Текст книги "Enslaved"
Автор книги: Anderson Evangeline
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Oh yes, she’d seen penetration before—she’d simply never equated the idea with herself. Not as the one being penetrated, anyway. When two females on Zetta Prime made a life-pact with each other and agreed to penetration, they generally used slim, silver wands which were made for that exclusive purpose. One of the females was the penetrator and one the penetratee. Trin had sometimes wondered what the silver wand might feel like—even though she knew in her heart she could never allow herself to be penetrated.
But a silver wand no bigger than two of her fingers was one thing. She couldn’t even imagine trying to fit something the size of Thrace’s shaft inside herself. Just the thought made her feel hot and cold and wrong all over. The daughters of Zetta Prime did not do such things—not with males. It was forbidden…disgusting. Wasn’t it?
Of course it is, she told herself firmly. That fact had certainly been drummed into her head often enough, during the sexual instruction classes she had been given at the temple of the Goddess of Judgment. Even now Trin could hear the voice of the greater priestess who taught the class…
Disgusting…evil…allowing a male to penetrate you would damn you forever. As a Defiled One, your shame would never end. You must never, never let a male come near you in that way. Never!
But despite the voices from her past, Trin couldn’t seem to get the memory of his large, hard shaft out of her mind. She supposed she might have taken him in hand and helped him in the way he’d wanted to help himself. Only Trin got the idea that the big Havoc didn’t want to be touched sexually—not while he was tied down. No matter what he might say to her, she somehow knew he wouldn’t welcome such contact while he was helpless.
And yet…the thick ridge of flesh had been almost throbbing with need—a painful need if what Thrace said was true.
Why should I believe anything he says is true? she asked herself. Everything out of his mouth is probably just a lie.
If that’s so, why didn’t he just lie about his old master? whispered a little voice in her brain. Why not just say he died of old age, or that he sold Thrace away for fighting with the other slaves? Why not just make up any plausible sounding lie he thought might appease you?
He could have done that, Trin admitted to herself reluctantly. He could have but he didn’t. Instead, he refused to answer. He left me to draw my own conclusions, even though he knew they were bound to be bad. Even though it meant he had to remain chained to the cot. Why?
She had no answers. The big Havoc was an enigma—as well as a constant source of concern and contention among the crew. They didn’t like having a male aboard—much less a huge, dangerous one. Only that morning, Sidna had approached her about the idea of simply letting him go…
“I know the Havoc was a major investment for you and the idea was to be able to deal with the high society on Yonnie Six with him at your back but it’s simply not working out,” she’d said earnestly. “I hear the two of you talking sometimes and he’s not getting any more tractable.”
“At least he’s speaking,” Trin said defensively. “I’ll bring him around eventually, Sidna. He may be male but he’s intelligent—not stupid or primitive like we were raised to believe.”
Sidna shook her head. “He’s dangerous,” she said flatly. “And if he’s as intelligent as you say, that makes him even more dangerous. We need to let him go before he figures out a way to get loose and kills us all in our sleep. Not that anyone aboard can sleep knowing there’s a huge, psychotic male strapped down to a cot just around the corner from them.”
“He’s not psychotic—he’s perfectly lucid and sane,” Trin defended.
“I’m just telling you how the crew feels,” Sidna said. “And seeing those bruises on your neck isn’t reassuring anyone either.”
“That was an accident,” Trin said.
“No, that was a warning.” Sidna’s voice dropped into a pleading tone. “Look, Lonarra,” she said, using Trin’s first name as she almost never did. “I’m begging you—for your own safety and the safety of the whole crew, let’s just let him go. Just stop at some busy spaceport or inhabited planet and drop him off. Then he’s off our hands and out of our lives forever.”
“I…” For a moment Trin had almost considered the idea. After all, despite the many conversations she’d had with Thrace, the big Havoc refused to call her mistress or swear any kind of loyalty. At this rate, she’d never be able to unchain him—let alone walk into a Yonnie Six gathering with him at her back.
He also refused to tell her what had happened to his last master—a matter which troubled her greatly. But the idea of letting him go and never seeing him again bothered her for some reason. The universe was vast—if she set him down in a busy spaceport or a hospitable planet as Sidna suggested, the odds were a trillion to one on her ever seeing him again.
“Well?” Sidna had asked, a touch of exasperation in her voice.
“I’ll think about it,” Trin had said at last. “I promise I’ll give your idea careful consideration.”
