Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Murder Isle - Part Two - by Mack the Knife

   Siska awoke with the sun in her eyes and leaped from the bed, a look of
panic crossing onto her face until she looked about, blinking.  She then
recalled where she was and what was happening and smiled.  Her sky blue
robes hung from a peg on the back of the door, where she had left them and
her eyes fastened onto them.

   I am supposed to become a wizard?  Or is witch the proper term?  She
blinked at the robe as if it were a foreign thing which she had never
regarded before.  The sound of footsteps passed by her door and then
receded toward the stairs and clomped heavily down them.

   Hastily, she grabbed the robes and tossed them over herself, savoring
the soft feeling of the silk as it slid over her flesh, then turning to
admire herself in a long mirror made of a single panel of almost flawlessly
smooth glass.  She stared at it.  In the manor, only the mistress had owned
such a mirror, and hers was not quite so large.  She touched her reflection
in the glass, looking at her own eyes regarding a tall, slender girl in a
light blue robe with her golden hair cascading over her shoulders.

   I am to be freed this day, she thought, then decided to leave off the
excitement for when that event came to pass, if it did.  Perhaps her master
was only toying with her, to see if she would freely give herself to him,
rather than making it an order.  She had almost done so the night before,
nearly tumbled into his bed and willingly given her body to the man.  Her
face twisted a bit into a scowl at her own foolishness.  No one paid that
much money for a slave then freed them the next day.

   The footsteps came back up the stairs and there was a light rap upon the
door.  "Siska," came Phillip's voice, "I brought you something to eat."

   She blinked again.  He brought food to her?  He must have been sorely
impressed with her mouthing his organ the night before.  Another glower
crossed her face in the mirror before she turned from it.  One save me, how
I degraded myself last night, her thoughts twisted, serpentlike, in her
mind.

   She walked to the door, jerking it open with far more energy than
needed. Phillip started a bit at that and several grapes tumbled off the
platter he held and onto the floor.  She looked down at them even as he did
and they bent together to recover the errant fruit.

   Two skulls met with a dull thud and both fell back onto their backsides.
More grapes rolled off the metal tray, along with an apple, which landed
between her sprawled feet and rolled up her robes.

   The two of them looked at one another before Phillip smiled and began to
laugh.  Siska joined him in the laughter while they attempted to recover
the grapes and she blushingly reached up her robes for the apple.  He stood
first, and put the dray down on a small table inside her door and offered
her a hand.  She smiled and let him help her up.  "Some wizard I am, hmm?"
he asked.

   "Why did you bring me breakfast?" she asked, suddenly very concerned for
his reasons.

   Phillip stopped smiling at the accusing tone in her voice.  He looked at
the tray, then back at her.  "Why not?" he asked.  "I was down there and
was coming up, anyway."

   She looked at the tray.  "It's my job, slave or apprentice, isn't it?"

   He blinked again.  "You're not a slave," he said, his voice darkening
with his eyes.

   "It says I am on that document from the auction house," she said.

   "Which we are going to revoke this very day, Siska," said Phillip.  He
looked at her anew and added, "What's gotten into you?"

   She glared at the tray again.  "I need no payment for the service I
provided last night, nor for those I nearly provided," she said.  "I'm your
slave, I provide whatever service you demand, master."

   She picked up the tray and walked to the small writing desk, sitting in
the chair and began eating the fruit that seemed to not have gathered too
much dirt.

   "Siska. . ." began Phillip.

   Another glower answered him and interrupted his words.  "Lest you
command me, I am eating, master," she said around a mouthful of grapes.  "I
will be available to tend to more of your needs shortly."

   "Damnit, Siska," growled Phillip, stepping into the room and glaring
now. "You offered it last night.  I tried three times to refuse.  What in
the hell should I have done?"

   Siska sighed and turned again.  "You should have treated me like a
slave, and not delivered onto me all this talk of freeing me," she said.

   "You don't believe I'm going to free you?" he asked.

