Prologue

Lerrin watched as the slightly built woman left his office, her long auburn ponytail bobbing behind her, and the worn leather satchel carefully cradled to her side. The girl, he believed her name was Ellywick, was a recent hire of the Arcane Brotherhood, and utterly forgettable save for the fact that she was a gnome in a city primarily dominated by humans. He’d learned that she’d earned her job as a messenger through relentless persistence. Before she was hired, she’d arrived on the steps of the Wizards’ Tower every morning when the other couriers were dispatched, listening to where they were going, and consistently arriving earlier than whichever one was sent to the furthest destination in the city. She was pretty enough, he supposed, in the pixy-ish way of her race, standing somewhere less than four feet tall though proportional to a slender human, unlike the squat dwarves. She had deeply tanned skin and delicate features, though he found her to be nothing remarkable. If she had any feature that stood out, it was her vibrant green eyes, wide and doe-like.

And yet, for all of her simplicity, this waif was the key to Lerrin finally achieving his ultimate goal. Through painstaking use of Augury, after so many doors had been closed to him, he’d learned that it was this young messenger that could unlock the way to his dreams. He’d hired assassins, tried poisons and potions, and weaved curses to no end; all to no avail. So now, he put his faith in the result of his magical inquiries.

And now it was done. This cryptic plan, the costly result of so many castings of such powerful magic, was set into motion. He wondered, for a moment, what lay in store for the naïve messenger as he watched her close the door behind her, but then turned his thoughts to more engaging the more engaging matter of his future. Nothing and no one would stand in his way now.


Chapter One

Ellywick cursed softly as another oafish human collided with her, nearly causing her to drop the sealed letter she carried as she worked her way through the bustling crowd. Making it through the gathered throng of petitioners in the palace courtyard was always the most challenging part of her daily route from the Wizards’ Tower to the Arcane Academy on the other side of town, and today was no exception. Being a gnome in a human city, almost two feet shorter than its average inhabitant, was challenge enough on its own; a constant blend of mocking jibes, being treated like a child, and getting knocked to the ground when they didn’t see her. Forcing her way past the desperate men seeking an audience with the Baron, each sincerely believing his problems to be more pressing than everyone else’s, made her life all the harder.

But still, she’d come to embrace the advantages that her slender build and gnomish grace gave her in the city. She could make her way through crowds more quickly and easily than its common inhabitants, who rarely paid her any mind. It was that ease of travel that had resulted in her current employment with the Arcane Brotherhood, delivering messages and other goods between its many buildings and towers. It wasn’t the dreamy life she’d imagined for herself when she’d struck out on her own and moved to the city, but they fed her and kept a roof over her head, and paid her enough that she could begin saving toward the life she dreamed of. Reassuringly, she patted the little bulge of her coin-purse where it was pressed between her thigh and soft woolen leggings. It wasn’t enough yet, but it was a beginning. In time, it would be her admission to the Academy itself.

At long last, she pushed her way past the edge of the crowd and into the winding alley that weaved between the guild halls. The cacophony of the courtyard was replaced by almost perfect silence, save for the sounds of her soft leather boots on the stone street. At this time of morning, the guild district was always abandoned, its members either jockeying for position to air their grievances in the courtyard or hawking their wares in the Market Square. She picked up her pace, feeling as though a weight had been lifted from her shoulders as she left the crowd behind and followed the familiar path between the impressive buildings.

“Veknara Endashi Ohklamm” A man’s voice suddenly began speaking from the shaded entryway of one of the buildings.

The words themselves were meaningless to Ellywick. But from her many hours spent listening in as the Academy students practiced, she recognized the pattern of speech and the intonation as that of a spell being cast. A quizzical expression on her face, she turned just in time to see a young, blond man step from the shadows, wearing the formal robes of an initiate of the Arcane Brotherhood. She took a half-step back, more confused than afraid, as he lifted his cupped hands to his lips and then blew out across them, sending a fluttering cloud of rose petals out to swirl in the air around her.

