Elvenbane

lords made that clear, although they probably didn't realize it, in the tone of their questions. The idea of one day seeing Alara's skin adorning the back of an elven lord was enough to seal her lips against almost anything.

And for those moments of supreme weakness when an elven lord threatened her with more pain, there was another consideration. The Kin took the forms of two-leggers, elves and humans, and Shana no longer supposed it was for amusement's sake among the Lairs. No, they undoubtedly came among these people in disguise. And if...no, when...any of them learned that she had betrayed them, they would find her, and they would kill her in a way that would make the worst the elven lords could do seem pleasant. She had no doubts of that. The ones like Lori, who thought she was a rabid beast, would see to it.

So she shivered on her flat brown pallet until they took her away, then she endured the questions in silent desperation, pretending she hardly understood them, and pretending that she had simply found the bits of skin.

Her ploy did seem to be working; their manner seemed to become more and more perfunctory with her, as if her answers no longer mattered. That was the good part; the bad part was that they always saw that she violated some rule or other every day. That meant a beating; and with the beating came descriptions of what she could expect when a 'master' bought her at the auction...descriptions that left her no doubt at all that the beatings she endured daily were nothing compared with what was coming. She almost came to welcome the appearance of her questioners: It meant one more day she would not have to face the unknown terrors of being sold.

Maybe today they wouldn't come for her, she thought, without real hope, as she sat up slowly, rubbing her eyes. Her green eyes, which she had learned to hide, thanks to the one friend she had made here.

She reached over and gently shook Megwyn's shoulder. The graceful older woman didn't wake when the light came on; she had told Shana, ruefully, that she once slept through an earthquake. Of her fellow slaves, only Megwyn had proved to be at all interested in anything outside of her own well-being. The first morning after Shana had been penned here, one of the others had tried to steal her morning's ration of bread and soup. A tall, black- haired woman with bright brown eyes and a beautiful smile had been sitting across the table, and had stood up unexpectedly and cuffed the bully across the side of the head.

The overseer, seeing the scuffle, had hurried over. Shana had cringed, but Meg had explained the circumstances in matter-of-fact tones before the bully had a chance to think up a story. The bully was taken to another table; and Meg became Shana's protector.

There were three kinds of slaves, Meg explained that first day: the hopeless, the helpless, and the loupers. The loupers preyed on the others, she'd said, in a way that Shana readily understood. The hopeless were too afraid someone would use them to make friends, and the helpless had given up on everything.

'And what kind are you?' Shana had asked the older woman, innocently.

Meg had laughed. 'None of them,' she had said. 'I'm not a slave. Or at least, I wasn't. I was a bondling.'

That was when Shana had learned the difference that tunic-color made. And had learned about the concubines.

For Megwyn Karan had been a concubine. 'And a good one,' she'd said proudly. But another woman, a jealous rival, had accused her of thieving a valuable gem from her elven lord, one of Berenel's underlings, and planted the stolen object under her bed. Disgraced, Meg had suffered the worst punishment any concubine could have; she had been sent down to be auctioned as a common slave.

'That's what I get for being nice to the bitch,' Meg had said bitterly, and then would say no more.

She readily admitted to Shana what had made her decide to protect the girl. 'It's your green eyes,' she'd said. 'And if you look real close, your ears are kind of pointy. You'd better hide them both, unless you want a lot of trouble. You're a halfblood, girl. I don't know how you got away without being spotted before this, but you're a halfblood.'

Meg had explained all about the halfbloods, and the little she knew about the Wizard War. When Shana had told her, tentatively, about the power she used to have, Meg had nodded knowingly. 'That's wizard-power, all right,' she'd said. 'If you can just get it back, you'll be able to get us both out of here. Then we can head for the forest. Folks say there's wizards there...if I'm with you, if you maybe say I'm your mother, they'll take me in too.'

If they ever got away. If Shana's powers ever came back. If she lived through the day's questions.

She shook Meg again, and this time the woman opened her eyes...and that same moment, not one, but several of the overseers came through the open door of the room.

'Shana!' called one, and Meg sat up quickly, as if they had called her name. She looked over her shoulder at the newcomers, and looked back at Shana, frowning.

'Don't answer, child,' she whispered, a slight tremor in her voice. 'Make them come to us. These aren't Lord Berenel's men; they've got no business here.'

Indeed, the men wore blue tunics and trews, not red. 'Which one of you is Shana?' the nearest one growled, seizing the arm of a slave and shaking the man. The slave pointed, and the overseer looked up, scowling.

'Here they come,' Meg growled, putting her hand on Shana's shoulder. 'Don't move. You have rights as Lord Berenel's property. I'll be with you.'

Shana couldn't have moved if she had wanted to. She was paralyzed with fear. She knew that kind of swagger, the look in those eyes; it was what the bullies wore when they knew they weren't going to be caught.

And with every step they took, she shrank further inside herself. For every step seemed to land right on her heart.

Chapter 13

WHICH ONE OF you is Shana?' asked the tallest of the men, a blond, bearded one with a hard face and strange, colorless eyes. He looked down on them both as if they were something he'd found in the street, and was debating on whether to kick it away.

'That Shana is a girl, remember?' the dark one at his right said, waving dismissingly at Meg. 'It can't be that old hag.'

This second man, a chunky, black-haired human, shoved Meg aside and hauled Shana to her feet, his fingers clamped hard and painfully on her shoulder. 'This has to be the one we want, Ran.' Shana hung in his hands, limp with fear, as Meg rose to her feet.

'Now you just wait a moment, boy,' she said haughtily, taking on a pride and an air of authority Shana had never seen her use before. She raised her chin, and looked down her nose at him, as if he were something unpleasant she'd just stepped in. 'You aren't Lord

Berenel's people...who gave you leave to come in here and traffic with his slaves?'

For a moment, all four men stepped back a pace, even the hard-faced man looking doubtful...but then, when one of the other slaves let an hysterical giggle slip, they seemed to recollect themselves.

The hard man stepped forward again, raising his arm, and slapped Meg with the back of his hand; the crack of flesh-on-flesh echoed across the room, making the already silent slaves shrink back against the walls. Meg's head snapped back with the force of the blow, and she dropped to the ground, stunned.

'That's our authority, bitch,' snarled the blonde, a cruel smile barely curving his thin lips as he massaged his reddened hand with the other.

Meg started to struggle to her feet again, doggedly persistent in facing them down. Shana couldn't understand why, and tried to free herself for one moment, before the man holding her shook her so hard her teeth rattled and she went limp again.