Desert World Allegiances (6 page)

“You stole our water.” Temar’s voice was trembling, but he managed to get the words out without stuttering.

“Watch your mouth, slave.”

“I’ll tell. The minute anyone sees me, I’ll tell.” Temar scooted away so that their hips no longer touched, but Ben was so much stronger than he was that he couldn’t pull his hands away from Ben’s grip.

“I doubt that.” Ben’s smile had turned feral, and Temar suddenly found his voice. He screamed as loud as he could. If one of Ben’s or Young’s workers heard him, there would be questions. They would have to get the council. They would have to stop Ben from burning his work. Temar hadn’t even finished his scream when Ben lunged at him, pressing him flat to the bed, so that his weight pressed down on Temar, forcing him to gasp for air. With his bound hands pressing into his stomach, Temar felt as though he were suffocating, and his weak struggles couldn’t move Ben’s massive body off him.

“Since you won’t be quiet, I’ll have to quiet you,” Ben said. He reached over and pulled the pillowcase off Temar’s pillow. Ben’s forearms corded with muscle as he pulled at the fabric until it finally came apart, with a ripping sound. He pulled two long strips of material off the pillowcase and dropped the rest of the torn thing back onto the bed.

“No,” Temar begged, his eyes stinging with tears as Ben wadded one strip up. Temar squirmed and pinched Ben as hard as he could. He got a heel into the bed, straining to turn his body. He did everything he could, but nothing helped. Ben held the wad of fabric against his lips, and Temar tightly closed his mouth.

“Boy, you’re making this far harder on yourself,” Ben warned. His voice had a paternal tone that turned Temar’s stomach, and he only pressed his lips more tightly together. Bracing his fingers behind Temar’s head, Ben pressed his thumb into the soft of Temar’s jaw. Tears escaped and rolled from the outer corners of Temar’s eyes, the pain forcing him to open his mouth. Ben pressed the fabric in.

“For someone so smart, you have some things to learn about life.” Ben placed the second strip over his mouth and pulled it around to the back, tying it tightly. Between the gag and Ben’s weight on him, Temar struggled to get air into his chest. Gray blurred the edges of his vision until Ben finally rolled off him.

For a second, Temar could only lie in his childhood bed and gasp air through his nose as his body tried to get oxygen back into all the places that needed it. Ben’s strong hands flipped him over to his stomach, and Temar was too weak and trembling too badly from fear and lack of oxygen to argue. The leash that dangled from his bound wrists was brought up between his legs and then tied tightly to the back of his belt, so that when Ben flipped him over again, Temar could only blink up helplessly.

His breathing still came in ragged gasps, and Ben reached over and pinched his nose shut. Temar panicked, flopping like a dying sandcat caught in a pipe trap. The hand released him, and he gasped for air again.

“Listen, young idiot!” Ben shook his shoulders, and Temar stared up at him in terror. He’d throw up, only he was afraid Ben would leave him gagged, choking on his own vomit. “Take one deep breath,” Ben ordered.

Temar tried. He got some air in, but just when his body demanded that he push it out and gasp for more, Ben pinched his nose shut again. “I won’t have you hyperventilate. Slow down. When I let go, breathe out.” The fingers released his nose, and Temar blew the air out, hurrying to get more in right away, but Ben pinched his nose shut too quickly. The gray started fuzzing the edges of his vision again.

“Deeper breath this time,” Ben said, letting go. For long minutes, Temar lay on the bed with Ben pinching and releasing his nose, until Temar finally figured out that he could only get enough oxygen if he breathed as Ben ordered him to. His vision cleared, and his breathing evened out, but the terror still clawed at him.

“I knew you were trainable,” Ben said with a friendly slap on the arm that made Temar flinch away. Immediately, a hand was around his neck. “You don’t ever flinch away from me, understand?” Ben’s eyes were hard, and his fingers pressed into the soft of Temar’s neck painfully until Temar gave a small nod. All he had to do was play nice until he could talk to someone, ask them to send word to the council. The farms might be isolated from the town, but there would be unskilled workers on the farm all the time. Young’s workers would pass by on the road to get to town, skilled workers would have to come out to calibrate solar equipment and test water. He could get word out somehow. Right now, he just had to keep Ben happy.