The magical energy of the cloud seeped into Ellywick almost instantly. She opened her mouth to speak, but was consumed by an overwhelming need to sleep before she could utter a word. The sealed missive fluttered from her hand to join the softly falling flower petals as she fell abruptly to her knees. Struggling to keep her eyes open, she tried to focus on the initiate as he approached, watching through her shrinking field of vision as he uncoiled a tasseled, rope-like belt from around his waist. She recognized the magic as a sleep spell, one of the basic spells taught to initiates, though this knowledge did not help her to resist its effects or to understand why it was being cast upon her. Her mind reeling, she sprawled forward onto her stomach, unable to remain kneeling or to keep her eyes open any longer as she succumbed fully to the magical slumber.


Chapter Two

Tesloke Arginhane, Headmaster of the Arcane Academy, made the finishing touch to the last spell, and the symbol that he’d carefully carved into the wooden frame of the doorway began to pulse with magical energy. His work done, he stepped into the room to take in the sight of this sanctuary that he’d spent weeks preparing. He wanted it to be perfect for this momentous day. No, he needed it to be perfect.

Grinning broadly, he crossed to the center of the room and lifted one of the smooth bands of silvery metal from where it rested on the base of a stone pedestal, running his fingers along its etching. The metal was light and yet stronger than steel and remained cool to the touch regardless of the temperature of the room. A tremor of excitement ran down his spine in anticipation of what was to come. Placing his delightful creation back on the pedestal, he turned to stride from the room, his long robes billowing about him as he walked.

“Garith!” He called out, too loudly, for his loyal manservant had already fallen into step alongside him.

“Yes, Headmaster?” The old, stooped servant asked respectfully.

“Ready my carriage.” The wizard ordered.

“Yes, Headmaster.” Garith quickly replied before asking. “For a long or short voyage?”

“A short one.” Tesloke answered crisply. “We’re going into the city.”


Chapter Three

Ellywick began to wake, her mind fuzzy, as she felt something or someone come down on her back, pressing her into the cobbled stones of the street. She shook her head slowly to try and clear it, her cheek brushing against the cool stone beneath her. She was lying on her stomach with her hands by her sides. She tried to rise, but the weight on her back kept her in place. Turning her head and craning her neck, she saw that the initiate was sitting on her, and holding the tasseled rope that had been his belt.

“Ekru Dentalla Osctrictor” The initiate droned in that familiar magical tone, and then he dropped the belt onto her left hand before speaking in a normal tone. “Tie and knot.”

The pinned girl gasped as she felt the belt spring to life, wrapping quickly and tightly around her wrist. While the first end continued to coil around its captured wrist, the other lashed out, whip-like, toward her free hand. Ellywick tried to pull away, too slowly, and felt it strike, enwrapping that wrist as well, and then beginning to slowly draw her two hands toward each other behind her back. She fought desperately against the inexorable pull of the ensorcelled rope, squirming and kicking beneath the weight of the initiate.

“No! Stop!” Elly cried out, feeling the sole of her boot connect with the man’s lower back, and then hearing his grunt. “What are you doing?!”

“Ashium Akkora Darsh!” The initiate hissed angrily, and she felt him pinch her thigh wickedly as he incanted the new spell.

Elly took in a sharp gasp of breath at the pinch, and a tiny piece of wool, stolen from her leggings by his fingers and propelled by the magic of his spell, found its way in with the much-needed air. She choked on it, dazed, as it seemed to expand in her airway for a moment. Taking advantage of the moment of confusion afforded him by this minor magic, the initiate grabbed her long ponytail and yanked back fiercely, lifting her face up off the ground. Before she could react or fully recover from his spell, he thrust a thick piece of rough wood between her teeth, forcing her jaws open wide and then tying it in place with leather straps behind her head.

Ellywick shook off the effects of the dazing magic, panic welling inside her, just in time for her world to plunge into darkness as a rough bag was thrust over her head. She screamed into the wooden gag in her mouth, barely recognizing the primal, animalistic sound of her own voice, muffled and distorted as it was by the wood and the bag. The magical rope on her hands finished its work as she struggled futilely, wrists crossed behind her now and wrapped in coil after coil of the former belt. She felt another rope go tight around her neck, holding the bag in place, and then the weight of her attacker leaving her back.

