Bonds of Silver, Bonds of Gold 14: Warranty (Part 3)

A whimper escaped me, unbidden, as soon as the afternoon light struck my eyelids. The burning made concentrating almost impossible, and my focus was all that kept the pain in check. I tried to breathe shallowly, to continue to pour my attention into the lights dancing in my mind, but each bump or shudder of the cart sent fresh flares through my body. The wounds from my last master had only scarcely begun to heal, and the fresh ones from my new one and the intimate assault compounded each injury. Drying blood oozed across my chest, leaving trails of hot stickiness in my fur, my cheek and muzzle throbbed, and between my legs, my abused sex ached in only the worst ways.

The cart stopped twice as it moved, once at the inner walls of Deterikh Keep, and then again some time later. At each, my master exchanged words with the guards, telling the first the story that he gave to Inika, and the second only that he needed to dispose of the old baron’s pet on the regent’s orders. At both, the sun briefly vanished as someone leaned over the cart, then returned with a vengeance, while I struggled to remain dead without dying. The first set gave only the most cursory inspection before sending my master on his way. The second asked several questions, inquiring about his destination and how long he planned to be gone. After several minutes of stony silence to all of their inquiries, though, they finally sent him on his way.

Soon afterwards, my master cracked the reins, and the cart lurched forward, its wheels bouncing even harder off of the rough road. It occurred to me some time afterwards that we had to be leaving Baris; we were moving too fast and had been for too long. Have I noticed this before? I wondered, but I could recall only lights and pain and motion. I’m sure I must have had the same thought more than once, but each time it seemed a new revelation, a thought worthy of a few moments’ hesitation that then vanished into the haze of pain and efforts at meditation.

When the cart did finally stop, the sun had slid down the horizon and late-afternoon rays streaked across the sky. Dimly, I noticed the autumn evening chill in the air, the blood cooling on my chest and soaking my fur. I heard my master drop from his mount with a grunt and then the heavy thud of a fist against solid wood. He drew in a deep breath and yelled, “Aura!” loudly enough to make me wince and whimper softly. Then hindfalls came over, and a warm paw brushed my right cheek. “Wake up, pet. We’re here. We’ll—’

The heavy thunk of a latch and the creak of a door cut off my master’s words, followed quickly by half a sentence from a familiar voice. “—never bothered with the sign. How can I be expected to have—” The sage’s voice rose into a sharp gasp as my master lifted me from the cart. When she found her tongue again, her voice was soft and faintly trembling. “This way.”

My master cradled me to his chest as he followed the sage into her manor. He was silent until he stepped inside, as if expecting to be heard. He sagged slightly, though his grip never faltered, as the door closed and he leaned back against it. “It’s… it’s my fault, Aura. All of it is. I should’ve stopped it. I—”

“—should take your charge up to the workshop before you drop em,” Miss Aura interrupted. “I’ll have eir charts in a bit. Up the stairs, second on the right, set em in the circle and stand away.” Her voice faded as she walked away, down the cramped hallway towards the back of the manor.

The sergeant-at-arms stood, dumbfounded, for a few moments, then hastily did as the sage ordered, taking the stairs two at a time at a sprint. The scents of rain and sweet smoke filled my nostrils as we stepped over the precipice, and despite the pain I felt myself relax against my master’s chest. He knelt, then carefully lay me on the floor. His pads brushed my cheek lightly. “Easy, pet,” he murmured. “You’re in good paws.” I opened my eyes and gazed up into my master’s, and despite the tears staining his fur, he smiled back. “Just a bit longer.”

Miss Aura entered the room with a scroll in one paw and a bag in the other. “You, what’s your name?”

My master looked up, then rose and adjusted his shirt. “Valentin, son of Dorik, sergeant-at-arms of Barony Deterikh.”

The sage dropped her bag and walked to her work table, then unfurled the papers and started making adjustments. “Tell me everything, sergeant,” she said without inflection. “Spare no detail.”

