[Fordim Hedgethistle]

Seeing, quite literally, that his deception had been pierced Chakka took control of his body once more. It was difficult to tear his muscles away from their agony, but with a few deep breaths he stilled his pounding heart and smoothed away the tortured spasms of his sinews. He focused on his heartbeat and his breathing, becoming oblivious to all else, and went deep inside himself to the still point from which his energy came. He observed his legs and arms relax, then his mighty chest unknitted itself, and finally his neck and shoulders loosened, and with a sigh he relaxed against the deck. He lay there for a time, taking in great draughts of air allowing his body the moments it needed to return to life. He felt Rakin’s cold blade against his skin but it did not concern him: had the captain wanted him dead he would simply have thrown the slave overboard in his chains.

He opened his eyes and met the malicious gaze of his captor. He could not help but admire the man and his perceptions. Chakka had seen death in all its moods and tempers and had long practiced the art of mimicking them. His facility with the art had been the gift of his first master in the arts of gladiatorial combat, for there was no knowing when faking a death might not be the best way of escaping the arena alive. Heedless of the knife, Chakka pulled himself erect and sat upon the deck, meeting the captain’s piercing eyes. He did not speak in response to Rakin’s question, but glanced over his shoulder at the wall. The captain, following his gaze, moved to the wall and quickly found the small spyhole that Chakka had bored through it. He turned once more and surveyed his room: he saw the table where he prepared the antidote each morning and Chakka watched as full illumination dawned on Rakin. The captain smiled, and it was not a happy sight. “Well my lad, it would appear that there is more to than meets the eye. I am impressed – and I am not easily impressed. But how did you get the materials…” a delighted light came on behind his eyes. “Ah! I thought that a couple of my vials were being depleted somewhat too quickly. You are clever. Tossed your makeshift key overboard already have you, or…no…” He stepped out into passage for a moment, and when he came back he had in his hand the small store of equipment that Chakka had fashioned and hidden above the loose rafter. “More and more impressive. Impressive indeed.”

Rakin sat himself down once more and sipped at his wine. There was a long silence and Chakka knew that his fate depended on what he said next. Pleading, he knew, would mean his instant death, as would justifications or anger. There was only one thing he could say that would save his life, and even though it tore a hole in his pride like a jagged dagger, he said it. “You have defeated me, Captain. My life is yours to do with as you please.” A slow smile crept across the Captain’s face like a viper. Chakka saw that he had bought his life, but that he was soon to be consigned to an existence that would make it barely worth living. He spoke again, seizing on the one hope that yet remained. “You can send me to the oars, Captain, and leave me there until fatigue and the whip destroy me, but perhaps there is another way. You and I have been enemies, and as enemies I sought to destroy you, and you have thwarted that attempt. I accept your mastery, but I will never accept my enslavement.”

“I do not think that you are in any position to deny that fact,” said the captain.

“True. You have proven that I cannot escape – perhaps we can strike a bargain of some sort?” The captain was intrigued, but he said nothing. Chakka continued. “You admit that I have impressed you. I should, for I am unlike any slave you have seen. I am trained in the art of combat: this you know, it is why you selected me as your bodyguard. But I have shown myself resourceful and determined. Would it not be better to have me as an ally than as an enemy, even if only a defeated one?”

“An ally against whom, slave?”

“You forget, Captain, that I lived outside that very door for weeks. I know the state of your relations with the lords who are aboard this ship. I know that you feel uncertain of them: why else would you have secured my services as your guard? I can be of use to you with them. Send me back to the oars as punishment, but speak highly of me to the lords. Tell them how much you paid for me, and how impressive I am. Say how you wish for me to rot in the hold until I die. Let them know how much it would grieve you for me to ever see the light of day again. I have seen enough of these lords – of that one peacock in particular – to know that they will not pass up the opportunity of amusing themselves while annoying you. They will send for me. I will entertain them, I will please them – I will gain access to their chambers as I did to yours. Would it not be more…comfortable…for you knowing that you had an ally in that position?”

“And what,” Rakin asked, “would be the price of such an alliance?”

“My freedom, Captain. My freedom.”