Moving quickly, she turned onto her back and then used her bound hands to thrust herself gracefully up onto her feet. She’d only taken her first step, however, when the rope around her throat suddenly tightened and brought her up short, choking. She nearly tripped as the initiate abruptly yanked on that rope leash, pulling her back to his side.

“We have an appointment with the Magistrate.” He spoke firmly, drawing her up onto the toes of her boots with an upward pull of the leash. “You don’t want to keep the authorities waiting, do you?”

Ellywick’s mind raced. The Magistrate? Was this some sort of misunderstanding, then? She sensed him moving away from her, heard the soft whisper of his robes, and then felt the tug of the rope on her neck, quickly drawing her into step behind him. Walking blind was a terrifying and disorienting experience, and she struggled to stay close to her captor, her shorter legs moving briskly to match the quick pace he set. While she walked, she alternated between trying to slip her wrists free of the rope that bound them, and straining to reach its knots with her slender fingers. Each proved equally as ineffective.

Without warning, the initiate-turned-captor stopped, and she grunted into the gag as she ran into his back. She heard the sound of a heavy door creaking open, and then felt herself drawn into the room beyond. Even behind the face-covering bag, she could see the world grow darker as the door closed ominously. Her belly fluttered nervously as his hand came to rest on it through her light linen blouse. He slipped a pair of his fingers through the openings between the buttons that ran down the front of it to press directly into her flesh beneath, and then pushed her backwards until she came up against a stone wall.

Ellywick heard the rustling of robes again, and then whined into the wooden gag as it was followed by the rattling of heavy chain. Something pressed against her booted right ankle, and then there was the ominous click of a lock.

“These are a little big for you, messenger girl.” The initiate chuckled from where she now realized he squatted or kneeled before her. “I guess they don’t get too many gnomish prisoners here. I bet your little foot could just slip right out of this manacle.”

Recognizing where he was by the sound of his voice, she considered kicking him while he lifted her foot off the floor. Bound and hooded as she was, though, she resisted the temptation. She felt the heavy cuff fall away from her foot as it left the ground.

“They don’t have any smaller ones.” He spoke softly. “But they do have larger.”

Placing her foot back on the floor, Elly felt him adjusting her stance so that her feet were together. There was another rattle of chain, and then she felt the press of a new cuff around both of her boots, just above her ankle bones. She heard him grunt with the effort of closing and locking the thing, and cried out into the gag in her mouth, sputtering inside the hot bag, as the metal pressed painfully into her flesh through the supple leather of the boots.

“There!” Her captor proclaimed as the lock finally clicked into place, and she was left to stand awkwardly with her feet pressed together. “A perfect fit.”

She panted hard through her nose, biting down hard on the wooden rod in her mouth, as she felt his hands slowly begin to work their way up her legs. He explored her with his fingers through the soft wool that sheathed her, tracing the shape of her slender calves, around her knees and then along the line of her thighs. She hated the touch of him, and pressed herself back into the wall in a vain attempt to avoid his caress. She tensed suddenly as his hands made contact with the coin-purse hidden beneath her leggings.

“Well, what have we here?” He whispered, a smile evident in the sound of his voice.

She cursed at him violently, the gag rendering her angry words incomprehensible, as she felt his hand slip up under the hem of her tunic, and then down into her leggings. As much as she despised the touch of his hand to the bare flesh of her thigh beneath the hose, it paled in comparison to the violation she felt as she heard the jingling sound of her hard-earned coins being emptied into his hand.

“Isn’t that just an added bonus?” He whispered cruelly as he withdrew his hand, smoothed her leggings and tunic back into place, and then gave the now-empty coin-purse a little pat. “Now, just wait right here while I let the Magistrate know you’re here.”

Ellywick struggled to control herself as she heard him walking away, and then his passage through another door. She tried, unsuccessfully once more, to find the knots of the rope that bound her wrists, though she had even less hope of escape with her feet bound so tightly together. She tried to remain calm as she waited; focusing on the hope that she would have some answers soon.