“It’s….” My master’s ears flattened. “Listen, Aura, there’s a lot and I don’t know how much time we have. I did my best to plant a false trail, but Datsia’s—”

The raccoon raised one paw, the tip of her tail flicking in irritation. “You’re in my home; that means you’re in my protection. If Datsia wants you, all the more reason. Now tell me how this slave got hurt, so I can take care of it.”

The sergeant-at-arms swallowed at that, then looked back down at me. I did my best to smile up to him around my pain, but he turned away, his head low. “The cuts are my doing. The muzzle and bludgeoning were mostly Erik’s.”

Miss Aura did turn at that, her yellow eyes narrowed and her muzzle set in a thin line. “It sounds like quite the evening,” she quipped. “Shared em around, did you?”

“No, I—” my master stammered quickly. “That is, we did, but that’s not how that….” He trailed off, then sighed and drew in a deep breath. “Erik finally broke, and he lashed out at Taneh. When he realized what he’d done….” He paused and shook his head. “I think he tried to run from it. He made it to the border before we could catch him. He’s on his way to Krolik under heavy guard to stand trial.” One paw waved my direction. “Datsia ordered em killed, but I… couldn’t.” He looked up at her and chuffed a weak laugh. “Ey almost died anyway.”

The more my master spoke, the further the sage’s eyes widened. “Great Family,” she muttered when he’d finished. Then she nodded sharply. “I’ll have more to ask, but that can be over tea. Head downstairs in the parlor, I’ll be along with Erik’s pet in a bit.” Once Valentin was out of the room, the sage took up her staff in one paw and a bag in the other. “No time for salves, Taneh,” she murmured as she walked the circle around me, pouring a careful line of salt beside her. “Keep breathing, and this will all be over soon.”

I nodded, then closed my eyes and turned to face the ceiling. As long as I lay perfectly still, I could almost forget how badly I hurt, but every time I moved, fire crawled beneath my skin.

The sage took up her chanting as she worked, tracing lines with the salts. “Chalk to mark and guide, salts to separate. All things are connected in the Great Work, but within the circle, we may tease free a single strand to repair it.” This time, when the circle closed, she knelt beside me within the ring of salt. “Feel the heat rising within, spreading out from your spine to engulf you. Do you remember your training?” I opened my muzzle to respond, but all that escaped was a brief nod and a moan of fresh pain from the sudden shock of genuine heat suffusing my body. “Good. Focus on the witchlight in your mind, little light.”

“I am ready,” I whimpered, panting in response to the sudden shock of pain. Every point that had been hurt before seemed to glow, radiant and aching. The slashing wounds from my master’s speartip, the cracked bone in my cheek, even the gash and burn on the side of my paw where the base of my thumb used to be flared to life in agonizing memory. I saw in my mind an angry red glow beneath my fur, highlighting the places that I hurt.

The sage was silent a moment, then said hastily, “Very good. You’re well-trained, and you do as you’re told. The body seeks balance and restoration as water seeks the lowest point in the riverbed. Where there is heat, there is imbalance, flesh out of order. I bring water to fire to soothe and quench, flesh returning to health.” Where her fingers brushed against my chest, a soothing, liquid chill seeped beneath my fur, washing away the pain. She cupped my cheek, then caressed my paw, and finally drew her fingers between my legs. Everywhere she touched, the fires fled, leaving only cool comfort behind.

“Within the circle, we separate one skein, one single strand of the Great Work, to make changes to it,” Miss Aura said softly. “To weave those changes back within the larger pattern, we carefully part the circle.” She rose onto her knees, then leaned over and cut a line in the circle of salt with her paw. “Salts divided, chalk split.” Her tail tickled my muzzle. “Wake up, Taneh.”

I blinked, then drew in a deep breath. I cringed as I inhaled, but no pain lingered in my chest. I felt nothing in particular, but after so much repressed agony, nothing was a blessed relief. “Ma’am,” I murmured. Experimentally, I brought my paws to my eyes and sighed; the ritual had done nothing to heal them. Apparently, the Great Work was convinced that wasn’t an injury, nor were the emptiness between my legs and the urge to feel it filled.

“Stop admiring yourself, pet, and get up,” Miss Aura said from the doorway. “Valentin’s got a great many more questions to answer, and I’ve got to get a kettle on.”