Pathways - Jeri Taylor [193]
This time, he was neither melancholy nor amorous. His eyes flickered hotly and he paced from one end of the crowded room to the other. “You know how to get back to your underground city. Did you think I believed your lie? I’d hoped you would reward my generosity to you by giving me the information, but I can see you’re entirely too selfish to do that. I’ll get it out of you, don’t think I won’t.”
Fear nibbled at her belly. He hadn’t mentioned the tunnel in quite a while, and she’d hoped he’d given it up as a lost cause. Now, in his liquor-induced madness, it became a dangerous subject.
“Do you think it’s painful when I beat you? You have no idea what real pain can be. I promise you, it won’t be long before you’ll be promising me anything if I will just stop hurting you.”
“Maje, I’ve served you faithfully. Please believe me when I tell you I couldn’t find the tunnel again—”
“Quiet!” His voice was an explosion that reverberated through the night. He leaned across the table toward her, eyes glittering, frenzied. “Think about it all night, little Ocampa. That frail body of yours won’t stand much, I promise you. Go. We’ll see if you’re more cooperative tomorrow morning.”
He turned away from her and drained the last of his cup of gannit. Kes scurried away and huddled on her pallet, terrified, afraid for the sun to rise again.
But morning brought no mention of the tunnel, or of his threats of hideous torture. She stayed out of sight at the back of the room, hoping the liquor had clouded his memory. Then a figure entered the room and she heard Jabin say, “Did you bring water?”
The visitor whose voice she cherished replied, “Indeed, my good friend, I have seven barrels—cool and pure. It should slake your thirst handsomely.”
Jabin called out an order and almost instantly a water barrel was brought before him. “Ocampa!” he yelled, and Kes quailed. He’d not forgotten about her. She walked out of the protective darkness and toward the two men, hoping to escape this encounter without being hurt.
This was the first time she had seen the visitor closely. He wasn’t nearly as large as the Kazon, and had a series of spots patterned on his head and hands. A fine ruff of hair protruded from the top of his head and spilled down his back, and his eyes, a yellow-orange, were as kind as his voice. A feeling of peace came over her when she looked at him, and she decided that was because he was an innately good man.
Jabin jerked his head toward the water barrel and Kes understood that he wanted her to serve them. She drew cups of water for both, then withdrew slightly, hoping to stay out of Jabin’s vision.
But she was intensely aware that the other man was staring at her, as though transfixed. Jabin laughed. “Quite a beauty, isn’t she? But that’s where her assets end. She’s all but worthless as a slave. Tires easily, wilts in the heat, no strength at all.”
“I can see that,” said the visitor. “She’s frail. Probably sickly. I might find household work for her, if you’d be interested in trading.”
Kes could hardly contain herself at this statement. Was it possible this man might get her out of the Kazon encampment? Would Jabin be willing to trade her for water? She didn’t quite hear what they were saying next, she was so excited. But when she tuned back in, that excitement shattered, to be replaced by despair.
“She’s worth nothing to me as a worker,” Jabin was saying. “But she has information I’m determined to get. She’s proved recalcitrant so far, but I’m ready to move to more persuasive methods.”
He hadn’t forgotten the night before. He intended to do terrible things to her, to force her to reveal the hiding place of the tunnel opening. What could she do? Panic rose and she tried to will it away, tried to keep her mind composed so she could devise a plan. In desperation, she felt her mind reaching out to the kind stranger, the man who had suggested taking her away. “Please . . . help me . . .”
The visitor turned toward her and blinked. She