Chapter Four

Magistrate Quirm sighed softly as a knock on the door of his inner chambers drew his attention away from the half-finished painting before him. It was just as well that he was interrupted, he thought, since he had been standing with brush poised over the unfolding woodland grove for too long with adding a single stroke to it. Somewhere, he’d lost his inspiration for this particular piece.

“Come in.” He answered the knock, replacing the brush in its pot, and turning to walk to his desk.

The door opened, and a young man entered. There was a flush of excitement about the visitor, an initiate of the Arcane Brotherhood by his robes, as he came to stand before the Magistrate’s desk, and waited impatiently for the Magistrate to take his seat.

“How can I help the Brotherhood, initiate?” Quirm asked, easing himself into his chair and then looking up at the younger man.

“We have a thief to be sentenced, you honor.” The initiate responded quickly.

“Then contact the constable’s office.” The Magistrate shook his head. “Surely there isn’t any need for my involvement now.”

“The Brotherhood wishes for this particular thief to be dealt with expeditiously, your honor.” The initiate smiled. “There is a need to avoid some embarrassment.”

Still smiling wolfishly, the visitor removed a small pouch from his belt. He placed it on the desk before the Magistrate, and it came to rest there with a soft, metallic jingle. Quirm now understood why the young man was in his office. His ‘agreement’ with the Brotherhood was once more being called up. It made him feel small and weak, seemingly obliterating every bit of good that he’d ever managed to accomplish in this dark world, every time they used his power to do their dirty work. But he’d sold his soul far too many times to turn down their gold now.

“Very well.” He nodded, opening a drawer to withdraw a sentencing order and sweep the coin-purse inside. “What sentence does the Brotherhood recommend for the offender?”

It made the Magistrate feel better to get the bribe out of sight, and to use the word ‘recommend’, even though he knew that ‘require’ or ‘demand’ would have been the more appropriate term. Dipping the tip of his quill into his inkpot, he prepared to write.

“The Brotherhood feels that this transgressor should be sold into slavery, your honor.” The initiate finally spoke, evenly, as if her were recommended a particular variety of wine.

“Slavery?” Quirm responded quickly, his eyes narrowing. “That is a harsh punishment for theft. Are you sure that you heard your superiors correctly?”

“Absolutely certain, your honor.” The initiate answered, nodding. “In fact, they went on to say how important it was to them that this offender be offered on the block this afternoon.”

“This afternoon?” Quirm gasped in exasperation. “Why not yesterday’s, then? Young man, that is impossible. Those to be sold today were sent yesterday for preparation. It is inconceivable that another be added today.”

“The Brotherhood recognizes the extra difficulty inherent in this request.” The young man spoke slyly, placing another pouch of coins on the desk. “They remain confident, however, that you will be able to facilitate it.”

Quirm felt as though a part of himself was dying as he slipped the second bribe into the drawer with the first. Damn the Brotherhood. Damn himself for giving in to their demands. But still, he began to write.

“You will have to bring him to the auction yourself, then. I will date the conviction for yesterday, and mark the offender myself.” The Magistrate explained as he filled out the document, glad to have an excuse not to make eye contact.

“Yes, your honor.” The initiate replied, as if he had expected exactly that. “I am happy to aid the administration of your justice in whatever way I can. I will bring her there personally.”

“When you arrive, you will have to explain that he – that she, rather, escaped yesterday, in order to make sense of the late arrival.” He winced, barely visibly, as he spoke, trying to imagine that he actually did administer some form of justice, and wondering what she had done to deserve such a fate. “You re-captured her today, of course, and are delivering her personally.”

“Of course.” The initiate responded, and Quirm saw that he was grinning broadly when he finished placing his seal on the document and looked up.

“Is she here?” The Magistrate asked, rising and picking up his rod of office.

“Yes, your honor. In the holding cell.”

The Magistrate swept from the room without another word, anxious to put this ordeal behind him. As he walked down the short hall, he wondered again what this one might have done to deserve such ire. The Brotherhood was a positive force in the city, he told himself, and tried to make himself believe that any enemy of theirs must be worthy of their fate.