“Thank you,” Sidna said. “But don’t think too long, Trin—the crew is growing restless.”
Trin thought about it now—thought long and hard. Maybe she should just let him go. He was angry and dangerous and huge and muscular and male. He didn’t belong aboard The Alacrity. It was like trying to keep an exotic pet in an environment that wasn’t good for it.
No, I should stop thinking of him as a pet. That’s one reason he got so mad in the first place. She sighed. Maybe it would be best to just let him go. There were four life pods attached to the ship and they only really needed three of them to evacuate everyone. She could simply give him one and let him go where he wanted.
The life pods had been designed to survive long stretches of time in deep space and they all had stocks of dehydrated food spheres—provided he had a rudimentary knowledge of flying and knew how to navigate wormholes, he could go pretty much anywhere he wanted.
That’s what I ought to do, she thought. Just let him go his own way. He’s never going to play the roll I need him to—Sidna is right, he’s a dangerous liability. All right…when I get back from the Devil’s Eye, I’ll do it.
Her heart was heavy as she made the decision and not because losing the Havoc meant she’d basically flushed fifty thousand credits down the drain. Somehow, the idea of loosing Thrace was like a weight on her heart. It didn’t make any sense but somehow she’d allowed herself to grow fond of the big Havoc. So fond that the idea of never seeing him again made her eyes sting and her throat grow tight.
Don’t be an idiot, she lectured herself, swiping angrily at her damp eyes. He’s just a failed experiment. An idea that didn’t pan out. Next time maybe you’ll think harder before you sink credits into a scheme.
She straightened up and took a deep breath. It was time to stop dwelling on the problems with her troublesome Havoc and start concentrating on her strategy for getting in and out of the Demon’s Eye in one piece tomorrow. And after she got in and out with the Jaxite, how she was going to sell it without a male body-slave to help her. Well, maybe she could try to hire one for a few days from somewhere although she was afraid the Yonnite mistresses would spot a fake…
I’ll figure it out, Trin told herself. I have to. For now, one step at the time. First I have to get the Jaxite to sell.
The Alacrity was in the Delta-Xion quadrant now—a couple million light years from home, thanks to her navigator’s extensive knowledge of stable wormholes. A few more hours travel would take them to the Demon’s Doorstep—the planet the notorious space station orbited. Trin needed to be ready when they got there. Her ship, her livelihood—even her very life depended on it.
Still, even as she tried to turn her mind to the Eye and what she would say to B’Rugh, its owner, the big Havoc kept crowding into her mind, demanding her attention…
Chapter Six
Thrace tossed restlessly on the cot. He had slept poorly and had wakened to the quiet sounds of Trin getting ready to depart. He’d almost called out to her—wanting to say a word before she left. But what was he going to say—I’m sorry? Thrace snorted. Not fucking likely. Why would he apologize to his captor? The female who had bought him and chained him down. The one who refused to let him up from this fucking cot? Stubbornly, he had turned his face to the wall again and drifted back off to sleep.
He woke again with his head pounding and a blaster shoved in his face.
“Wha—?” He stared groggily at the blunt silver-blue muzzle hovering just above his nose. Gods, his head was killing him.
“Get up.” The steely voice belonged to a female named Sidna, who he was pretty sure was the ship’s medic. It was her voice he most often heard arguing with Trin about what was to be done with him.
“Can’t get up,” he said, glaring at her. “I’m chained to the fucking—”
“I’ve unchained you. Stunned you first in your sleep to be certain you didn’t wake up in the middle. I’m taking no chances with you, Havoc.” She waved the blaster at him again. “Now get up—slowly. This is set to kill so don’t get any ideas.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Thrace said dryly. “What are you going to do with me?”
“I’m getting rid of you while Trin is gone. She’ll probably be upset with me when she comes back—if she comes back. But that’s just too damn bad.”
“What do you mean if she comes back?” Thrace sat on the side of his much-hated cot, trying to regain all the feeling in his extremities and relishing the feeling of freedom for the first time in days. But the diminutive medic’s words troubled him. “Why wouldn’t she come back?” he asked, looking at her.
“Because she’s gone into the Demon’s Eye by herself with no backup,” Sidna snapped.
“She what?” Thrace exploded, standing up so suddenly Sidna jumped and shoved the blaster right in his sternum.
“I said slowly,” she snarled. “Any more sudden moves like that and I’ll blow your head off—I swear by the Goddess of Judgment, I will.”
