None of this was cheap, but she had almost unlimited resources and she was damned if she’d let that horrible Mistress Crueltongue keep on murdering people, Lexi told herself.
Still, as satisfying as the work was, she found herself missing her cozy little bakery. It had been months now since she’d left Zetta Prime and though she kept in touch with her assistant Grettah and knew that everything was being run well in her absence, Lexi missed the smell of baking bread and the feeling of dough under her fingers.
If only I could find a way to shut that horrible bitch down forever, I could go home, she thought longingly, as she picked her way along the dirty street, towards the biggest slave market. She was tired of living here in this big, ugly city filled with narcissistic sadists like Mistress Crueltongue—which most of the Yonnite Mistresses seemed to be.
Of course, the obvious solution was to simply shut down the Diluthian mines, but though Lexi had made roundabout bids through a third-party agent in an effort to acquire the “Death Mines” as they were called, Mistress Crueltongue had steadfastly refused any and all offers. Apparently the mines had been in her family for generations, handed down from mother to daughter, and she wasn’t about to let them go, no matter how much money she was offered.
Lexi’s next thought had been to go to the Sacred Seven and try to get some legislation passed to protect the hapless bodyslaves. If she could make it illegal to use them as labor in the mines, that would be almost as good as shutting the mines down. After all, there were mining robots that could do the work easily—but they cost a lot to buy and maintain and Mistress Crueltongue wasn’t going to use them unless she was forced to. She much preferred the cheap labor she got from the used bodyslaves.
But though her Great Aunt Granipants had apparently had the “Ear of the Council” and she had heard the new Sacred Seven who had recently been elected were very fair minded, Lexi was finding it impossible to get an audience with them at all. They always seemed to be too busy to consider her legislation or even to meet and speak with her, even though she was now richer than the Goddess herself.
Lexi thought this probably had something to do with the fact that she refused to dress like the Yonnite Mistresses or own a bodyslave like they did. But she didn’t feel like she ought to have to parade around half-naked and subjugate some poor male in order to effect meaningful legislation! It was incredibly frustrating.
So, frustrated though not defeated, Lexi kept going every Market Day to the Down Market district. Of course, she could have hired someone to come scour the markets for slaves—it wasn’t the safest place, even in broad daylight—and she’d taken to bringing a stunner with her just in case. But she was too stubborn to give up or let someone else do it for her. She had a personal vendetta against the evil Mistress Crueltongue by now and she wasn’t about to let the other woman continue hurting helpless males.
She wasn’t going to let that bitch win—she would do whatever it took to stop her. Even if it meant she never got to see her cozy bakery again, she thought with a sigh.
Lexi had no idea how soon her determination would be tested in ways she never could have imagined or how far she would have to go in order to keep her resolution…
FOUR
“Water,” Bound croaked, his deep voice hoarse. “Please…so thirsty.”
“Shh—I’ll get you some, Brother,” Gaze promised him. He wasn’t in much better shape himself but Bound had been wounded badly during their capture and had lost a lot of blood.
Carefully, he placed his brother’s head—which had been resting on his knee—on the crude pillow he had fashioned from a bit of cloth sacking he’d managed to scavenge. It was the only soft thing in this place, which was a flat yard paved with stained gray stones and ringed around with razor wire.
The Horvath guards—lizard-like beings who served as mercenaries wherever the credit was good—hissed at him warningly as he approached the edge of the large enclosure, which was empty except for him and his brother. The guards all stood up straighter and put their hands on their blasters, giving him warning looks from their slitted yellow eyes.
“Oh, come on,” Gaze growled at them. “What do you think I’m going to do? You’ve stripped me of my weapons and my brother is wounded—I wouldn’t leave without him!”
“You won’t be leaving at all, Kindred,” the nearest Horvath guard hissed, his forked tongue flickering out menacingly. “Ssstay back from the fence!”
“I just need some water!” Gaze said, glaring at him. “Please—he’s going to die if he doesn’t get a drink.”