   "I cannot imagine anyone giving up such a sum of money then not keeping
what they bought," she said, turning back to her platter of fruit and
bread. "I was a fool to believe it," she murmured.

   Phillip stomped across the room to the wardrobe and flung it open hard
enough to slam the doors against the frame, then pulled out a pair of
shoes. "Put these on," he growled, tossing them at her feet.

   She blinked at the angry, insistent tone, but responded immediately,
hastily putting on the shoes and tying the thongs that bound them to her
feet.  Suddenly, she was very aware that her master was a wizard of power
and she had upset him greatly.

   His face was flushed red when she looked up again and felt herself
shrink before the corona of coruscating white light about his form.  He was
beyond angry, he was enraged.

   When Siska stood, she felt a strong hand grab her shoulder and aim her
for the door.  "Go, now," he said, nudging her that direction.  She
stumbled a step, then proceeded him out the door and down the stairs to the
cluttered common room.

   Once in the room, she stopped.  "Keep moving," he said, pushing her
again.  Tears were forming in her eyes.  "Please," she said, looking at the
front door, which he was aiming her for.  "I've not been out in the town
much."

   "Your problem," he said, his voice carrying the cold wind of the north
in it.  "Move - slave."

   The tears broke free and ran down her smooth cheeks as she walked to the
door and opened it.  People were moving up and down the wide boulevard at
the end of the drive.  Her feet tried to stop at the door jamb, but Phillip
pushed her blinking and sniffing tears into the morning sunlight.

   "Come," he said walking down the path toward the main street.

   She stood, terrified and still crying upon the porch.  "Master, please,"
she said in a pitiful voice.

   Phillip stopped and turned around.  "If you don't get moving - right now
- I shall sell you to the first brothel we come to for ten marks," he said.
"Then repay that ten marks to them to be your first customer."

   A lump rose in Siska's throat at even the thought of what would have
been happening to her, already, had she been sold to a brothel.  She would
have lost her innocence last night, terribly, then served several other men
after, probably until the sun came up a couple of hours ago.  Clenching her
jaw and fists, she walked after him.

   "Master, where are we going?" she asked.  She had heard some
soft-hearted slave owners paid others to apply punishments to their slaves,
as they could not bring themselves to actually do perform some of the more
base forms of punishment, such as hobbling.

   "Shut up," hissed Phillip.  "You're not dressed as a slave, and if you
keep saying 'master', people will stare."

   She fell into step behind him, as she saw other slaves on the street
doing, walking at their owner's left and two paces to the rear.  He walked
at a brisk pace that nearly made her jog to keep up as he walked down the
busy street.  The tears stung her eyes as she fretted and worried as to
what was to happen.

   Phillip turned off the street suddenly, into a building which bore no
signs.  She followed him hesitantly and stood in the doorway.  A man
glowered from a counter in the room toward her.  "Get out of the door, you
idiot," he said, looking a the parchment in his hand then at Siska. 
"You've dressed her in normal clothes?" he asked.

   "I thought it appropriate," said Phillip.

   The man looked again.  "Appropriate to put a slave in normal folk's
clothes?" he asked, giving Siska a long look.  "No matter how pretty."

   Phillip looked at her.  "Well, that's the point isn't it?" he asked.  "I
want to release her."

   The man blinked at him.  "You've not even fully registered her, sir,"
said the squat, broad-shouldered man.  "You only bought her just
yesterday." He looked down at the papers in his hand and his eyes widened
to the size of pie tins.  "And paid a king's ransom for her, to boot, sir."

   The wizard sighed and gave the clerk a condescending smile.  "Yes, I
know this," he said.  "Believe me, my coffers note the change." He looked
with accusing eyes at Siska.  "Nonetheless, I wish to free her, this day."

   "Can't," said the man, simply, handing back the papers to Phillip.  "Not
today, at least."

   "And why is that?" asked Phillip.

