The brands are tested.

"All that remains is to test the brands are connected." The old **** informed Rezma. "All slaves wearing Trimon's brand supplied by the guild will be affected. Is this likely to be a problem?"

"None I can think of." The Shemite replied. "Seven bear the brand, three are in heavy bondage as fuckmeat all day and the remaining five will be doing nothing more vital than braiding one another's hair. All know these girls were being branded and expect the test."

The master of brands nodded and returned to his tome and laid the glass brand in front of him on the table. He recited a page of the tome in the same incomprehensible language of the earlier ritual. The Akkadian felt the silvery blue brand on his thigh begin to warm up and sting terribly. Soon both the assassin were sobbing and crying out in pain. Visha too trembled and cried out, although her laughter and gyrating hips proved that the Stygian still experienced only pleasure from the burning sigil.

The slaver ceased his chanting and the Akkadian's pain subsided quickly. He was confused to be bathed in a blue light before he realised the light emanated from the brands upon his and the two other slaves thighs. The light was so intense the Akkadian reckoned any clothing other than thick leather or metal armour would not fully mask the light. The thin silks and cottons usually worn by **** girls would not even dim the brightness of the glowing brands.

Even if someone observing the glowing brands was unaware of the cause it would bring unwanted attention and the Akkadian that guards or those familiar with the trade of slaves would recognise the cause at once. This was an added complication to an escape, not only would he need to find a way out of the harem and Trimon's hold. Somehow he would very quickly need to be clear of Al Areth or sheltered and protected in a place of concealment. The old slaver allowed the brands to glow brightly for a minute before uttering a phrase that dismissed the magic and the brands faded to their previous shiny state.

"A useful effect." Rezma said with a laugh. "A running slut would shine like a lighthouse at night. A half blind fool could not fail to spot them."

There was a brief knock at the door before the **** guild official that had escorted them in returned to the room. Three freshly copied deeds of ownership were presented to Rezma with an effusive bow.

"Trimon's updated bills of sale for these fine sluts mistress Rezma." The slaver official declared. "I trust all was to your satisfaction with the branding. The guild's service might be pricey, but is second to none in value."

"Everything was perfectly fine." The Shemite agreed and handed over a weighty pouch of coin. "Here is the agreed payment for the service."

With the mistress's business in the guild of slavers concluded she led the coffle of freshly branded slaves back out onto the broad plaza of the central district. The Akkadian could not resist repeated glancing down as he walked, the bluish silver mark of Trimon's crossed daggers a constant reminder that he was now officially the property of the warlord.