EXTRACT FOR
The Farm
(Fiaine Cluiun)

Julia kept silent as the soldier who'd brought her to the temple now led her through the corridors. They hadn't stopped to remove the plug and tail, but she doubted his orders allowed for even small pauses in their journey through the temple. That he'd stayed with her instead of being in charge of the men sent to collect Ashara surprised her from what she'd learned about the proud, dark-skinned woman. He'd bantered with her the first time, then when he'd come to collect her from Ashara the conversation between the pair had been tense, with a warning issued by Stephen.

Why didn't the man want to be there for Ashara's reckoning? 

Doors opened in front of them, closing behind them with a thump of metal and wood. Each new set of doors sealing her off from her life in the temple. Something that both terrified and thrilled her as the plug continued to work deep in her body, leaving her trembling and needful after her treatment by the second Inquisitor. She wanted to ask questions, to find out exactly what was going on, where she was being taken, but unless she had permission to speak she'd learned doing so would trigger a fresh punishment. 

With her body marked from the cat and the single tail, welts both raised and the flat ones turning into bruises, she had no desire to endure another beating. The only chance she had of avoiding that treatment was through perfect obedience. 

There's no such thing as perfect.

But she could try, she could strive for it as she had with the second Inquisitor. He'd taught her what was within the boundaries of acceptable when it came to obedience. Not a halfhearted or rapid attempt but brutal and undeniable. He hadn't let up until she was able to obey quickly and to the level that the one she served demanded, never less than what she'd given the second Inquisitor. 

She'd take that lesson through the rest of her life, unless she found a way to escape.

Light streamed through the final set of double doors as she was led out into the courtyard. Beyond it, through large, reinforced gates, a group of mounted men waited for them.

"This is the female the Inquisitors dared to keep to themselves?" A large man, not fat but muscled beneath the robes, spoke from the back of a large horse. Delicately embroidered tack spoke of wealth she'd never seen before, not even during the busiest of market days. She risked lifting her gaze enough to look at the man, then lowered it before he could see she'd dared to stare, however briefly, at the High Priest.

Others sat, waiting, on their horses with the only person on foot a woman in a simple tunic and peasant shoes - little more than circles cut from leather with holes poked through to create a pouch that was then, sometimes, stuffed with dried grass or hay to help cushion the wearer's feet. They didn't offer any real comfort but did provide a level of protection when walking that was better than traveling with bare feet. 

Those who couldn't afford proper shoes or boots managed with what they could find or make for themselves. 

And slaves were lucky if they were allowed even a shift to cover themselves.

"Yes, your grace. She was brought in eight days ago."

Eight days? How had she lost track of the time to that degree. Five, six days, that had been all she'd thought had passed since the day she'd been grabbed. Eight? Her mind reeled with the understanding she'd lost a part of herself in the process, and in losing time what else had been taken from her?

Everything.

No, she was still alive, still breathing, and she'd been found pleasing by the men who'd used her. It wasn't right to suggest she'd lost all of who she was when perhaps she'd found parts of her being she'd never known existed before being brought into the care of the Inquisitors. 

"This is the one who claims to be a healer?"

"Yes, your grace. She was practicing her craft without offering her skills to the temple, or even a local priest." Stephen rested a hand on her shoulder. "Position."

Julia dropped to her knees, folding her arms behind her back, thighs spread as she rested her buttocks on her heels. Her head lifted, chin up, gaze lowered, exactly the way the second Inquisitor had drummed into her. She didn't make a sound as she knelt, didn't protest the order that had been given, or the way she now knelt naked, in the dirt, in front of men on horseback. They didn't owe her anything, not even her life, but as long as she obeyed and kept position, she wasn't likely to be punished.

"I see she's learned the basics."

"The slave still has much to learn, there's only so much that can be taught in so brief a time, your grace."

"Are you questioning my right to take the females?"

"Of course not, your grace. I meant no harm." Stephen bowed, one hand over his heart. "If I offended you, I beg your forgiveness."

Beg? A man humbling himself? She took a slow, deep breath but didn't lift her gaze. She could see what Stephen was doing only because he was in front of her, and it wouldn't be safe to try and pay close attention to what happened between the two men.

Screams of rage and foul language filtered through from the temple. Anger, fury, curses and promises of retribution rang out, becoming clearer as Ashara was dragged into the courtyard then out beyond the temple confines. Ashara twisted, kicking, fighting the three men who struggled to escort her to the small group.