   "Got to have her fully registered first, and notorized," said the clerk,
scratching at his eyebrow.

   Another long sigh escaped Phillip.  "And where to I fully register her?"
he asked.

   "Here, sir," said the man.  "Takes a week or two, though, to finish up
the papers."

   Phillip looked sternly at the man, then at Siska, then at the doorway
leading into the building.  He removed a sack from his belt and dug into
it, pulling forth five GOLD coins and dropping them into the man's hand,
which seemed to have been idly sitting, palm up, on the counter.  "I really
need the whole of the transaction completed this day," he said.

   The man's eyes went wide for a second time at the sight of gold in his
palm.  He sprang into action like his backside were burning and Phillip
held the bucket of water.

   Siska stood stunned as the man ran to and fro, calling to unseen people
in the back room and moving about with documents from the counter to the
room and back, holding them out just long enough for Phillip to sign his
name, then again, with a wrinkled old woman from the back watching, then
Siska was asked to sign something, then with the old woman watching.  There
was a solid-sounding thud as a wax seal was affixed to the parchment, and
it was rolled up and shoved into a leather scroll case, tied with a golden
tassel.

   This happened in the span of less than an hour, and neither Siska nor
Phillip was sure what was happening at any given moment.  Phillip might be
a wizard, but no esoteric magical art could divine the inner workings of
bureaucracy.

   The squat man held the scroll case out to Siska, smiling broadly.  It
was an honest, happy smile, she could tell, even on that rather
squished-looking face.  "Freewoman Siska, your emancipation," he said.

   She took the scroll case like it was something to be feared, her eyes
wide.  Then, she turned to Phillip, tears streaming down her cheeks.  "Ma -
Phillip, One's blessing on you.  My thanks," she said and pinned him to the
wall with a hug that threatened to crush his ribs.  The scroll case thudded
against the back of his head solidly as she shifted her grip on him but did
not relent in the hug one whit for more than a minute.  He could feel the
material of his robe wetting where her eyes were.

   The two walked out of the little office and onto the street again. 
"Now, freewoman," asked Phillip.  "What say you that we go get lunch?"

   Siska blinked at the people around her, smiling broadly, then turned to
him.  "Yes, that would be nice, Phillip," she said, trying out her
'freewoman' voice.

   He offered her his arm, curling it out to form a loop to his side.  She
slipped her hand into the ring and rested it upon his wrist.  Together, the
two walked toward the bustling thunder of the marketplace.

   "Remember, once your training starts, you're my apprentice, and we can't
be friends," he said.

   Siska nodded.  "I understand," she said.

   "But one day without such things is okay, I suppose," said Phillip,
patting her hand.

   Things looked different to her now.  What seemed threatening and
worrisome to her now seemed just uncaring, if not actually inviting.  As
they entered the marketplace, however, they saw a slave following their
master.  Siska stopped and watched the young man shuffle past, his eyes
downcast.

   Phillip stopped with her as she turned to watch him.  "I can't free all
the slaves, Siska," he said quietly, as if apologizing.

   Siska turned toward him.  "It doesn't feel fair," she said.  "Just
because I've whatever it is wizards have, I get freed and they don't." She
kept her eyes upon the slave as he shuffled around the corner and out of
sight.

   Phillip sighed deeply.  "I know, Siska, but I have to be practical in
this," he said.

   She looked up into his eyes and gave her head a slow shake.  "I guess
you do, Phillip," she said.

   They moved off down the walkway toward a eatery off the market and she
looked down, watching the shuffle of her feet.  With an effort of will, she
lifted them higher, then took longer strides.  Then she lifted her head and
looked forward, her eyes turned down when anyone met her gaze, but she
forced them back up, to relock that stare, then return it.  By the time
they crossed the market plaza, they looked away from her violet eyes, some
of them, some met the gaze evenly, a few men blushed.

