Slavemaster's Woman, The Read Online Free PDF Page A

when
disappointment spread across her face. “You may leave now.”
    “Yes, m’lord, as you wish.” Ayia turned to
toward the door and exited. She didn’t bother to don her clothes.
In fact, it seemed she had no clothes since the slavemaster saw
none of such in his chamber.
    Tossing his bags to the floor Tarken lay on
the bed and stared at the ceiling for only a brief moment. He
drifted toward sleep. There was a knock on the door disturbing his
oncoming slumber, and he chose to ignore it. Three more
knocks—louder this time and Tarken grunted his irritation as he
rolled from the bed. He hadn’t summoned anyone. Grabbing his
bunched up pants from the floor, he slid into them, not bothering
to fasten them up. He opened the door.
    “Good eve, sir,” the caller greeted,
stepping through the entrance, uninvited.
    “And who might you be?” Tarken scrutinized
the man from head to toe.
    He was well dressed in jade-colored trousers
and a black shirt made of the finest materials. He walked like he
was regal, holding his head like he belonged wherever he chose to
tread and his arrogance was stinking up the room. His bald head
gleamed from the low lighting and his brown eyes were small, an
overly large nose sat in the middle of his face. A thin mustache
and pointed tuft of hair on his chin did little to hide his thin
lips. He possessed a look that dripped with dishonesty.
    Tarken disliked him immediately.
    “Allow me to introduce myself,” The tall,
skinny man glanced about the room. “Lavidis Vanirgor.”
    “Ah yes,” Tarken responded. “The slave
trader.”
    “That would be me.” Lavidis strolled across
the floor, eyeing the cabinet he knew held spirits. “Mind if I have
a drink?”
    “Help yourself.” Tarken closed the door to
his room, the slamming sound slight but revealing enough of his
annoyance. “I thought to sleep and then see you on the early
dawning.”
    The man didn’t take the hint. “Ah, well—it
is just past the supper hour and I thought to transfer ownership of
the girl this eve.”
    “Anxious to rid yourself of her?” Tarken had
been told by the king that the girl was having trouble accepting
her station, but he wondered how bad she could be if the trader was
so anxious to deposit her. She likely just needed a bit of proper
training.
    “I have twenty-five slaves in my corral at
the moment. They are quite costly to keep.” Lavidis opened the
cellarette and poured a drink, choosing the most expensive on the
shelf. He swirled his cup focusing a bit too intensely on the
prismatic liquid it contained. “His Majesty has already paid for
her. It seems only proper that I deliver her to you
immediately.”
    Tarken eyed the man suspiciously. “What are
you failing to tell me, Lavidis?”
    The slave trader took a sip of his drink and
then released a harsh breath. He took a lengthy time in silence
before he decided to speak. “The truth…ah, the truth is—I’m afraid
she might try to abscond again, and I don’t want to lose the
disgustingly large sum paid for her, if she succeeds this
time.”
    “She’s a runner?” Tarken drew his brows
together. The trader seemed forthcoming with this information, so
he didn’t think the man had any other motive other than wanting to
keep the purse the slave earned him.
    “What else?” Tarken asked him.
    “Really nothing else, other than…” Lavidis
lifted his glass to his lips and took a hefty swallow. “She is
resistive, rebellious and has a smart mouth on her.”
    Tarken started to speak, but Lavidis held up
his hand. “I’ve told the king all of this.”
    Contemplating the slave trader’s words,
Tarken couldn’t help but wonder why his Majesty would make such a
purchase and at what was apparently an inflated price. “So, I’m
supposing at this moment that you want me to come with you to
retrieve her?”
    “It would be much appreciated m’lord.”
    Tarken blew out a gust of air. What he
really hoped for was a good eve’s rest. He didn’t