“Sorry,” growled Thrace. “But the Demon’s Eye—that place is a fucking viper pit! Every murderer, skinner, psycho-slicer, and mind-raper in the known universe is welcome there. Any one of them will kill you just for looking at them the wrong way. And with that type it doesn’t matter how you look at them—it’s always the wrong way.”
“You’re not telling me anything I don’t already know. Anything I haven’t already said to Trin,” Sidna said tightly. “But she thinks she’ll be safe because she knows the male who runs the place.”
“She knows B’Rugh?” Thrace could scarcely believe his ears. Trin certainly didn’t seem like the kind of person who was on speaking terms with the most notorious crime-lord in this or any other galaxy.
“She beat him in a card game once,” Sidna said. “He’s been after her to come and ‘visit’ him on his home base ever since. But up until now she’s never been stupid enough—or desperate enough—to go.”
“Why in the Seven Hells would she go now?” Thrace demanded. “Especially without anyone to watch her back?”
“Why do you think? Because of you.” Sidna waved the blaster at him accusingly.
“Because of me? What are you talking about?”
“You mean she didn’t tell you?” Sidna raised an eyebrow at him disbelievingly. “Buying you nearly bankrupted her. I finally got the whole story out of her the other night—she spent fifty thousand credits on you to get you free of that slaver at the Flesh Bazaar.”
“Fifty thousand credits?” Thrace could scarcely believe it. The sum was ten times what even the most accomplished and highly trained slave was worth. He’d been bought at a high price the first time he was a slave but his old Master could afford it—Trin couldn’t. “Why the fuck would she spend so much on me?” he demanded.
“I have no idea.” Sidna gave him a withering look. “Especially since all she really wanted was a male to stand at her back and look pretty at the Yonnie Six state functions. And you plainly can’t even be trusted to do that.” You worthless piece of scum, her tone implied.
“She told me she didn’t buy me for sexual reasons, like the Yonnite mistresses buy body-slaves,” Thrace said. “But I never knew she just wanted me for backup.” Backup he hadn’t provided—and wasn’t providing now. Trin was alone in a den of thieves, rapists, murders and every other kind of criminal. And he wasn’t there to help. I could’ve been, he thought. If she’d trusted me enough to let me up, enough to take me with her. If I’d given her any reason to trust me.
“She bought you to save your worthless life, Havoc,” Sidna snapped. “She told me the slaver who sold you was trying to kill you with the pain collar he’d put on you. In my opinion, it’s a pity he didn’t succeed.” She shook her head. “Trin always was too soft hearted—although I never knew her to let her feelings get in the way of good judgment before.”
“I can’t fucking believe it…fifty thousand credits.” Thrace shook his head.
Sidna sneered at him. “You would’ve been overpriced at fifty credits-let alone fifty thousand.”
“Look, I can tell you don’t like me but I didn’t ask to be captured and sold as a slave,” Thrace growled. “Any more than I asked to be bought and chained to a cot for days on end.”
“Well you’re out of your chains now—much good may it do you. Come on.” Sidna was poking him with the blaster again. “Get going. The sooner you’re off this ship the better.”
“What the fuck do you plan to do with me?” Thrace growled. “Blow me out the airlock into deep space?”
“Don’t tempt me.” The medic’s voice was grim. “But no—Trin would never forgive me if I did that. For some reason she’s grown fond of you—even though you tried to strangle her and you can’t keep a civil tongue in your head. Goddess alone knows why but she actually likes you. So I can’t kill you.”
“Then where am I going?” Thrace demanded.
“Into one of the life pods. They’re fully stocked and they have enough fuel to navigate deep space for a good long time. Providing you can push the autopilot button, you’ll be able to make your way someplace safe. And anyplace away from The Alacrity is good enough for me,” Sidna said tightly. “Now come on, let’s go.”
She herded him at blaster-point down the narrow curving corridor to one of the far ends of the ship. Then she pointed to a small metal escape hatch.
“There. You can take that one. Just get in, press the big green button, and never come back. That’s all I ask.”
“Fine.” Thrace opened the door and ducked his head to get inside.
Without another word, Sidna sealed him in, cutting him off from the rest of the ship with a final sounding chink of metal against metal.