   Her first meal as a freewoman did not taste much different from her last
as a slave, though it had more meat and less fruit.  She picked slowly at
her food, the scroll case sitting beside her plate taking most of her
attention.  "How does it work?" she asked, eyeing the case harder.  "Do you
have papers saying you're not a slave?"

   "No," said Phillip.  "The paper is just in case someone puts a claim
against you as a former slave." He looked toward the counter and ordered
another glass of wine for each of them.  "It really should not be an
issue."

   "What if I lose this?" she asked, touching the leather case and
frowning.

   "Don't," said Phillip, then added, "however, they keep a copy in the
archives."

   She nodded at that.  "Somehow, I think I won't be misplacing this," she
said, her fingertips stroking the smooth, wax-impregnated leather.

   The mass of people moving past the door of the little eatery still
worried her, and made her feel like running, but the feeling was subsiding
slowly.  No one seemed to give her a second glance, and that helped.  They
simply did not notice her, except in the case of some men.

   Those men seemed to have a roving eye, and they usually smiled or even
blushed when she caught them looking at her.  She did not think that those
particular looks were hostile.

   "They're afraid to speak to you," said Phillip, sipping his fresh glass
of wine.

   Siska looked out the doorway where two young men, her own age, craned
their necks to look back at her, then moved on.  "Why?" she asked.  "Surely
there would be no shame now in speaking to me."

   "The robes, they think you're a wizard," said Phillip.  "They might rush
up to you, seeking aid in something, but they will not walk up to engage in
idle chit-chat.  The glass was empty now and he looked at her hard. 
"Sometimes, I miss it."

   Siska stared at the people in the eatery with new eyes.  "Is that why so
few will meet my gaze?" she asked.

   "Probably, though you probably get more takers than I, being so pretty,"
replied Phillip.

   She blushed a bit at that.  "You really must stop saying that, Phillip,"
she said.  "Though I do like to hear it."

   "Did you just flirt back?" he asked, a broad smile forming on his lips.

   The mild blush Siska had started became a deep crimson flush, and she
giggled.  Phillip had only heard a handful of times that particular sound,
and he found it to his liking.

   "Phillip, may I ask you something?" she asked, her face changing to one
of earnest seriousness in an instant.

   "Of course, Siska," he replied.

   "Why did you not bed me?" she asked.  "I offered it freely last night,
even when I knew you could command it, and I would have obeyed."

   Phillip thought for a long moment.  "It is as I said then," he said.  "I
would only have a woman who gives herself willingly.  And I would only have
one whom I knew had the choice, in her own mind."

   She thought on that.  "If I offer it again this night?" she asked.

   "I will bed you without hesitation," replied Phillip.  "Though I wish
you to not do so from some feeling of gratitude, that would be almost as
bad as doing so for obedience."

   Siska sat in silence for a moment, sipping her own wine and savoring the
taste.  It was a freewoman's wine now, and that should taste better, should
it not?

   "I thought, perhaps you would wish to buy some more clothing this day,"
said Phillip.  "I mean, other than robes.  There will be times you will not
wish to mark yourself as a magician."

   She looked at her powder blue robes.  "I'm not terribly fond of the
color either, Phillip," she said.

   He noted the heavy use of his name, and wondered if she were simply
substituting his name for master.

   "Come, then, if you are done, we'll go buy you some more womanly
clothes," he said.

   Siska rose, but said, "I feel I have spent enough of your wealth."

   Phillip waved a hand at her, dismissing the idea.  "I spent so much
freeing you, another few marks for pretty clothes will not break me."

   Although she knew it was meant to be flippant, she thought the statement
all too true.  "I will try to repay you your costs," she said quietly,
almost too quietly for him to hear.

   He sat a quarter mark on the table and took her arm again, escorting her
back into the crowded marketplace.  She was not sure he had heard her until
he said.  "Repay me by becoming the greatest wizard seen in a generation,
and eclipse my own power.  That would not only make me proud, but happy."

