Chapter Six: A Cruel Truth

When next Kya awoke, she was lying in a rough cot made of straw, surrounded by walls of furniture and other miscellaneous items while the canopy of a tent hung overhead. To her confusion, she found that she was freshly washed, with her glossy black hair brushed neat. Her travelling attire had been traded for a light, cotton gown and a thick, metal cuff had been placed on her right wrist, which secured her to a nearby tentpost.

“Where am I?” she grumbled, sitting upright. Glancing about the small, enclosed space she spotted a table, near enough to reach, covered in bottles of frothing liquids, jars of thick salves, and rolls of linen bandages.

Did Farris drag me to a hospice? Kya wondered, though only for a moment before experiencing a rush of memories. No, there was that lady, she recalled, touching her temples thoughtfully as she attempted to jog her memory further.

Another surge of memories brought the lady’s words echoing into her mind. Within an instant Kya’s mouth was dry, her heart hammering as she turned to stare at the cuff in horror. “Am I…? No… No, it can’t be…!”

Filled with panic, Kya yanked on the chain repeatedly, although unsure of her ultimate plan. All that she knew was that she needed to break free by any means possible.

Her breathing grew erratic as she craned her neck around, checking to ensure that her raucous had not drawn unwelcome attention. It was difficult to peer over the crude barriers but she managed to make do, spotting an empty, unmade bed in the corner opposite of her, as well as an unlit cooking-fire set in a deep pit at the centre of the tent. In another corner lay a bath and a wardrobe, hidden behind a tall screen, while the rest of the space had been dedicated to numerous trunks and crates, each loaded with an odd assortment of various goods.

She was thankful to say that she was alone, though it was impossible to know for how long such a statement would be true. Sooner or later her captor would return and it was Kya’s wish to be already gone by such a time.

On the opposite side of the tent she spotted the exit, though sadly such a discovery only granted her a small amount of relief. She still had to find a way to break free from the chain that held her firm, a task that was beginning to feel impossible. Whichever smith had forged her bonds had wrought a quality product, pure and strong and merciless.

“I could break my hand…” Kya said, thinking aloud. She knew of stories where prisoners, deadset on escape, no matter the cost, shattered their own bones in order to slip from their bonds. The idea made her feel nauseous, though in her mind such a sacrifice was worthwhile if it meant that she avoided becoming a ****. Unfortunately she was **** to accept reality: that she likely didn’t possess the strength or the will required to perform such an act. “I don’t know what other choice I have…” She whispered to herself, **** on her words as tears began to form. “If I don’t escape… There’s no limit to what they could do to me…”

Distressed tears rolled freely down her cheeks as her emotions came to a head. She sobbed in silence, rattling her chain hopelessly as her woe grew greater. It wasn’t until heard the tent’s entrance flap open that her crying ceased.

With red and puffy eyes she stared through a crack in the makeshift wall and saw the same bronze-skinned woman that had plucked her from the desert. Dressed in a loose, longsleeved dress of red and orange, with golden bangles on her waist and wrists, she looked almost regal.

The woman paused in the entryway before stepping inside. She carried with her a large sack which she laid by the entrance - its contents jangling as they settled - before moving towards the unlit fire. Soon the tent was filled with the smell of roasting mutton, a scent so delectable that it **** Kya to face her own gnawing hunger. How long has it been since I last ate? She wondered, though surely it had not been long, her appearance hardly resembled the malnourished. Nonetheless she watched with jealous eyes as the woman ate her fill.

Kya hoped that her captor would she’d seek sleep once her stomach was full, but much to her dismay she instead saw the woman plate a second portion before walking towards Kya’s corner of the tent.

She hurried to make herself appear aslumber, pulling the thin blanket over her only a few moments before her captor rounded the improvised wall. Procuring a stool, the lady sat beside the table of medicines, placing the food down with a sigh.

“I know that you’re awake,” the woman said, her voice quivering slightly. Kya remained still, uncertain of how to respond. “You don’t need to be afraid, I’m not going to hurt you. I just thought that you’d like some actual food after eating nothing but stews for the past three weeks.”

