Honestly” she goes on. “With so much of you replaced, are you even a person anymore?”