   She blinked a moment, a tear coming to her eyes again.  "I will try,
Mentor," she said, thinking that statement deserved the title.

   Phillip smiled at her gently.  "That is enough," he said.

   Across the wide plaza they strolled, people watching the two magi pass
and some frowning, others smiling, most simply not noticing them at all. 
Siska, for her part turned and gaped at things.  This was, after all, her
first real trip through town without being in a rush to get to a certain
point, and only her second time outside of a home or estate.

   The tower bells chimed noon, ringing deep and sonorous across the plaza.
Siska turned and listened to them.  "I've heard those bells all my life,
Phillip, but always from a distance.  I never knew they were so mighty,"
she said.  "The lady's estate was both sanctuary and prison to me and my
family, you know."

   They had turned down a side street and left the plaza and its hubub of
noise behind.  The street they walked now was still crowded, but most of
the people here were moving, rather than haggling on the spot.  A mannequin
before one store wore an ornate woman's gown, much like some of the lady's
clothing.  The lady allowed some of the slave girls to dress in her old
dresses, before they were sold off, as a form of play.  Siska thought back
to those happy times, with her two friends, Renna and Pamela, all dressed
in finery and parading around the grand ballroom of the estate, pretending
a prince wished to dance with them.

   "Siska?" asked Phillip.

   "Yes?" she thought, suddenly aware that he had asked her a question
before her name.  "I apologize, I was remembering something.

   "Nothing of it, but I was asking if you thought the workmanship good
enough to buy your dresses here?" he asked again.

   She looked at the dress and nodded.  "Yes," she said.  "It seems quite
well made."

   He escorted her in.  A small man with spectacles emerged from the back
at the sound of the tinkling bells.  He looked fearful for a moment, but
then forced a smile onto his face and walked forward.  "Greetings milord
and milady," he said, "welcome to my humble establishment."

   Siska blushed at the milady.  Once, when she and her friends had been
dressed in the finer evening gowns of the mistress', one of the new stable
boys, recently in the home, had mistaken them for noble guests and fell all
over himself to do their bidding.  When it was found out what had passed,
they had their rumps tanned hard, by the boy, while the slavemaster watched
over the proceedings.

   They had been teens by then and to have to bare their bottoms to a boy
who was only ten, so that he could whip them, had been terribly
embarrassing.

   "Siska?" asked Phillip again, and she focused upon the concerned face of
the little tailor.  "He asked what type of dress interests you."

   She blinked a moment.  "Oh, yes, sorry," she said, breaking into a
smile. "My mind is not where it should be this day." She paused for a
moment, looking at the dresses hanging on the wall, all were made at half
size, to simply show styles and colors.

   She pointed to a plain dress of emerald green cloth, cut simply, with a
long skirt and no sleeves.  "I like that one," she said.

   The little man looked at it, then back at her.  "Milady knows that is a
serving girls' dress, does she not?" he asked.

   She stared at him a long moment.  It had reminded her of the outfits
that the mistress had given the girls each year to wear at formal dinners
and such for serving.

   Siska blushed again, her expression becoming almost stunned.  "Oh," she
said, trying to recover her wits.  "I meant the color," she said,
recovering.  "I would like it in that style." Her hand pointed wildly at a
wall, even before she looked hard, simply to be pointing at something else.

   The man and Phillip followed her finger and Phillip's eyes widened and
he grinned.  "Rather revealing isn't it?" he asked.

   She looked at what she had chosen and stared.  It was skimpier than even
her slave's tunic had been.  Siska was embarrassed already, though, and
nodded.  "Yes," she said.  "I've the figure, don't you agree?" she asked,
challenging Phillip to deny it.

   Phillip nodded and the little tailor looked at her, and her robes again.
His lips were now wet as he thought.  "Yes, you seem to be built well for
Coghlandish style garments."

