The practice lathes met with a choreographed rhythm, the wood clacking loudly as Hawk moved with a flowing, lightning quick grace. The man before him did all he could to fend off Hawk?s blows with the practice blade, parrying and giving no quarter. Suddenly the dance shifted, and his opponent began to rain downward blows that drove him to take a few steps backwards. Hawk?s blade sung as it cut through the air, winding in a blur of motion as he held it parallel to the ground, easily fending off Shao?s downward strikes and pressing forward so that the man before him walked back to the fence that bordered the training yard. Hawk?s lathe was a blur of motion as it shifted directions suddenly and Shao?s lathe clattered upon the ground. ?Much better.? Hawk stated simply, leveling his practice blade to Shao?s throat. The tilted crescents of the other man?s eyes narrowed as he smiled. ?You fight good Silence, no?? Shao?s accent was still thick, and his use of the Common tongue stuttered. He had taken to calling him Silence, a comment on how quiet Hawk often was. ?We fight in many turns of the sun. I think you make big challenge.? Hawk lowered his blade and turned away from the shorter man. ?I think you will be a fine opponent Shao.? Hawk knelt to gather the other practice blade into his scarred hands and walked across the yard to place them back in the rack.

Shao was shorter than Hawk by a few inches, but what he lacked in height he made up for in ferocity. He was built stoutly, his shoulders never intended to be broad but the bulky muscle upon them increasing their breadth. His skin was gray, his eyes were thin and slanted, and his hair was long and bound in leather in a braid behind his head. When he approached Hawk he clapped the Champion upon the back. ?We go get ale right? Nice night of pretend fight, celebrate with ale?? Hawk shook his head slowly. ?Not tonight Shao.? Shao?s smile was worn into the etched features of his face. ?Why? Ale other nights, why not now night? You fight me, I win. You fight me, you win.? Shao shrugged his shoulders slowly as if it was just simple fact.

Hawk turned from the rack to face Shao and shook his head. ?It is not losing that I fear, Shao. It is the price of winning that I fear. You train and drink with a man who in a fortnights time you shall face in the Arena.? The look upon Hawk?s face was pained. ?To the death.? Shao shrugged his shoulders with indifference and laughed brightly. ?You not like to fight? You go serve with cup and wine. Fight I have since small.? He gestured with his hand to indicate just how small, and tapped a finger against the collar that marked him as one of House Buren?s, the same collar that encircled Hawk?s neck uncomfortably.

Hawk?s haunted earthen eyes sparked aflame suddenly. ?Yes, but it does not need to be so! I have seen the way you fight, and of all the arena fighters who serve here. What little guard Lord Buren keeps could be easily overcome! We could slay the man who enslaved us and gain our freedom!? He was nearly shouting, searching Shao?s eyes for any sort of empathy. Shao simply shook his head and laughed. ?You make good joke, Silence. I have bed servant, food, ale.? Hawk stepped forward. He wanted to shake the man. ?Yes, but you would have your freedom! You would need not fight and kill needlessly for the entertainment of others.?

Shao nearly doubled over with laughter, pointing at Hawk as he shook his head. ?You make good funny Silence. I love fight.? Shao turned and began his trek from the training yard, back towards the Keep. ?See you with blade.?

The next time the two met, Shao had managed to stagger Hawk with a devastating wound that ran a long gash down his chest and threatened to plunge its way into his abdomen. Instinct took over in its furious red wave, and when he was able to realize what had happened, Shao?s head rolled upon the ground, with Hawk frozen in the position of his completed killing stroke.

Shao had not been the first he had implored to deny his upbringing and help him gain freedom.

No matter how many men fell before him in similar fashion, there never was, or would be, a last.

?Who's anger, my dear? You do not seem to be bothering anyone.? Travanix looked at Hawk then smirked. ?I assure you, she has greater fear here than anywhere else. But you would not understand that, would you?? This was spoken to Hawk, as he watched the girl.