Quirm’s stomach dropped when he reached the holding cell and saw its prisoner. The slender figure lay on the cold stone floor with her back to the Magistrate as he entered. He could see her little hands, balled into tight fists, as she fought desperately to free them from the tight rope that bound them together behind her back. There was a loud rattling of chain as she suddenly yanked with both feet against the heavy shackle that enclosed them both in its iron grip. The single fetter that held both her feet made the struggling captive look impossibly small by comparison. As she turned over in her unyielding bonds on the floor, she emitted a pathetic, mewling sound, and he looked to find her face, but found only a dark bag that enclosed her head.

“Are you daft, initiate?” The Magistrate gasped in horror. “She’s but a child. I can’t sentence a child to slavery, thief or not. Brotherhood or not.”

“No, wait!” The initiate blurted out, moving quickly to kneel down next to the prisoner. “Do not let her size fool you. She is a full grown woman. Look more closely!”

With one hand on her hip to steady her, the initiate abruptly lifted the front of the captive’s blouse to bare her upper body, a pair of its lower buttons falling open. The Magistrate’s eyes, moving almost of their own accord, followed the line of the girl’s bare hip as it was revealed by the rapidly receding hem of her top, until her firm, round breasts fell free. Petite she was, but there was no doubt in Quirm’s mind now that she was a woman.

“Cover her, you cur.” The Magistrate spat, taking a step closer. “And remove that covering from her head.”

The woman grew still save for her breathing as her blouse was pulled back into place. Though covered now, the image of her body was etched into the Magistrate’s mind’s eye. The initiate looked up with a sour expression.

“Your honor, my directions were quite explicit.” He began. “I don’t think –“

“I don’t care what you think.” The Magistrate interrupted. “If you don’t remove that let me see her face, I will not sentence her.”

Nodding once, eyes narrowed, the initiate untied the rope from around the girl’s slender throat, and then pulled the bag free. Quirm felt his heart stop in his chest as the woman’s face was revealed to him. Though her lips and expression were distorted by the thick wooden bit that pressed between her teeth, and strands of auburn hair were plastered with drool and tears to her cheeks, he felt he’d never seen such beauty before as he saw in her face.

“She’s gnomish.” The Magistrate spoke softly, tearing his own eyes away from the deep, wide, emerald orbs of the captive lest he lose himself in them forever; staring instead at the pointed tips of her ears.

“Yes, she is.” The initiate answered quickly. “Now, sentence her please, so that I can make it to the auction in time.”

Feeling hollow, the room seeming to shrink around him, the Magistrate stepped forward. The world around him seemed entirely out of his control, as though it was made of paper, and he were falling through it. So, he concentrated on the task before him as his only anchor to solid ground. Lifting his rod of office, he took a deep breath.

“By the power vested in me by Baron Faelin of the city-state of Koets, I find you guilty of the charge of theft.” Quirm spoke slowly and deliberately, bringing the end of the rod down once on the stone floor as the girl shook her head desperately in denial. “For this crime, I sentence you to be sold by auction into slavery, until such time as you earn your freedom.”

The bound girl’s eyes went wide at the proclamation, and she began to fight against her bonds in earnest once more. Lifting the rod, the Magistrate called up his magic, and carefully spoke his incantation.

“Fetar Occlum Socclum” Quirm spoke, and the end of the rod began to glow with a dim red light. “Bare her flank, initiate.”

The Magistrate watched as the young initiate turned the girl slightly forward, and then lifted her blouse to bare her left hip. She began to cry, her eyes squeezed tightly shut, as his fingers moved to drawn down the waistline of her woolen leggings to bare the side of her smooth, firm ass. The Magistrate tried to convince himself that he couldn’t understand her desperate, sobbing pleas for mercy, distorted as they were by the wooden bit.

“Let this mark serve as proof to all who see it as your status as both criminal of the city-state of Koets until such time as you are sold.” The Magistrate spoke, place the glowing tip of the rod against her body, where the glow flowed into her until her flank was marked with the symbol of the Baron’s coat of arms. “Now, get her from my sight.”