Thrace looked around, assessing his surroundings. The pod was cramped for someone his size but it clearly had enough food and stores for several people so he should be fine. The controls were simple too. He’d been piloting ships for almost as long as he’d been alive. One look at the miniature but fully functional navicon showed a stable wormhole just a few parsecs away. He could take it back to the galaxy he’d started from, get The Empress out of dry dock and go look for his best friend and first mate, Solar who had also been sold at the Flesh Bazaar.
But that would mean leaving Trin to the mercy of B’Rugh and the Demon’s Eye.
Looking out of the viewscreen at the front of the little pod, he saw the huge silver space station gleaming ominously in the light of the red dwarf star at the center of the system. Trin was in there somewhere…alone…unprotected. Oh, he knew she was probably armed—she was a savvy female and wouldn’t go into a place like that without a blaster or two strapped to her belt. But what good was a blaster against such a hoard of dangerous, lecherous criminals? Against B’Rugh? Thrace’d had some dealings with the crime lord in the past himself—none of them pleasant.
She bought you and chained you up! snarled a little voice in his brain. Chained you to a cot for days!
Because she didn’t trust me. Because I gave her no reason to trust me, Thrace answered it. And she’s only there because of me. She bought me to save my stupid, fucking life. That damn slaver would have killed me if she hadn’t stopped him.
He remembered now…Sidna’s scathing words had brought the recollections of what had happened in the Flesh Bazaar back like a fever dream. The slaver demanding that he get off the platform so Trin could examine him…his own silent refusal…then the horrible pain like a stinging electrical current running through his entire body. He even remembered seeing her punch the scaly bastard in the jaw when he wouldn’t turn off the pain collar. Trin really had saved his life—he owed her for that, no matter what the last few days had been like.
Turning to the navicon, he set a course for the Demon’s Eye.
He just prayed he wasn’t too late.
Chapter Seven
Trin walked carefully but confidently through the long metal halls of the space station. She kept her chin high and her hand near her blaster, which was strapped comfortingly to her hip. It didn’t do to show fear in a place like this but she wasn’t above letting people know she was armed. That was just common sense.
She’d taken her time circling the massive structure and picking the right place to dock. Using one of the smaller, more distant docking zones would have been more discrete and drawn less attention. However, it also would have meant traversing long stretches of poorly lit corridors alone until she got to a main branch.
On the other hand, docking in a central zone, close to the heart of the station, meant attracting immediate attention from the inhabitants. It also, however, guaranteed a swift getaway if the deal went south.
After almost an hour’s deliberation, Trin chose the central zone. She was one woman alone and she didn’t like to take her chances in the small, twisty corridors that ran through the peripheral branches of the station. Plus, she was hoping that B’Rugh would be willing to do a quick, straightforward deal which would allow her to go straight back to her ship with no problems.
Please Goddessof Judgment, she prayed as she walked, trying not to see the eyes gleaming in the dark offshoots on either side of the main corridor. Please—I’ve always followed all your precepts and held your laws sacred and holy. Let everything go easily and well!
She carried her credit in gold chip-coins hidden in the money belt strapped to the small of her back. Other establishments might be linked to various financial institutions and accept a thumbprint scan for a transfer but not here. The Demon’s Eye was a strictly cash-only kind of place. Not too surprising considering who ran it. B’Rugh wasn’t known for his tolerance or leniency—he was more famous for business acumen and cruelty, though he had always been civil to her.
Trin had met him when she sat in on a card game of three handed thrash in a trashy little dive in the Leffaba System. It was a complicated game which involved periodically trading hands with the player sitting three seats from you as well as managing three groups of cards at once.
Despite the fact that two of the players had been Leffbas—the species that had originally invented the game and who each had three arms and six hands, Trin had still managed to win. B’Rugh, who had lost badly, was much impressed with her skill and had been inviting her to come visit him at the Demon’s Eye ever since.
This was the first time Trin had taken him up on his invitation. She just hoped it wasn’t the last thing she ever did.
She scanned the long, dirty metal walkway as she went, her low heeled boots ringing against the floor. So far, so good. Though she could see the huge, lumpish shapes and gleaming eyes of males in the side corridors, no one had accosted or attempted to approach her yet. There were some leering expressions of lust and a few catcalls from time to time but that was all…for now. Had B’Rugh put out the word that she wasn’t to be bothered? Or were the thugs simply so surprised at seeing a lone female in their midst they didn’t know what to do?
Whatever the case, Trin hoped that their apparent policy of non-contact continued. Although at some point she was going to have to ask someone to point the way to B’Rugh…
“Greetings, my lady,” a high, grating voice announced.