?Not in this place.? Malevolence flared within Hawk?s eyes as he stepped purposefully between Anjul and Travanix. He did not move more than snap quickly into place in a blur of motion. ?None? he emphasized drastically, ?Can come to harm here. By edict of its proprietor, and upheld by the tenders, and many patrons, who deem it so. Do you wish to challenge such edict??

Travanix smirked, looking from the girl to Hawk. ?Yes, but have you thought about what you are doing to her, sir.? He looked back to the girl. ?She addresses everyone with the respect that comes from being a slave from birth. Now, I may not have enslaved her, but she is a slave in her mind, since her birth. You defending her as anything but, causes her more harm than even I could do.?

Moments had passed and Anjul had not moved. Hair still lay about her hair and face, with her form bent forward in a kneel to keep her forhead against the floor. Hands to either side, clothed as well with spiraled auburn locks.

There was much sharpness to Hawk?s words, despite the lack of displayed emotions within his voice or expressions. ?Perhaps that is so.? Forearms coiled in tiers just beneath the distinguished rise of his pectorals. ?Yet there have been some that taste freedom for the first time and relish it.? As still as he stood he looked sculpted into his spot, only his lips moved. ?None may come to harm here.? He reaffirmed. ?And this one I am claiming for myself.?

It felt as if the pair might come to blows, or worse. Anjul pressed back from both, drawing spirals of auburn lengths along the floor in those mere, few inches that she moved. There was fear of anger amongst them and stilled herself again. Hawk?s hand was unseen with her head just above the level of the floor, but boots, she saw well.

Travanix smirked still. ?Let us witness the collaring of this slave! Mark your property as only you can. Make it public.? He stepped to the side so that all could see the noble Hawk was about to take a slave. ?There are enough slavers here that they would record the collaring, and mark you as a fellow slaver. There are those here that are of noble birth, that would look upon you as you look upon me. Tell me now, sir...Are you truly prepared to become that which you hate?? He did not hide his voice, he did not show fear, he was amused witht his attempt to free a slave, and now using Hawk's own words, he trapped him. ?Tell me, slaver - what will you do?? He was doing everything he could to draw attention Hawk, except yell at the top of his lungs.

In the midst of their talks, Anjul moved and was quickly on her hands and knees. With some hopes of stealing herself away from the two while anger was still on the horizon. Without an inkling of a hint to it, she bolted towards the busy bar and behind the one serving the drinks there. Out of sight behind the counter, behind Sid, she dropped to rest. Her back found the wood of shelves and drawers there and silk was just then slipping into place at her thighs.

Hawk made a slight turn back to Travanix. ?Yet again I ask, what concern is it of yours?? This time his tilted almond eyes became crescents. ?Do I intercede so vehemently within your filthy trade?? He spit the words out sharply. ?Or is that a fate you wish upon yourself?? Earthen eyes followed Anjul as she shielded herself with Sid. He gave the Ancient a knowing glance and turned to face Travanix fully.

?I am simply pointing out that you either a failure as a ?freedom fighter? or as a ?slaver?. Which is it, sir? Which one are you going to surrender to? Are you a slaver, or a guard?? Travanix said it loud enough for all to hear. ?Are you man enough to collar a girl to kill her or to free her?? He smirked and took another drink of his ale. ?Because you cannot be both.?

?If there is one thing I have learned...? Hawk reached into one of the various pouches upon his leather belt, pulling free something wrapped in wax paper. ?From coming here, is that I can be whatever it is I so choose.? The wax paper was unfolded, and revealed a line of connected tourmaline gems set in platinum, gleaming brilliant within the light as he pulled the string free and held it contemplatively before him. At either end of the string of gems were simple jeweler's clasps.

"Better a slaver at large than a prick at large!" Someone shouted from the peanut gallery.

