"He still hasn't come back?"
Ninli knelt naked before me, head down, hands planted palms on the floor in submission. The blonde I had used earlier was giving water to a chained girl hanging by her feet. Sunlight streamed into the room.
"No, master," said Ninli, eyes darting up to regard Galena over my shoulder. Tired out, the priestess had largely stopped struggling. She groaned angrily into her gag, periodically. I had crossed and bound her ankles, and the bag was gone: her long, thick, red hair shined in the sunlight and swished behind my knees.
"When he does finally get here, you make sure he comes and finds me. Understand, Slave?"
"Yes, Master," Ninli put her lips to my feet and kissed them.
I left Fogrim's room and went downstairs to the inn's tavern.
***
The tavern was beginning to fill as we moved towards midday. A group of day laborers sat at the table, dipping hunks of bread into a pot of steaming, meat stew. A naked brunette went to a table of noisy, Shemite caravaneers and refilled their wine goblets. She squealed and jumped as one smacked her behind as she left. At the bar counter, a black-robed soothsayer rolled dice made from knucklebones, they clattered to a stop, and he read a worried-looking client his future. A group of slave drivers from the market looked up from their bowls of rice and roasted meat to glare at a tout trying to sell them fatted, green lizards he carried in small cages over his back. He left only when the innkeeper gave up yelling and came around the counter to chase him off.
Sitting at a table in a corner, as big as an ogre and looking right at me, was the Mazgar slaver again.
The ogre grinned with his sharpened teeth and gestured for me to sit with him.
I went over.
"Why are you following me?" I asked, I lowered Galena and made her kneel on the floor beside me. She tried to jerk away from me, but I grabbed her tight by her hair, she whimpered as my knuckles dug into her roots. I forced her head back to face the ceiling. She glared at me with those alien, purple irises.
"What is your interest in the Servants of Yarth-Tanophk?" He asked, leaning forward.
"What is yours?"
He snapped his fingers at a petite, Shemite slave girl with large eyes. She came rushing over, head bowed.
"Wine and meat, Slave," he said in perfect Shemite – right down to the accent.
"Yes, Master," she replied in kind, scurrying away.
"You have not answered my question."
"I find them,” he cleared his throat, “unusual.”
He beckoned to a dark-skinned, Darfuri slave girl. He spoke to her in Darfuri with the confidence of a native speaker. I did not understand, but the slave replied in Darfuri as well. After what seemed several questions and answers, the Mazgar reached a giant hand into a pouch of nuts and dried fruit and pulled out several shriveled berries. The slave girl's eyes lit up at the sight of them, he fed her them by hand, stroked her cheek, and gestured for her to be off. She bowed her head and left.
"You're a spy!"
The giant smiled at me but said nothing.
The Shemite slave returned with food and goblets of wind she set on the table. She stared in surprise at Galena's eyes.
"Water for your slave, Master?" She asked.
Galena snarled into her gag and turned red.
"No, I will water the slave when I see fit."
Galena gave me a look that would have cracked glass.
The Shemite girl left, and we turned back to our meal.
"Now I must ask you a second time, Hunter. What is it about the cult that has you stealing their priestesses?" He looked her up and down. "She is a fine-looking animal. Even without those eyes, she would fetch a good price."
She did not glare at the Mazgar; instead, a tremble passed through her.
"I sold them a slave," I replied. "Now, I want her back."
"That seems, Hunter, only part of the truth."
"You have told me nothing, still."
"I have told you too much."
A tall, blonde slave with green eyes and high cheekbones walked past. The Mazgar called her over, and she came and knelt at his feet, thighs apart, head down.
He held her jaw in his massive hand and lifted her head up to face him. He turned her whole head this way and that just by tilting his thumb, then he forced open her mouth and studied her teeth. He let go, and the two just stared at each other.
Then, the blonde crept under the table and began whimpering and licking his feet.
Such animal exchanges are common on Hyperborea.
"Let's play a game," I said, sipping my wine. "I tell you something that actually matters, and then you do the same. And then, maybe we play again. Alright?"
He looked under the table at the blonde.
“The cult is gathering worshipers to send away on an expedition. It will leave later today.”
"I know where it is going,” he replied. “The ruins of Aymund."
"Aymund? Why are they keeping that a secret?"
"Now you must tell me something," said the Mazgar. He reached under the table and stroked the blonde's buttocks.
"There are strange lights coming from Aymund. Some of those lights have been seen over the water, by boatman on the lake. I have seen those same lights in the jungle."
"How far from Aymund have you seen these lights?"
"A days travel from this town."
This seemed to give him pause.
"By night, campfires glow from the edges of the damned city," he said. "Now, with every new moon, the cult takes worshipers to Aymund. The worshipers do not return. They are not told where they are being taken, because otherwise, they may be too afraid to make the journey."
I could not help but notice that Galena was keeping quite still - and listening.
"Your priestess will not be able to tell you much," he said. "The lower priests are initiated in only few of their mysteries. Also, best not let her eyes be seen."
I pushed Galena under the table and forced her head down to her knees. Her body was soft and cold against my leg.
“No matter,” the giant smiled her like he was looking at a fine steak. “she will make a fine trophy, branded and collared."
"What can you tell me about Aymund? Why are the Darfuri so afraid of that place?"
"The ruins are a place of great danger, and also things not of this world that best remain in their own." His mood grew dark. "There are creatures there, monsters."
"Mi-Go?"
"Older. More powerful. The only people who go to Aymund are desperate treasure seekers and fools. Are you joining the expedition?"
"Did you just call me a fool?"
"You did steal a woman without knowing how you would steal her. But, should you join the caravan, know that I will be close. Should you learn more of what these cultists are doing, I can reward you well to share it," he reached into a bag and pulled out a small, leather pouch. He loosened it and shook it open. Several rough, uncut diamonds the size of my big toe fell out.
"Well, those are no dried berries. And you're certainly no slaver."
"You are not what meets the eye, either, Gerard Stone.
"I did not tell you my name."
"There is much that dried berries can reveal."
He reached under the table and guided the blonde's head to his groin.