It was so close to her and so unexpected that Trin nearly jumped out of her skin.
“I…what?” She looked around wildly, only to see the speaker appear suddenly right in front of her. He didn’t walk forward, he simply showed up as though he’d materialized out of nothing.
She took a look at him…and had to fight to keep from stepping back. He was a tall, skeletal male with a skull-like face and boney, prominent eye sockets around his deep-set eyes. Or eye, anyway. The entire right side of his face was covered with some kind of rigid metal mask with an unblinking purple light glaring from where the right eye should be. He had a knife blade of a nose and thin, almost non-existent lips that were the color of raw meat.
The worst part in Trin’s opinion, was that a piece of his skull had been removed and replaced with a clear, plasti-glass dome. Through it, she could see his pulsing gray brain implanted with a few weakly flickering lights. The brain matter around these implants was darker that the other tissue and looked almost…rotten. But that wasn’t possible, was it? How could anyone live and function with a rotting brain?
“I see you’re admiring my communications array,” the male said, tapping the plasti-glass shield with one skeletal finger.
“Oh, uh…” Trin wasn’t sure what to say. “It’s…like nothing I’ve ever seen before,” she said at last. Which was certainly true.
“It used to be my link to the beings I served—they are, alas, no more.”
“That’s too bad,” Trin remarked, keeping her hand near her blaster.
“I had another connection too—one to a dear friend—closer than a brother. But he died as well.” He sighed mournfully in a way that almost made Trin sorry for him. Almost.
“I’m very sorry to hear it.”
“Well, it cannot be helped. People do come and go in our lives sometimes, don’t you agree?”
Trin thought of the big Havoc chained to his cot back on The Alacrity—thought of her decision to let him go when she got back from doing the deal aboard the Demon’s Eye.
“True,” she admitted, her heart feeling heavy for no reason she could really name.
“But then…one moves on,” the strange male continued. “One finds new places to inhabit, one makes new friends. The universe becomes a brighter place—yes?”
He smiled and Trin had to keep herself from flinching away from him a second time. Pealing back those liver-colored lips revealed spit-shiny stainless steel teeth that were somehow even more grotesque than the exposed brain.
“Right,” she muttered, gripping her blaster.
“Oh, you won’t need that.” The male grinned even wider and nodded at the blaster. “It’s quite unnecessary. I’m not here to accost you—I’m here to lead you to our most estimable leader, Alile vuh B’Rugh.”
“I see.” Trin relaxed a little though she kept her hand hovering over her blaster. “You weren’t with him when I first met him, I don’t think,” she remarked. “I’m certain I would have remembered you.”
“As I would have remembered you, dear lady.” He bowed again and came up grinning. “As a matter of fact, I am relatively new here but I have quickly gained the confidence of our fine leader. You might even say I am his number Two male.” He laughed, as though he’d made a joke. Trin didn’t join in.
“So where is B’Rugh?” she asked tightly. More and more she felt she didn’t like this tall thin male with his exposed brain and steel teeth. As a captain she had learned to trust her instincts and he gave off a bad vibe. A bad, crazy vibe. Every nerve in her body shouted, run! But she couldn’t—she had a deal to make.
“B’Rugh is this way—waiting for you in his main receiving parlor. Or as the other denizens of this fine establishment call it—the Grog Hall.” He swept out one boney hand in an elaborately graceful gesture. “Ladies first?”
“I’ll follow you,” Trin said tightly.
“But I do not wish to be rude.” He opened his eyes wide—the left eye anyway—as though indicating his horror of the idea.
“Females don’t expect special treatment where I’m from. We are more than equal to males so nobody needs to go first,” Trin said brusquely. “You know the way so you lead.”
“Very well.” He nodded amiably enough and turned to sweep down the wide metal corridor ahead of her. Trin breathed a sigh of relief, glad to have that strange, crazy gaze off her face at least for a minute. She noticed that her host—B’Rugh’s number two male as he called himself—was wearing a strange garment. It was a long, black leather coat which fell from his boney neck to his black boots which made dull, clanking echoes on the metal floor. The coat fluttered against his ankles as he walked, almost as though it was alive.
Weird. Very weird. She wondered if he was really who he said he was and if he was taking her to B’Rugh at all? If he’d tried to lead her off into one of the narrow, dark, side corridors she would have balked. But so far they were simply making their way down the wide main walkway.