The ?collar? in Hawk?s hand was in all actuality a stunning, finely crafted necklace. He walked behind the bar knelt before Anjul to secure it around her neck. ?There child, a fitting collar.? He whispered hoarsely as he placed the ?collar? around Anjul?s neck. A grimace flitted over his face and he closed his eyes for a long moment. Forgive me, d?aram o man. He thought, begging absolution from the necklaces intended wearer. The clasps locked together with a noise that resounded like a thunder clap in his ears. Light, forgive me.

Travanix looked back at Hawk. ?You, sir, have commited the greatest crime there is to commit against another slaver.? He looked back at Anjul. ?Girl, are you owned other than by this man??

?The other collar bears no mark.? He said, having noted the ring of simple steel around her neck before. ?If another claims her than where is their brand??

Chattel yanked back from Lord Travanix and thunked her head against the wood of the counter. The second collar clattered against the first.

He slipped to the side, displaying the second collar. It was not his. ?This collar is the mark of another, and it is not one I am familiar with.? He grasped Hawk?s makeshift ?collar? and examined it. ?Girl, return to your master before he discovers this failure, and punishes you with death.? He looked back at Hawk. ?And pray her true owner does not find you.? He stood up, walking around the bar to the other side. ?You are a failure as a defender, and as a slaver.?

?Give me a mo', sweet.? Sid took turned to bend her head to Anjul, her free hand touching to the place she crashed her noggin. ?Careful, girl. Jus' remain here.? A soothing touch and smile to the lass and she takes a sip from her mocha, munching the bit of chocolate with a slight contented sigh.

Travanix moved back to his seat. ?The show is over, folks, unfortunately.? He said loudly enough to interject over the blatant ignorance of Zonker. ?The girl needs to return to her proper owner.? He shot a dark glance to Zonker. ?And ownership has no limit, no boundary to cross. Get used to it?. He took the last drink of his ale.

?Simple steel?? Hawk shook his head. ?Even you are not as foolish to believe that any sound slaver would place a collar and leave it unmarked, unclaimed.?

When Anjul reached the door she yanked on it hard enough to open, but it didn't move. It didn't budge and wouldn't open. She yanked again and put her right foot against the wall next to it.

?Slavers mark how they wish. It is their house, their rules. Perhaps you should join me, and I can teach you the proper methods.? Travanix said coolly. He pulled one of his own from a thigh pocket, placing it on the bar. It appeared to be simple silver in a circle. ?I assure you, though this mark is simple, there are none that will touch it. Simple steel, complex leather workings - it is a mark, and some one's intended. She is someone else?s. I would want my property returned to me if it were lost. It is a common respect.? Those words sounded strange coming from his mouth.

Hawk?s eyes made their way to Travanix coldly. ?You have brought down upon yourself a much worse fate than that of one slave freed.? With that he turned and approached Anjul. ?The name of your master, what is it?? He said as he looked to her.

?Who be ownin' ye, girl? Speak truth, ye dun wan' my wrath upon ye hide.? Sid added to Hawk?s inquiry. Her voice was not unkind, but it spoke of business and brooked no argument.

A yelp sounded and Anjul froze. The voice was remembered from when Sid had told her to get away from the door so she wouldn't be trampled. Knees hit the floor hard as she saw Sid moving her way. As she had done in Lord Travanix's approach of her, she lowered down so far that her forehead was against the boards of the floor. ?The markets, mistress. I am city owned and claimed.? She pressed her forehead firmly against the floor with her hair pooled lengthily about her head and at her hands.

Sid raised a single finger to Hawk as he made her side. She felt him at the bar and the one just entered. Deep breaths and she pulls from deep roots, that inner light a fair silver glow from inside out.

Again uncomfortably his disfigured hand scratched fingers without nails around his neck at its mid-line. The collar he had worn had not been felt around his neck in quite some time, but he itched at its ghost none the less. He nodded simply. ?So then a fee to the markets must be paid.?

