Born a Monster - Chapter 508

508 Grounded

“So what you mean to say,” I said, “is that I am grounded, much like a child might.”

“If you care to think of it in those terms, I cannot stop you.” Venkatar replied.

“But you are getting your own tent.” Ziza said, “And free guards.”

“Whose purpose…” I began, but yielded to Venkatar’s raised hand.

“Our khan has decided to ransom you for the equivalent of sixty camels.” he said. “No doubt he means to barter and dicker.” He sighed. “Or he means for me to do it.”

Amari snorted. “When was the last time he let you do that? Be glad he is sending messages by bird back and forth, and not going himself.”

I rubbed my eyes. “Rakkal will never pay that much for me. Please consider… wait. The khan is in contact?”

“Yes.” Venkatar said.

“By bird?” I asked.

…..

“What is your alien mind thinking of now?” he asked.

“How do these birds find him?” I asked.

“The messenger pigeons of our land can home in on enchanted lodestones, at a range of hundreds of miles.”

“How many hundreds of miles?” I asked.

“Oh, from here to your southern coast, easily.” he said.

I let out a breath and relaxed. “Then it is possible the camp is in less danger than I expected.”

He smirked. “From your owner, Rakkal? By the time he could bring an army here, our scouts would have found him. All of our reports put him in the lands south of Fallen Hattan. We are in far more danger from Sulwei the Brown.”

“Sulwei is still your brother, my husband.” Amari said.

“You should try writing to him again.” Ziza said.

Venkatar shot her a dirty look. “I’d sooner write to the king of Furdia that my eldest daughter wants to join the royal theater.”

“But I don’t!” came a loud protest from the children’s side of the tent.

“Good children are quiet when they should be asleep.” Ziza sang out.

“Yes, second mother.” the child replied.

“Bad childhood?” I asked.

Ziza and Amari signed covertly to stop, but it was too late.

“Sulwei…” Venkatar said, “Sulwei wants all that is mine. Maybe not the children. Children who will NOT be sent off to Furdia if they behave well.”

“Thank you, father.”

“I love you, little rosebud, but there is much cooking to be done tomorrow. Remember, our khan has promised a feast of three days.”

Amiri rubbed a burn on her left wrist. “We should make him wash the pots, then.” she muttered.

Venkatar looked at me. “How much would you complain if we made you wash pots?”

“I guess… I probably wouldn’t?” I said. “I mean, when some prisoners are…”

“Hsst!” went Ziza. “Not where the children can hear. Our poor dreamcatcher is overworked as it is.”

Venkatar cleared his throat. “Sulwei… has also earned the trust of our khan.” he continued. “He is in charge of the camps between our homeland and here, and the foot guard to keep the redskins honest.”

I blinked. “I thought the Kamajeen valued mobility, riders.”

“Indeed.” Venkatar said. “And yet Sulwei sends all his riders here. I… I have not told the khan this, but I know he suspects.”

“Which the khan doesn’t ask specifically because he would be compelled to send them back to guard the north.” I said. “An insult to the riders to send them home, and to Sulwei to return a gift.”

“Speaking of gifts…” Ziza said.

Amiri sighed. “We agreed never to speak of it.”

“And yet, you have it.” Venkatar said.

“I am hoping to pass it on to the children, when they grow old enough.”

I must have looked confused.

“Would you like to see it?” Amiri asked me.

I squinted my eyes. “Is it something inappropriate for a guest to see?”

“Oh, no, not at all. And perhaps viewing it will tell you something of Sulwei.” she said. She rooted about in a footlocker, and pulled forth a glittering red waist-sash (roughly two cloth belts worth). “He claims to have made it himself.” she said, displaying it across the table.

[Blood silk belt.] my reticule advised. [Nutrition 6 per serving, eight servings in size. Durability 5, condition rating 3: 30/30 remain.]

“Durability five?” I asked. “This could be worn as armor!”

“Look at the enchantments.” Ziza said.

“Spirits of slumber, sleep, and dream.” I chanted. “It is I, Rhishisikk, Dreamwalker and Shaman. Please loan me your vision, show me what exists between the worlds. Mystic Vision.”