Silence remained as Kya’s response, though her mind raced with thoughts. Three weeks? How could I have been here for three weeks? Wasn’t it just a few hours ago that she found me?

“I heard you crying,” the woman softly confessed, as if ashamed. “I’m sorry to have caused you so much grief, I can only imagine how confusing this must all be for you. If you’d let me, I’d love to help you understand.”

“What is there to understand?” Kya finally said, rolling onto her side so that her back faced her captor; she refused to let them see her wallow in her misery. “I heard what you said back in the desert, I know why I’m here. I just wish that you had listened to me, to my pleas.”

“You were delirious,” argued her captor with a shake of their head. “Most of what you said was incoherent, the rest simply didn’t make any sense. You had asked me to leave you there! You would have died!.”

“I know what I said!” Kya snapped. “I thought that my choice was clear, that I would rather die than become a ****.”

The woman chuckled awkwardly, “I see, so that’s what you heard…”

Kya grunted in the affirmative. “I didn’t ask to be saved, especially not if this was the price that I would have to pay. Though I suppose that it didn’t matter much what I chose, slavers aren’t exactly known for giving their victims options.”

“I’m no slaver,” the woman said simply.

Kya turned to face her captor at last. She saw the mournful look that was plastered across their face, as well as the guilt burning in their sky-blue eyes and found herself growing confused. “You aren’t…?”

The woman shook her head. “I’m just a merchant, nothing more. The bindings, the attire, everything was simply a ruse so that I could keep you safe.”

“Safe from what?”

“My tribe,” said the woman slowly. “It’s forbidden for outsiders to enter our lands, so much so that trespassers are killed on sight. The only exception to that rule are slaves. As they are the property of a tribe member, they are allowed to enter.”

“Your tribe…” Kya echoed, faint memories resurfaced of stories that she’d heard long ago. They told of nomadic tribes who called the deepest regions of the desert their home. From what she could recall, it was said that they congregated around hidden oases and secret wells known only to them, and while they would trade mostly between themselves, they would on occasion venture into port towns or other such settlements in order to acquire slaves and other niche, rare goods.

“I know that it's hard to believe but I truly had no other choice! I could never willingly leave someone to die!”

“Then let me leave,” Kya begged. Despite herself, she found that she was still holding onto a small shred of hope. Her captor seemed sincere, perhaps that meant that she had a chance. “If you're being honest, if I'm truly not a ****, then I ask that you release from this chain and let me leave.”

Kya's heart sank as the woman hung her head.

“I can't do that,” the woman muttered, once again sounding ashamed. “Slaves may be allowed to enter but that does mean that they are allowed to leave; afterall, it is important that the locations of the tribes remain a secret. If I let you go, you would be killed without hesitation. They would hunt you down with hounds and let the dogs rip you limb from limb; whatever remained afterwards would then be used as feed for the pigs.”

“You’re cruel,” Kya whimpered, **** back a fresh wave of tears. “Why would you bring me here? Why would you give me hope just to tear it away again? Do you get some sick joy from seeing me miserable?”

“No,” her captor cried, rising to their feet in protest. “I don’t want to hurt you, nor do I want to cause you stress, but I cannot lie to you either… I am well aware that this situation is far from ideal but I promise you that it is better than ****. I am not the monster that you believe me to be, I will not harm you nor will I allow any harm to come to you while you're under my care. You shall be safe, despite how it may seem.”

Kya rolled back to face the wall, pulling herself into a ball as she spoke: “But I'm still a ****…”

“By title alone. I've seen how people treat those that they're able to call their property and it makes me sick, I would never do such things to you.”

Kya had returned to silence.

“I shall give you some time alone,” her captor said, turning to leave. “The food is here on the table in case you get hungry but I'd need to refill the pitcher if you're thirsty; that will be the first thing that I do when I return.”

“I only request that while I'm gone you don't try to break free again. Doing so would only lead to you hurting yourself or worse and I would rather not have to call upon Hanash a second time for you.”

“Leave me,” Kya muttered with a sniffle. She gripped the tattered blanket firmly, holding it close as she awaited her captor's departure.

“We'll speak more in the morning,” the woman said, yet again sounding ashamed of herself.