Ben smiled down at him and then used the hand he had wrapped around Temar’s throat to pat him on the cheek. “Good boy.”

Ben sat up, and then, as if testing Temar, patted him first on the arm and then the stomach and then the thigh. “You never flinch from me, boy,” Ben said again, but this time he sounded far more friendly. Of course, this time Temar had held himself still as Ben did as he liked.

Reaching into his inner vest pocket, Ben pulled out a communicator and slipped the listener into his ear. Temar’s eyes went wide.  At one time, communicators had been common enough, and most people had grandparents or great grandparents that still grumbled about missing them, but very few still worked. The search team at White Hills had two and the council at Landing kept one for emergency searches, but no one owned one. Ben pulled one out as casually as one might pull out a handkerchief.  A few taps, and someone on the other end must have answered.

“The Gazer boy has evidence. A lot of it.” He waited as he listened to the answer. “No, he was such a good little boy that he didn’t tell anyone other than his sister.” Ben smiled down and gave Temar another pat on the cheek. For a second, Temar really thought he was going to throw up, gag or no gag. “I think he’s under control. I do want a little insurance, though. No one was bidding the slave price on that sister of his, and the council is not going to like the idea of turning her over to George Young. Why don’t you come in and make a bid on her. If she’s in another territory, I think our boy is going to be very careful to cooperate. He doesn’t want to see his sister hurt.” Ben gave him another pat on the cheek and a smug smile.

Temar had to hold himself stiffly still under that touch, because there was nothing he wanted more than to rip Ben Gratu into tiny little shreds. If he hurt Cyla…. Temar snuffed, struggling to clear his nose as more tears escaped.

“No, I don’t think killing them should be the first choice. If Temar gets free, I’ll call you, and you can kill the girl. Between his father’s insanity and his sister’s death, any madness he spews will be dismissed as more paranoia from the Gazer family tree. God knows the family doesn’t have a great reputation.” Ben listened to the voice on the other end, and Temar realized that Ben was right. Without the notebooks, without proof, he would be no different from his father, accusing neighbors of terrible crimes with absolutely no evidence.

“The plan’s still safe. We move forward,” Ben told the person on the other end, and then he pulled the listener out of his ear, ending the conversation.

“So, let’s get this crap and my new slave back to the farm,” Ben said in a voice cheerful enough to make Temar wish, for the first time in his life, that he had the power to kill another human being. “We can discuss a few ground rules as we head back to the farm.” Ben stood up and pulled Temar to his feet. With his hands tightly bound and his mouth gagged, Temar couldn’t do anything except walk in front of Ben. All around him were the artifacts of his childhood—the old worn couch where he’d bed down his father when he’d staggered home, the picture of his mother with the yellowing edges, the red streak on the wall where Cyla had dropped the stain when she’d tried to apply sealant to the ceiling. But Temar wasn’t part of this life anymore. Temar’s life had just taken a definite turn for the worse.

Chapter 5

B
EN
’
S
house was four stories, tall and narrow and pressed tightly against the cliff wall. The area above the house had been blasted and then reinforced with metal struts to keep the rock wall from threatening the structure. They had done that in the early days of the terraforming. Back then, the drop ships with their weak engines would be cannibalized for parts, as soon as they got the settlers safely down-world. Metal had been far more common then. Now that the inner planets were too busy warring with each other to finish the job of terraforming on Livre, such huge metal struts would never be used for the benefit of one lone farm.

Temar shifted in the seat, pressing his bound hands down into his lap to take the pressure off the rope as he studied the farm that was going to be his home for the next ten years, unless he had a brilliant idea, sometime in the next five minutes. The edges of his mouth stung, but at least he had managed to stop crying. Crying wasn’t helpful. Of course, it didn’t hurt anything, and Temar thought he was justified in feeling a little self-pity. As soon as those records were burned, he had no proof that anything illegal was going on. And after seeing Ben Gratu’s darker side, he wouldn’t be surprised if the man went out and broke some of his father’s pipes, just to cover up for the water theft.