“This is… This is blood magic.” I said. “Fertility, yes, but the lust increase, the orgasm intensifier? This is not a garment one should give to another man’s wife.”

Venkatar looked like a criminal proven innocent by lack of evidence.

Amiri… her face was red, but not flush with anger. “This I have told him. But there is no slave making, no emotional manipulation?”

I looked the enchantments over again. “None that I can see, but the sheer rank of the enchantments… Whomever actually wears this is hardly going to be in charge of themselves.”

Venkatar slapped his knees. “All the more credit to Amiri, then.”

“Is there a story there?” I asked.

“Not one fit for the ears of children.” Ziza said. “Maybe later tonight.” she whispered.

“Sworn. To. Secrecy.” Amiri said.

“And,” Venkatar said, “our guest needs to go set up his own tent, where he is sleeping tonight.”

“In the dark?” Ziza asked. “Is that not unusually cruel?”

“Worry not.” I said. “Do you remember how I lacked even eyeballs when I first arrived? Some things can be done without sight.”

Oh, to be sure, it looked horrid in the morning, but there was moonlight enough for what I had to do.

Now, some of you might consider the following act a breach of hospitality. Still, I was a prisoner, and the khan HAD gouged out my eyes.

Remember how I had specifically called for Dream mana to look a the enchanted item? There were side effects, such as being able to recognize an enchanter or enchantress for [Lucid Dreaming].

With a flick of will and an ability activation, I was cascading through the dream space toward him. Sulwei was indulging in the sort of creatively adult activities that some consider perverse, and most adults never talk about. I looked about the faces, but recognized none of them.

Do NOT scroll your reticule over another’s dream. Not unless you truly want answers. In this case, they were answers that I wasn’t prepared to know about another person.

“Bleh.” I said, as multiple sin ratings bounced from my sin armor.

One of the guards, a female, cracked a whip near my ear. “Master.” she said. “This one is an intruder.”

Sulwei snorted. “Another curious spirit. Anally rape him and dump him outside.”

“That won’t end the way you expect it to.” I tried to warn him.

My Charisma at the time was rating three. Add to this the mere two from [Jaws of Wrath], and my strike was rating five. But add in my Wrath rating… I didn’t even need the yellow critical that I scored. Even her whip wasn’t in one piece.

The other guards decided this wasn’t their time to leap forward and repel an invader.

“My name,” I said, “is Rhishisikk. I am Shaman and Dreamwalker and Truthspeaker, and I literally cannot lie to you.”

“My name,” he said, “is Sulwei ibn…”

“You’ve already worn through what patience I have.” I said. “I don’t care what your name is, nor your blood lineage.”

He curled his upper lip at me. “I make no apologies for your simpering morality. YOU came into MY dream, you judge all you want.”

I took in a breath, but let it out slowly. “You are… correct.” I said. “This is not about your… unique desires.”

He flapped a hand at me. “Be about it, then. I’ve young girls to discipline. Adults, too. Why ARE you here, and why now?”

“Please permit me to answer those questions in reverse. It is easier for me to speak to you while we both sleep. As for why I am here… what if you could get a week’s worth of supplies for six thousand people?”

“The redskins? They made my khan weep openly, slaying his relative like that. But I am not going to defy his will by striking their caravan.”

I looked left, then right. “This is not the dreamscape of one bound by order and law. What if you knew exactly where the caravan was, and when?”

He spat in my face without it crossing the distance between us, because dream logic.

“Is that clear enough answer for you, demon beast? I am not Heran of the Julewa, who even now is looking about our lands for anything to steal.”

I managed not to exude my emotions all over. “Heran of the Julewa?” I asked. “Tell me of him, and I’ll leave you to your dreams in peace.”

…..

He did no such thing, and berated me until I left his dreaming.

Heran of the Julewa.

Just a name to me, but I had a name. The rest was just a matter of finding whom to ask.

Which, technically, I let him do. So the wheel of blame spins round and round and round, with no beginning or end.