   The dress in question was a one-piece affair with a short skirt, which
was not even hemmed, being longer on one side than the other.  On the
higher side it just barely came to mid thigh, and the long side was only
knee length.  The top was cut low, to the bottom of the breasts and the
back even lower.  It had no sleeves and large openings for the arms.  Siska
idly wondered just how it stayed on.

   Phillip smiled and said.  "I'll leave you to the fitting, then," and
patted her arm.  "I'll be back in half an hour."

   She watched him leave with a slightly worried expression as the man
pulled down the curtain and locked the door.  He lifted a tape measure off
his shoulder and turned about.

   Siska was already nude.

   The small man stood there a long moment, staring, gaping really, at the
lovely creature before him, as she turned to face him and lifted her arms.

   "Um," he said, "I had meant to call in my wife to measure you." His face
was a deep red, like an apple.  His expression nicely mixed pleasure and
fear.

   Siska lowered her arms.  "I've done wrong?  I waited for you to lock the
door," she said.

   In a rush of motion, the little man shot past her and behind a hanging
curtain, then up a set of echoing stairs.

   A moment later, another set of feet descended the stairs and a woman,
small, just like the man, entered the room.  "Ah," she said.  "So I see why
my poor husband is in need of a cold bath." Her expression was mostly one
of interest.  "It is usually proper to wait until the woman is present and
the man gone, at the tailor, to disrobe," she said.

   She looked at the scroll case, still in Siska's hand, even naked, then
walked up to her.  "I am guessing you have never been to a tailor before,"
she said, lifting Siska's arms up and beginning the process of measuring
her.

   "No, milady," said Siska, shaking her head and watching the woman
measure everything of her.  "I apologize if I offended your husband - or
you."

   "Nonsense, girl," said the woman.  "No one is offended, though I may
have to put up with some fevered groping this night, on account of you."

   The smile she gave Siska was actually friendly, and on the verge of
laughter.  Siska giggled, and the woman joined her, unable to keep her face
any straighter.  "Perhaps I can have you simply walk into the store once a
week or so?  After today, you wouldn't even need to disrobe to set his mind
afire."

   Siska misunderstood and said, "I can if you wish it, milady."

   The woman smiled.  "I'm called Maureen, dear," she said.  "And if anyone
is calling anyone milady, when it's just the two of us, I'll be the one
saying it." She glanced at the robes.  "You may not be nobleborn, but you
wear the robes of a wizard, and I'll not be the one who crosses your lot."

   Siska looked at the robes too.  "I'm just an apprentice, Maureen," she
said.

   "Who will become a wizard one day," said Marueen.  "I'll just go with
assuming you are already one, thank you, rather than try to figure out
which of you is all finished with schooling or not."

   She finished measuring Siska and slung the tape over her shoulder.  The
tailor's wife looked at Siska's lean body and long, slender limbs.  "You're
a working woman, else I'm an orc," she said.  'Those are not the muscles of
the idle wealthy."

   Siska nodded.  "I've worked my whole life," she said.  "But not terribly
hard, mind you."

   "I thought, perhaps a maid or serving girl," said the woman, smiling. 
"I worked for a time in an inn." Her eyes grew a bit distant.  "Never
before or since had my backside been so bruised as dodging those gropes in
the half-dark of a tavern."

   Siska picked up her robes and slipped them on.  "Something like that,
yes," she said as her golden hair poked through the head hole and she
pulled the robe down, smiling at Maureen.

   Maureen nodded.  "I won't pry," she said.  "They say wizards give up
their old life, so there's no point in looking back, is there?"

   It took Siska a moment to fully absorb that, then she said, "No, I
suppose there isn't."

   She tailor called out from behind the curtain.  "All is well?" he asked.

   "Yes, Arvid, dear," said Maureen, smiling and winking at Siska.  "Though
she says she won't let me measure her, only the tailor himself."

   "W.  What?" stammered the tailor.

   "Nothing dear.  She's dressed.  You're safe now," said the tailor's
wife. "She won't be ravishing you this day."