?Right then. City owned an' claimed ye can purchase her from the Marketplace, Sir Hawk. Until then...? Reaching down she delicately removes the tourmaline "collar" and hands it back to the male. ?She remains in the City's hands. I suggest ye make a purchase order for her toute de suite. She be fetchin' interest.? Pointed glance from Hawk to Travanix. ?Until such time...? One finger touches beneath Anjul's chin and she brings it upwards to meet glamoured blue eyes. ?Tell me wha' they call ye, girl??

She shook. So much could have happened with the next twist of breath or breeze. The end of the woman's finger brought her face up from being so close to the floor. Spirals of hair hung about her face. ?Anjul Narii.? She said.

?You may rise, Anjul.? The way Anjul prostrated herself before Hawk made him starkly uncomfortable, but this did not echo within his resolute voice. He nodded his head in acknowledgement of Sid?s words.

Metal circled Anjul?s neck and about the joints of wrist and ankles. Knee pressed against knee as she dips her head to Hawk. She still felt the touch of Sid's finger at her chin though that touch was gone.

He held a silver flask within his right hand, the left hand appearing momentarily to free the cap from its top. He lifted it to his lips and took a long sip. The liquid within did not dull the irritation around his neck. ?The markets.? He muttered to no one in particular.

Zonker turned to Hawk to address him again. ?Obsidian seems tae trust ye so I must assume ye be something other than a slaver and that ye shall find a way tae achieve freedom for this lass. Believe nae the rhetoric of Travanix that keep tae many of Rhydin neutral tae the abomination. Freedom can be embraced e'en by those who ha' knew but naught else. Willing slavery be a comfortable lie that placates the masses, Donnae subscribe tae it.?

?That I do not, sir.? Hawk dipped his head as another sip from his flask was taken. ?My brother was a slave from birth. When we earned our freedom, together, he adjusted to it with ease.? A glance down to Anjul who had taken up residence beside his barstool.:: ?Better to sit at my feet than at the feet of him.? He pointed to Travanix.

Anjul was very aware of where Hawk was. His voice moved over her head as she kept her eyes on the floor and sometimes his boots. The barstool leg was held on to.

?Better tae stand.? Zonker made one last comment to the Ranger before he returned to his previous conversation.

?The markets?? Hawk said, swirling what little now remained in the flask and swallowing that as well. ?..shall fall.? He said this with much certainty. ?Aye.? He nodded his head, though Zonker had gone. ?Much better to stand. Much better for them all to stand.?

Panther stood behind the bar, and Hawk acknowledged him with a respectful bow of his head. He stepped before where Hawk sat at the bar and handed hawk a mug of hot cocoa. ?For your guest.? He said simply.

?Thank you Lord Panther.? Hawk remarked politely, and grasped the mug in his hands. ?This is for you Anjul. Drink.? He handed the mug to the slave sitting at his feet.

?Master Hawk, will you allow a question from me?? Anjul?s hand stayed at the leg of the barstool he sat on while she watched the floor. Hands turned with palms facing her to take from his hand the drink. Gracefully they lowered and pressed the mug in between silk covered swells. When it was lifted again she drank from it.

?You may ask, Anjul.?

There was a weight felt to the middle of her shoulders. ?Have I brought anger, master Hawk?? The men's upset words were still on the air whether they were heard any longer or not. She curled her fingers against silk hems.


He shook his head. ?No. You have brought no anger.? Earthen eyes flowed down his body to Anjul. ?You must tell me when you have needs of returning to the market Anjul. For I shall return with you.? Youth bred foolishness sometimes, and the inability to listen to his elders.

?When there is want to go to the market, I will follow.? Anjul lifted the mug to the counter. Her fingers pushed it a little further to keep it from falling. Her head stayed lowered though after the trouble and storm of words she had caused.

More silvers were placed upon the countertop and he shifted within his seat to watch Anjul closely. Velvet lips parted slightly as he sipped upon the liquid in his flask slowly. ?Have you ever had a master, Anjul??

?Yes, master. Hands to hands before the auction block brought me to the markets here.? She moved her head to try to steal a look at him and brush her head against his leg instead. She adjusted her kneel to give him room and saw the boots of Travanix.

