The Heart of the Mirage by Glenda Larke Read Free Book Online

yourself enslaved there? And what ofall the newly arrived Kardi thralls you see here in Tyr from time to time? Of course there is slavery in Kardiastan!’
    ‘Oh—yes. Yes, of course,’ she muttered, flushing. ‘I was just—For a moment, I was remembering how it once was.’
    ‘Aemid, you haven’t been there for, what? More than twenty-five years? You were taken while the Kardiastan Uprising was still in progress, I know, but that was a long time ago. Those wars are long over; Kardiastan has long been a province of the Exaltarchy, and where the Exaltarch rules, there is always slavery. It is the natural order of things that the conquered should serve their masters. Now go and tell Brand I want to see him after I bathe. I have the stink of the Cages on my skin and I won’t feel clean until I’ve washed. You can send Dini in to do my hair.’ She nodded, apparently in control of herself again, but as she left the room, I noticed her hands trembled.
    When I emerged from my bedroom a while later, clean at last and dressed more comfortably in loose trousers and a long loose top, it was to find Brand waiting for me.
    Like Aemid, Brand was a house slave. The red flecks in the brown of his irises and the red flash over his forehead in his otherwise brown hair proclaimed his blood to be Altani. Altan Province was one of the conquered nations to the south of the Sea of Iss—but Brand never spoke of his home any more than Aemid did. He had been a gift from General Gayed to me on my tenth anniversary day. Twelve years old then, a defiant boy, skinny and undersized. Now he was a large man, taller by a head than I was, with a width to match his height and a strength to match his width.
    ‘Ah, there you are,’ I said. ‘Did Aemid tell you what the Exaltarch wanted?’
    He nodded. ‘Yes, Domina. Or should I say, um, Legata ?’
    A slave’s existence had so instilled caution in him that his expression always had about as much animation as the standing stones of northern Tyrans. Right then, though, I suspected he was mocking me, but I couldn’t tell for certain. Of all the people I had ever known, he alone was unreadable to me. I said, ‘I think you know damned well that I don’t care what you call me, although a little respect from time to time would be nice.’
    ‘Of course, Domina.’ The tiniest of pauses, then, ‘ Legata .’
    I resisted an impulse to throttle him. ‘I do want to know what you think about the posting to Kardiastan, however.’
    ‘Ah.’ Serious now, he considered a moment before replying. ‘I think the Magister Officii fears you.’
    I nodded. ‘And I fear you are right. I’ll be a long time away. How do you feel about it, Brand?’
    ‘Slaves don’t have opinions on matters like that, er, Ligea. Where you go, I go, unless you will it otherwise.’
    I gave him a sharp look, but I could not penetrate the mask he wore. He ignored my glance with unruffled urbanity. Gods above , I thought, twenty years as a slave, eighteen of them as my guard-servant, and none of it has destroyed either your dignity or your bloody pride, has it? Brand still knew his own worth, and he showed the world he valued himself. It often came as a shock to strangers when they noted his bronze slave collar. My friends warned me of the dangers of allowing helots too many liberties; I took no notice. My less charitable acquaintances spread the rumour I was besotted with my own thrall.
    I was far from besotted. In fact, at moments like this, I felt more inclined to strangle the man. ‘I should sell you before I go, preferably to the Domina Aurelia,’ I growled, naming the highborn wife of the Prefect Urbis of Tyr, a woman as stupid as she was frivolous. Her male slaves dressed in pink, had their hair curled and their faces plastered with cosmetics. She’d made me an offer for Brand once, after I visited her villa with him in attendance. I’d enjoyed telling him that, just for the rare joy of seeing his expression change.
    He