The sled bounced to a stop, and a bald worker stuck his head out of the main door of a three-story barn that sat on the far side of a well-tended and well-watered garden.

“Boss?” He stepped out into the light, and Temar recognized Cardan Smith. His face heated with shame even as a little flicker of hope burned, deep inside. Cardan was a good man. He’d helped Temar and Cyla replace a fallen fence and had undercharged them by quite a lot. No way would he go along with water thievery. Temar glanced over at Ben Gratu. Maybe. Temar was starting to suspect that he wasn’t a particularly good judge of character.

“God’s luck, but I did pick up an interesting purchase this morning,” Ben said in a friendly tone as he got out of the sled. Cardan, however, was looking at Temar with a frown, and Temar could feel his face heat. Sometimes he hated being so different, and this was one of those times. With his fair skin, he knew his blush would be turning his face bright red.

“You bought his slave papers?” Cardan asked. His voice was cautious, but Ben just pulled Temar’s box of test results out of the back and then stacked a load of purchased goods on top of that.

“I thought I was getting the even-tempered Gazer,” Ben said with a dismissive snort that suggested he’d been wrong. He sighed and stood up and looked at Temar with great sorrow. “I know your father has told you these lies, boy, and I understand how hard this is. If I open this door, are you going to kick?” The false sympathy and the suggestion that Temar was some sort of wildcat made Temar blush harder. He closed his eyes tightly and focused on breathing for a second.

“He give you trouble?”

“None that I couldn’t handle,” Ben said, his voice clearly suggesting that yes, Temar had given him quite a lot of trouble. He reached through the open window and patted Temar on the arm. “I know it’s hard, boy. You’re stronger than you think you are, though.” After that bit of unctuous advice, Ben shook his head and turned to his worker. “He’s a teenage boy, and he’s had a lifetime of his father telling him how everyone else is out to get them. Between his father’s paranoia and his sister’s quick temper, I’m surprised the boy has the common sense he’s managed to show, up until now. He’ll settle in as soon as he calms down.”

Cardan leaned on the front of the sled and looked through the glass at Temar. “I always thought the boy had inherited all the common sense in that family.”

“After hearing him go on about Landholder Young, I can safely tell you that he inherited all the foul language, that’s for sure. If Young hears half the accusations this pup is spewing, he’s going to demand a few labor days, at the very least. I would just as soon we keep George away from our young fool, at least until he grows up and learns to control his mouth.” The suggestion that Ben was trying to protect him made the tears press up in Temar’s eyes again. He’d been such an idiot for thinking that Ben would want to help. He’d been such an idiot for thinking that anyone would go out of their way to help him.

“George has the sense of humor of a pipe trap plant.”

“That’s an insult to pipe trap plants,” Ben countered. “Can you escort him up to the house? Watch out, because he’s one to kick and bite at the most unexpected moment, and the first day of a ten-year slave sentence would test the common sense of anyone, even without the Gazer family temper.”

Temar sat through the exchange with his face hot and his guts twisting. “No worries. If I can work with that bad-tempered boar of yours without getting gored, I can handle one wisp of a boy.” Ben turned away and picked up the box from the dusty ground. When Cardan opened the sled door to release the restraints, Temar tried staring desperately at the box. If the box went into the fire, he had nothing, no chance. He needed to get someone to look at his papers before the council could sell his sister to Ben Gratu’s friend. He needed Cardan to notice that box

Without fighting the tight grip, he stared first at Cardan and then the box in Ben’s hands and then back to Cardan. He’d give twenty years off his life in exchange for five minutes of telepathy. Unfortunately, Cardan didn’t seem to notice as he pulled Temar into a small room with a couch and several chairs made of windwood branches. A rock arch led into a second room with the mechanics. Temar strained forward. The incinerator and recyclers would be in here. He couldn’t let his work end up being recycled into fertilizer.