?What purpose did you serve before you were sold to the city, Anjul?? He did not move away, nor even present the discomfort he felt at the brush of her cheek to his leg. But he felt filthy. More whisky was swallowed, and the glance to Travanix made him feel even more uncomfortable.

?Please master Hawk, if serving you tonight is not felt to be right I can leave to the market.? The question was not ignored though, as her eyes rested on his nearest boot. ?I served in ways needed. Cooking, pleasure, cleaning. These are not tasks unfamiliar.?


He shook his head, this time the whisky was poured down his throat until it burn his throat painfully. ?You cause no discomfort, Anjul.? He tilted his head to the side. ?Cleaning you say? My ba'ro'dahr's forge requires cleaning occasionally. I shall have to seek your price when we return to the markets.?

Her chin remained against the cold metal that circled her neck. ?Work is purpose and purpose proves worth. Thank you, master Hawk.?

?Aye.? He said, placing his empty tumbler down upon the countertop before him. Boots silently touched the floor, the cloak of flowing colors winding about him. ?We go to the Markets, Anjul. Come.? A finger beneath her chin tilted her head to rise.

When he turned, she turned with him. Bare steps knew the ground intimately and avoided the dips and small sharp rocks along the way. His mind seemed weighted with matters and kept her tongue still for a long while to keep anger well at bay. Black silk hems carressed her thighs by pace alone. When she could, she looked beyond his shoulder and arm to where they were going.

Dangerously graceful steps bore much violence within each movement he made, knowing that she kept to him as a shadow he talked as they passed the fountains and turned south of the main thoroughfare. ?Death was nearly met within the arena each day. Dishonor forced upon me, and worn like the cloak you see upon my shoulders.? They turned west off of a side street, various shops all closed up for the night resided on this street.

?Dishonor would not be laid at your feet, master Hawk.? The cloak made her gaze grow diffused and her head swam until eyes diverted from it. Breeze mussed spirals of auburn until some tickled against the flesh of her cheek and neck. Her words were a quiet promise to the man who seemed very determined to see her within his service.

?No.? He shook his head as he stopped between two shops, tipping his head into an alleyway that was littered with various casks and barrels. ?Praise was heaped upon my feet. Lavish quarters, renown, my choice of my Master's best bed slaves at my behest.? Solemnly he shook his head. ?But not my freedom.? Wooden steps peered just out from the corner of the building to their left; he began the ascent to the large wooden deck that was elevated to the ornately carved door at the second level. Carved into the wood of the door was a hawk with wings spread akimbo and a blacksmith's hammer inlaid over one another. ?And not my honor.? He turned a key into the lock on the door and opened it.:: ?This is the Forge.? Directly before the entrance was a long hallway and he stepped into it.

?It was meant...that I would not.. that I will strive not to dishonor you, master Hawk.? As he spoke again, this time of the Forge, Anjul grew quiet. The sight of the door and what lay beyond it was looked at lingeringly. Then she moved with him into the hall. Her hand swept gently against the well as she stole of him a glance before she looked elsewhere.

?I am certain you will bring no dishonor at all Anjul.? The hallway was long and contained only two doors. ?The first door.? He pointed. ?Is where my ba'ro'dahr resides, Jon Henri. The store downstairs is his and will need your cleaning.? His head tipped to the side, behind the wall they stood against the loud rumbling of Jon Henri's snoring could be heard. ?Come.? He led her to the end of the hallway where a set of stairs reside, he climbed these stairs and opened the door at the top, stepping inside a large room. Lit candles cast the shadows aside revealing a bed in the corner in disarray, a work bench with wooden shavings upon it and various carving tools and an incomplete carving of a woman. ?This is my room. Where you shall be staying.?

