Chained_Brides of the Kindred Read online

  No, stop thinking like that, she ordered herself. Everything is going to be just fine—won’t it?

  Maggie certainly hoped so but she had a bad feeling about this. A really bad feeling.

  Chapter One

  “So very pleased to meet you, little Mistress.” The shirtless man bowed stiffly to Maggie. “I am the personal body slave of Lady Pope’nose.”

  “Uh, nice to meet you.” She started to bow back and then remembered she wasn’t supposed to. Women were superior to men here so she should be courteous but distant—at least, that was what Ferna had said.

  The shirtless slave frowned. “But where is your body slave? Forgive me, but I was told to expect a person of rank.”

  “I am rank. I mean, of rank,” Maggie corrected herself hastily. “But I, uh…my slave got sick on the way here. Actually,” she went on, hoping to make her story even more convincing, “He died.”

  “Oh!” The man bowed low. “My condolences, Little Mistress. Had you owned him long?”

  “Oh yes, ten years! He was a…uh…a birthday present for my fifteenth birthday,” Maggie said. “I’m heartbroken over it, really. He had the…the uh, purple spotted chicken mumps.”

  The slave frowned. “I’m sorry—the what? That disease is not known here.”

  “Never mind.” Maggie waved airily. “It’s not contagious but it is deadly once contracted. Anyway, I thought it was better to continue here and give you the Hurkon collar in exchange for the historical documents as we agreed. So, uh, here.”

  She held out the black velvet pillow which contained the strange device. It had multicolored lights all over its black wire surface, reminding her of some kind of bizarre Christmas wreath. But there was nothing Christmassy or cheery about it. Frankly, just holding the thing on the cushion gave her the creeps although she couldn’t say why. She was more than ready to get rid of it and the little remote control that went with it.

  The half naked slave took a step back, his boots making a gooshing sound in the deep mud that surrounded the ship.

  “Oh, I couldn’t take that, Little Mistress! You must deliver it to Lady Pope’nose yourself.”

  Inwardly, Maggie sighed. Well, so much for an easy end to her quest. Although it did seem like the slave could have taken it. After all, he was wearing a similar collar himself, though his was much less elaborate than the Hurkon one.

  “Of course,” she said smoothly. “Well, where is she?”

  “She would never come to this side of the chasm,” the slave said. “I must take you to her.”

  “All right,” Maggie said, resigned. “Let’s go then—lead the way.” She didn’t like the idea of tramping through mud in the one good dress she’d brought on this mission but she’d been on enough field expeditions that exposure to the elements didn’t make her squeamish. She could deal with it. She started to step down into the mud but the slave shook his head, obviously horrified.

  “Please stop, little Mistress! You cannot soil your feet in such a manner. As you have no body servant of your own, I will carry you.”

  He held out his arms to her but at this, Maggie balked. There was no way she wanted to be carried in the arms of a complete stranger across this field of mud. Besides, while the shirtless slave seemed nice enough, he had a strange, weasely look in his eyes which darted from side to side as they talked.

  Also, he was skinny and she didn’t want to embarrass either of them if he couldn’t lift her. She was short but heavy in the hips—something no amount of exercise seemed to help—and she’d packed on a few pounds eating Lauren’s delicious cupcakes which seemed to be always available on the Mother Ship.

  “No, that’s all right,” she said firmly. “I’ll just go get my field boots on so I can walk.”

  “You mustn’t,” the slave insisted. Then he appeared to have an idea. “If you wish, you may ride upon my back instead of in my arms. Whatever makes you more content, only we must hurry as my Mistress, Lady Pope’nose, is waiting for us. She gets very angry when she’s kept waiting.”

  “No, really,” Maggie said. “I couldn’t.”

  The slave looked nearly desperate. “But my lady will punish me if you do not! If I slight you in any way I will taste her wrath.”

  The look in his squinty little eyes was so fearful that Maggie began to reconsider her decision. Taking a piggy-back ride was scarcely more appealing than being held in his arms but she began to see that she had no choice. If she broke the protocol of this place, they would suspect her and dig into her background. And if they found out she was from a Kindred ship, she might lose the documents which had been promised.

  Also, the deal for the Hurkon collar had already been held up once and it had to be delivered soon. Apparently there was a dangerous prisoner who could only be tamed by the strange thing in her hands. Plus, she didn’t want the skinny little guy to get punished—she felt sorry for him, even if he did look a little like a weasel without its fur.

  “All right,” she said at last, hiking up the skirt of her best dress and nodding for him to turn around. “Piggy back it is—let’s go.”

  He looked relieved. “Thank you, little Mistress. I will not fail you.” He turned his back to her and crouched down, getting ready to take her weight. With grave misgivings, Maggie hitched her dress a little higher and began to climb aboard.

  Getting on his narrow back while still holding the pillow with the collar on it wasn’t easy. It would have been considerably easier if she could have brought herself to touch the collar but somehow the black wire contraption with its blinking lights scared her. She tried to balance it on the cushion while scrambling onto the slave’s scrawny back. If only he was wearing a shirt she could hold on to! Putting her arms and legs around a strange, half-naked man was really not appealing to Maggie at all.

  “Ooof!” he gasped, when she was finally mounted with one arm around his skinny throat.

  “I’m sorry,” Maggie said at once. “You’d better put me down. I’m too heavy for you.”

  “Not at all,” the slave said in a tight, strained voice. “Are you well mounted, my lady?”

  “Uh, yes, I guess so,” Maggie said, feeling miserable. She really should have laid off those cupcakes on the Mother Ship! But she’d been indulging herself, knowing that she wouldn’t see Donald for six long months. With no one to criticize her for letting go a little, it had been easy to say yes to just one more sweet and even easier to skip her usual gym time.

  “Let us proceed,” the slave said in the same, tight voice. “I must get you to my lady soon if I wish to avoid punishment.”

  He started out, staggering through the thick, deep mud, his boots making slurping and gooshing noises with each step. Maggie held on for dear life, still trying to balance the Hurkon collar and its remote on the satin pillow with one hand while she clung to the man’s skinny, pale back with the other.

  “Have you lived here on Yonnie Six long?” she asked, trying to make conversation to defuse the awkwardness of the situation.

  “All…my life,” he gasped, still plodding along. “My mistress…bought me from the training house…when I was but fifteen cycles old.”

  “Wow,” Maggie said. “So you’ve been with Lady Pope’nose a long time then? Say…fifteen or twenty years?”

  “Only…five years,” the slave puffed. “I am but twenty cycles…little Mistress.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry.” Maggie felt worse than ever. “I’m a terrible judge of age,” she said apologetically. But really, the man looked to be at least in his mid thirties. Did they age faster here on Yonnie Six or was he just living a really hard life?

  “You must not apologize,” he protested. “Many other slaves have…” He paused to take a deep breath and then continued. “Have fallen under the whip or been rendered useless by the pain collar. But I…I survived.”

  “Wow,” Maggie muttered. Was the slave mortality rate really so high here? What was this Lady Pope’nose doing to her people? She had an awful feeling she was goi