Dragon and Slave

CHAPTER 22

Jack cleared his throat as the Brummgas surrounded his chair. "Aren't you forgetting one small thing?" he asked.

Reluctantly, it seemed, Gazen turned back around to face him. "And that is...?"

"Her Thumbleness will be expecting me to play with her today," Jack said.

"She's likely to be upset if I don't turn up."

Gazen's eyes flicked to the Brummgas. "Her Thumbleness needs to learn she can't have everything she wants."

"Absolutely," Jack agreed. "But I wouldn't want to be the one who has to teach her that."

Gazen smiled thinly. "Don't worry about it," he said. "I can handle Her Thumbleness."

His eyes flicked to the Brummgas again. "The frying pan," he ordered again.

"Make it the full treatment."

The frying pan turned out to be a small metal shed tucked out of sight in a clump of bushes about fifty yards from the mansion's kitchen entrance.

Probably hidden, Jack thought cynically, so as not to disturb the more delicate members of the Chookoock family. Other than that, it looked pretty much like the regular hotboxes he'd become acquainted with over the past couple of weeks.

Uneasily, he wondered what extras Gazen had added to give it such an ominous name.

The answer came as the lead Brummga led the way around to the far side of the frying pan and levered up the door. The other hotboxes had been plain tin structures, with plain tin insides. This one, in contrast, was lined with a bright copper mesh, with horizontal and vertical wires carefully separated by thin black rubbery spacers.

The Brummgas shoved him inside and swung the door closed again. The lock clicked, and with a muttering of deep voices the aliens clumped their way back toward the main house. "I had wondered what was meant by the name frying pan,"

Draycos murmured when the footsteps had faded away. "These wires are electrical, correct?"

"Afraid so," Jack agreed grimly, searching the walls and ceiling for evidence of listening devices. There hadn't been any in the other hotboxes, but one so close to the main house might run under different rules.

An instant later he jerked violently as a jolt of current burned through him.

"Ow!"

"Are you injured?" Draycos asked anxiously.

"No, I'm just fine," Jack gritted out, his teeth clenched against the fresh waves of pain rolling through his body. The shock itself hadn't been all that painful, but it had reawakened all the nerve endings already scrubbed raw by Gazen's slapstick.

He wondered if Gazen had thought about that part before throwing him in here.

Odds were, he had.

"Jack—"

"No, it's okay," Jack reassured the dragon. "Really. If they wanted to kill me, there are easier ways."

"Nevertheless, it is clearly painful," Draycos said. "Move as far as you can to the side."

"You must be kidding," Jack said, looking around. Like the regular hotboxes, there wasn't enough spare room in here for a decent hamster cage. "Move to what side where?"

"Press your body against the right-hand wall," Draycos ordered, sliding around on Jack's back. "And raise the lower part of your shirt."

Another jolt sparked through the mesh. This time, Jack's spasming legs drove the back of his head against the ceiling. "Now; move quickly," Draycos said as the current shut off and Jack sagged back down. "Before it happens again."

"Sure," Jack muttered, tasting blood where his clenching teeth had caught the side of his tongue. Rolling partway onto his side, he pressed his chest against the wires and raised the back of his shirt.

Draycos lifted up from his lower back, squeezing himself into the remaining space. The sudden change in the number of occupants shoved Jack hard against the wall, forcing the side of his face up against the cold metal as well.

He closed his eyes, muscles tightening in anticipation and dread. If another shock came now, there would be nowhere for him to even twitch away to.

Draycos's own body would hold him against the mesh until the current knocked him unconscious.

Or else seriously burned him. Maybe even killed him.

Gazen would be very unhappy if that happened. Slaves of the Chookoock family were not supposed to do anything, not even die, without official permission.

The kind of permission Noy had been given this morning.

Abruptly, Draycos melted back onto Jack's skin. "What?" Jack demanded as the unexpected loss of pressure sent him rolling over onto his back.

"I have altered the wiring," the dragon said, a grim satisfaction in his voice.

"It will no longer send current through the mesh."

"Great," Jack growled. "At least, not until someone notices and sends out a repairman. Then they'll see what you've done, and wonder where I got any tools—"

"No one will come," Draycos interrupted him. "No one will notice. I have not simply connected the outer wires together, but have run them through a small piece of wood. If I have calculated correctly, the wood will indicate a similar level of electrical resistance as a human body."

Jack shook his head. "I have no idea what any of that means."

From below him came a sudden crackle of electricity. He tensed, but no shock stabbed into his skin. "It means," Draycos said as the crackling stopped,

"that any instruments they have attached to the system will show that it is still hurting you."

"Oh," Jack said. "Well... okay. Thanks."

"You are welcome."

For a minute neither of them spoke. Jack shifted around, trying to get comfortable. It was a futile task, as every move brought fresh agony to his muscles. But oddly enough, and rather to his own surprise, his thoughts weren't on his own aches and pains.

Instead, they were with Noy. He could practically see the younger boy's face floating in front of his eyes there in the gloom of the frying pan. He could hear his voice, too, cheerful but with a hidden defiance lurking beneath it.

Unlike Greb and Grib, Noy hadn't simply accepted his slavery as if it were just the way things had to be, even though he'd been born into it.

But then, Maerlynn had said something about his parents trying to escape once.

Maybe they'd managed to teach him about freedom before they'd died.

And now Noy was sick, stuck away somewhere in the isolation hut Gazen had ordered him tossed into. Sick, and weak, and hungry. Maybe dying.

All alone.

Another crackle came and went. "You are very quiet," Draycos said softly.

"Are you in pain?"