Dutifully, her steps followed without the merest pause. The night had turned and twisted like a leaf on the wind. At times the slave did not know where the path would lead in her life. Passed the wall through which the snoring could be heard, and up to where master Hawk's room was until she stood within it. Gaze was curious and sought every little thing about it, reflexively to the carving and its incomplete beauty there. Fingers itched to clean away the wood shavings and pieces, but she stayed there near the door for the moment, at least. ?Is it permitted to sleep on the floor at the foot of your bed, master Hawk??

?Aye, Anjul.? Upon one wall of the room were many shelves and drawers, he walked over to this area and pulled a drawer open, removing from it a thick fur pelt that he spread out upon the ground at the foot of his bed. ?I do not tire like most men do.? A thick blanket was placed upon the pelt, and he stepped over to his unmade bed to pick up one of the many pillows and place it atop the pile of linens at the foot of his bed. ?You shall sleep when you tire.? Fingers agilely picked at the cords tied about his neck that kept his cloak secured to his broad shoulders. Loosening it he allowed it to fall upon his bed. He gathered the strange cloak and hung it upon a peg on the wall. For a moment it appeared and then was claimed by the oak color of the wall. Fingers touched her chin so she would look at him. ?You understand? I sleep but once a fortnight. If I require anything of you I shall wake you. But you shall sleep when you tire.?

?Only one in a fortnight, master?? The idea was so foreign to her thoughts that lips parted in awe of it. ?Yes, master Hawk, I understand. I will not wait until you tire to take my rest.? Chin slipped away from his fingers and she lowered to her knees before him. She lowered her body until silk bathed breasts touched the floor and her cheek met with the toe of his right boot to thank him.

?Aye. Only one.? The backs of his knees met the bed behind him and he lowered his seat upon the mattress comfortably. ?Good.? He brushed scarred fingers through auburn hair to pat her head approvingly. ?It is good that you understand me.?

Face lifted to him for the eyes that he sought earlier and felt his hand within her hair that brought a lilting of her head towards that touch before she caught herself. ?There was fear earlier. It is begged of you to forgive me for being foolish in the public eyes of the inn earlier.? Lips breathed the words at nearly a whisper, hoping.

?You need not seek my forgiveness Anjul.? Uncalloused palms gathered auburn locks strayed from her bow moments before to clear them from her face. Chocolate eyes met her gaze in earnest. ?You were confused, frightened. I can bare no ill will towards you for feeling such.?

A slight nodding of her head as he spoke truth of it, then turned her face a little to the side. Gratefulness was a kiss of lips against one of his palms and murmured a prayer of thanksgiving to him. Then she moved to draw back, to offer something in respect to distance. ?Is it wished to have the Forge cleaned now, master? It can be done by firelight or lamp.?

He shook his head. ?No, tonight it is dark. We have both had an eventful night. Unabashed, he offered a kind smile. ?You have done very well tonight.? His mouth opened and he hid a yawn behind his scarred hand.

?Tonight, will you rest?? Green eyes watched his scarred hand, and then lowered to the ground between her knees. She moved to pull back from him a little more to allow as much room as he might need for movement. Towards the bedding of furs and more she crawled with long spirals of auburn about her and enough to drag the floor as she lowered to rest at the foot of the master's bed.

?Aye. Tonight I think I shall.? Fingers deftly reached for the strings of his leather boots and untied them, loosening them and removing them from his feet. The cloth shirt worn was made of simple cotton cloth, and clung to his well defined body like a second skin. This he grasped by the hem and peeled it from his form. Beneath was sinew and muscle in a lithe build of perfectly displayed muscles beneath scar littered flesh. He pulled the blankets upon his bed over his form to cover himself.

Arm curled about the bedding of furs and her cheek rested to it. Silk did not cover all, but she was warm enough within the master's room and took comfort to be allowed to sleep where she was. She closed her eyes and listened for the sounds of him, of breathing or more until sleep took her and dreams were scattered.

With a lean he blew the candle out on his nightstand, plunging the room into darkness. No noise of his breaths arose as he plunged into slumber.