She did notice, however, that most of the watching males had somehow disappeared. And the one or two that remained had looks of fear rather than lust on their faces as they watched her walk past. Somehow Trin doubted the fear was for her. For some reason, even the largest thugs they passed were afraid of the tall, thin male who was leading her down the corridor. That made her even more wary of her companion but what could she do but keep following him?
Just as she was about to get really nervous, they came to a place where the main corridor branched off into two smaller ones. In the exact center of the juncture was a strange, triangular door wedged into the crease between the corridors.
“In here,” her companion said, turning briefly to smile at her. “I hope you’re thirsty—it’s considered very rude to refuse a drink offered by your host here.”
“Is that right?” Trin said neutrally.
“Oh yes—which is why I mention it. I know you don’t wish to upset or offend the estimable B’Rugh.” He flashed that grotesque, steel grin again and swung open the triangular door, ducking a little to go in as the narrow point of the triangle was at the top.
Trin followed him carefully, keeping her eyes open and her hand on her blaster as she stepped through the door into the dim room. She didn’t want to get cut off from her exit so she halted just a step inside the threshold and let her eyes get used to the low lighting.
Sure enough, sitting at the end of a black-grass table on the far side of the room was B’Rugh. The black-grass—which was a kind of soft fungus especially prized for its ability to keep gems and precious metals polished and bright simply through contact—was cut short. On it a gleaming pile of Jaxite crystals was heaped in a shiny, untidy pyramid.
Trin’s eyes widened as she looked at the crystals. Even from across the room she could tell they were perfect—already cut to the right size and shape for the dream-gas refineries of Yonnie Six. The perfect acquisition—these crystals would more than make up her debt if she could sell them to some wealthy mistress. Of course, how she would get anyone to deal with her since she was going to turn Thrace loose and had no one else to act as her body-slave, Trin had no idea. But that was a problem for another day. Right now she simply had to make the deal and get her hands on those crystals.
“They are beautiful, no?” The thick, burbling voice sounded to Trin, as always, like someone talking underwater with a mouthful of mud. She raised her gaze reluctantly from the small but valuable pile of Jaxite to their owner.
B’Rugh was a Lud’om—a race that had evolved on the mud flats of Lud, a planet which had a very wet environment. In fact, he himself looked like he might be made of mud. His mottled brownish-green skin was covered in hand-sized patches of slime and seemed to flow over his body in a way that was both disturbing and mesmerizing—a constantly shifting mass even though he himself was sitting quite still in his chair. His facial features were like drooping dough and Trin had the idea that if she reached out to touch his cheek—or indeed, any part of him—her fingers might sink in. Only his eyes—steady, yellow and calculating—didn’t change.
“Greetings. B’Rugh,” she said, stepping forward. “It’s good to see you again—I was glad to get your message about the Jaxite.” She nodded at the pile of crystals on the soft black mat of fungus in front of him. “I have our agreed upon price and I’m ready to deal.”
“A drink first, I think,” B’Rugh burbled thickly. “One cannot deal with a dry throat.” As if anything about him was dry.
Trin shifted uneasily. She didn’t like the idea of letting anything but air pass her lips in this hostile environment. Still, she remembered the warning B’Rugh’s second in command had given her. She didn’t wish to offend and she did have a ring with a toxin sensor on her right hand. It ought to pick up any poisons or toxins that someone might have tried to slip into her cup.
“Of course,” she said, nodding. “A drink to seal the deal.”
“Good.” B’Rugh nodded to his number two male. “Drinks.”
The male with the steel teeth bowed obsequiously.
“At once, my liege.”
He went to a bar behind the table and busied himself with a number of glass and metal bottles.
“Very well.” B’Rugh looked at her. “Sit, please. As we are waiting, perhaps you would care to inspect one of the crystals?”
“Of course.” Trin took a seat opposite him and steeled herself not to flinch as he picked up one of the Jaxite crystals with oozing fingers and placed it in her palm. The Lud’om’s touch was cold and slimy and a bit of his brownish goo was stuck to the crystal. Trin flicked it away as unobtrusively as she could and examined the silver-blue depths of the Jaxite.
It was perfect—brilliant and clear and multifaceted. The color reminded her of something—Thrace’s eyes, that was it. The pale, sparkling color was exactly the same. But it was the ring of black around his iris that made his gaze so piercing…so penetrating.