Jack's first impulse was to lie about it. Compassion had not exactly been at the top of Uncle Virgil's list of prized qualities. He'd considered it a sign of weakness, in fact, and had done his best to hammer that same way of thinking into Jack's skull. Since his death, it had been a task Uncle Virge had done his best to continue.

But Jack was getting tired of that kind of life. He was also getting tired of lying. "I was thinking about Noy," he told Draycos. "Wondering how he was doing."

For a moment the dragon was silent. Automatically, Jack braced himself for the scorn and ridicule that would have come instantly from either version of his uncle. "His situation did not sound good," Draycos agreed. "Do you think there is anything we can do for him?"

"It could be dangerous," Jack warned. "You game to give it a try?"

"Absolutely," Draycos said, sounding vaguely insulted. "Did you have any doubt?"

Jack smiled. The K'da warrior ethic. "No, not really," he said.

"Good," Draycos said firmly. "What is your plan?"

"Come on, give me a break," Jack protested. "I just started thinking about this.

You expect me to have a plan already?"

"Of course not," the dragon murmured. "Forgive me."

"But I'm working on it," Jack assured him, wincing as he shifted aching shoulders again. "Gazen sure is a fun person to have around, isn't he?"

"In my opinion, he is mentally unstable," Draycos said firmly. "But one thing still bothers me."

"Only one?"

"The Daughters of Harriet Tubman," Draycos went on, ignoring the comment. "If Gazen dislikes them so much, why does he tolerate their presence near Chookoock family property?"

"Mainly, because he hasn't got a choice," Jack said. "Remember the rest of the sign? 'Internos Consular Adjunct.' The consular part means the place is part of the Internos diplomatic system. I don't know how the Tubman Group managed that one."

"And the Internos would be upset if the Brummgas threw them out?"

Jack shook his head. "You don't get it. Foreign embassies are considered the property of that particular nation or government. By being a consular station, the Tubman house is basically a small chunk of Internos territory on Brum-a-dum.

Internos law applies there, not the Brummgan versions."

"Interesting," Draycos said thoughtfully. "How is it you know all this? Is it common knowledge?"

"It's common enough," Jack said. "I know it mostly because Uncle Virgil once did a scam that depended on how diplomatic privilege works."

"So you are saying that an attempt to move the Tubman Group out could be considered the same as an invasion?"

"The diplomats would probably find nicer-sounding words," Jack said. "But, yeah, that's what it boils down to. Gazen can hate it all he wants, but there's not a

grease-stained thing he can do about it."

"An interesting system," Draycos said. "And this applies to government and diplomatic stations throughout the Orion Arm?"

"Pretty much," Jack said. "It's at least as old as pre-space Earth politics.

The idea is that everyone wants their diplomats to be as secure as possible.

Sometimes they're the only ones who can keep two sides from stumbling into a war."

"But only when neither side actually desires that war," Draycos said grimly.

"The Valahgua—" He broke off. "Someone is coming."

Jack tensed. Maybe Draycos's little rewiring job hadn't been quite as undetectable as he'd thought. He could feel the ground shaking beneath Brummgan feet...

There was the click of a key in the lock, and abruptly the door was thrown open.

"You," a Brummgan voice said. "Out."

"What?" Jack asked, squinting against the blaze of sunlight and blue sky behind the broad shoulders.

"I said out," the Brummga grunted, reaching in and grabbing the front of Jack's harlequin shirt. "Her Thumbleness wants you."

The Brummga wasn't particularly gentle, and in the process of getting Jack out of the frying pan he managed to restart at least a dozen of his collection of aches. Even so, Jack found himself grinning inside as he was marched back across the lawn toward the kitchen door.

So he'd been right. Her Thumbleness had found him missing, had thrown the predictable tantrum, and Gazen had been forced to give him back to her.

So much for the slavemaster and his threats.

The feeling of satisfaction lasted all the way up to Her Thumbleness's room.

It was there as she loftily ordered the guards out and then told Jack to juggle for her. It even lasted until he picked up the small fruits he'd been using to juggle with.

It wasn't until the first one slipped from numbed fingers that his inner smile vanished.

"Shaak ri'hin mree ka'chu," Her Thumbleness growled.

Jack's comm clip was still hidden in his shoe, which meant no instant translation from Uncle Virge. But it didn't take a genius to tell that she was annoyed. "Yes, ma'am," he said, hastily stooping down and retrieving the fruit.

Again, he got them set up to juggle.

And again his fingers refused to cooperate. The repeated hits with Gazen's slapstick, plus the additional shocks from the frying pan, had left his muscles too drained and twitchy to handle delicate maneuvers.

And with a sinking feeling, he realized Gazen had known exactly what he was doing. Including how to handle Her Thumbleness and her tantrums.

This second failure earned him an impatient kick that sent him sprawling across the room. "Maybe we could try a trick instead?" Jack suggested, stifling a groan as he picked himself up off the floor.

He wasn't even quite vertical yet when a slap against his shoulder knocked him over again. "Wait!" he pleaded, blinking back stars as the back of his head hit the floor. "Please. Just give me a minute."

He might as well have asked storm clouds to stop raining. Her Thumbleness wasn't interested in waiting. She wasn't interested in anything but getting what she wanted, when she wanted it, and exactly the way she wanted it.

And in the age-old manner of careless and spoiled children everywhere, she was going to fix her broken toy by beating it until it started working again.

Howling in frustration, she charged.

Jack did his best to fend off the flailing hands and feet. But Her Thumbleness was too enraged, and too big. Another kick got through, this one landing in his lower rib cage. He gasped for air, spinning helplessly as two more slaps bounced off his shoulders.

And then, suddenly, he caught a glimpse of a huge hand sweeping toward the side of his head. He tried to get his arm up in time to block it, or to at least absorb some of its impact.

But he didn't make it. An instant later, the world went dark.