   The tailor came in and was still pretty red from before.  He refused to
meet Siska's eyes and held a piece of paper.  Maureen rattled off a series
of numbers, which he wrote down.  "You're sure of that, it's a bit, well,
slim?" he asked.

   "We can have her strip down and you measure her yourself, Arvid," said
Maureen.  As if on cue, Siska reached for the neck of her robes.

   "Tha.  That won't be necessary, milady," he said, looking panicked.

   Siska raised an eyebrow, her expression utterly impassive.  Maureen had
very much put Siska at her ease, and she was rather enjoying the peaceful
little man's discomfort, all in good humor.  "You're certain?" she asked.
"It is not a bother."

   "No, no," he said, smiling and blushing deeper.  "Don't think I don't
know you two conspired to embarrass me." He looked accusingly between the
women.  "You women folk are cruel creatures!" he exclaimed in mock rage,
though he still had a smile on his face.

   He scrambled over and unlocked the door, lifting the shades as he did
so. "Come back on the morrow, and it will be ready." Phillip opened the
door and was just entering as he said.  "And next time, please, keep your
clothes on until I leave the room."

   The expression on Phillip's face was rather dazed as Siska took his arm
and guided him out the door.  "What was that about?" he asked as she guided
him onto the street and in a utterly random direction.

   "Just a bit of misunderstanding, I worked it out," she said.  "Freewomen
do that, solve their own little dilemmas, right?"

   Phillip blinked.  "Yes," he said, then smiled.  "I suppose they do, at
that."

   - -

   They went to several stores and by the time they returned to the house,
Phillip and Siska both were laden with bundles.  Phillip had tried to buy
her everything that caught her eye, and she tried to avoid it.  She had
some dresses, common sorts, that required no tailoring, and a coat, and a
long cloak now, with a hood and silk lining.  She had even bought some
undergarments, though she had never seen their like before.  The mistress
wore some, but they were cotton things.  These were of silk and very soft.
Phillip said that the cotton sort were for old ladies, that young,
beautiful women wore silken or at least satin undergarments.

   She looked at the clothes and goods on her bed, rather stunned by the
size of the pile.  "I've never owned anything," she said, looking back at
Phillip.  "Now, I feel I own more than I know what to do with."

   "Perhaps we should have eased you into this," said Phillip, putting the
last box on the pile.  "But once we begin your apprenticeship, there will
be little time for idle shopping."

   Siska was acutely aware that Phillip had spent almost enough on her this
day to have bought her mother from slavery, wherever she was held.  This
made guilt well up in her and her throat locked up, causing her voice to
hitch.  "Thank you Phillip, but I fear I don't deserve these fine things."

   "No," said Phillip.  "After being kept slave your whole life, you
deserve better."

   She hugged him.  "You stop being so sweet, Phillip, else I will fall for
you," she said.

   Phillip returned the hug.  "Oh, my, the horror of that," he said in a
mocking tone.  "It would just shatter my poor mind to have a beautiful and
intelligent woman fall in love with me."

   Siska buried her face into his neck and she held him close for a long
moment.  "If you will have me, this night, Phillip, I will come to you,"
she said.  Her eyes only flickered across his face, unable to meet his gaze
evenly, and her cheeks turned rosy.

   "No," he replied.  "I know I said I would accept it, but I want you to
have a few days as a freewoman before offering yourself to me.  Also, I
want you to see the hell I put you through in your training, first, too."

   She smiled.  "Very well, but I will take you to my bed if you come," she
said.  "Just know that." Phillip's organ pressed on her leg, swelling
slightly at just the mention of her loving him, and she smiled.  She liked
the feel of it, and of the feeling of control knowing she had caused it to
grow.  One day a freewoman, and look what a wicked creature I've become,
she thought to herself.

   Phillip pulled away, walking back to the door.  "You've hours of
organizing to do there, Siska, I say get to it, apprentice," he said. 
"I'll make dinner this night, but don't expect me to make a habit of it."