Tavi folded up the ludus board back into its case, recovered both of his blades, and made his own way back to the city. He slipped in through the gates just as deep drums began to rumble and Canim war horns began to blare.
Tavi spotted Valiar Marcus and called to him. "First Spear, get the men into position! This is it!"
Chapter 42
"Very well," Lady Aquitaine said. She nodded to Odiana, and said, "Time we got into costume."
Odiana promptly opened a backpack and handed Amara her disguise.
Amara stared down at the scarlet silk in her hands, and said, "Where is the rest of it?"
Aldrick stood at the hostel's window, watching the street outside. The big swordsman glanced back at Amara, made a choking sound in his throat, and turned away.
Odiana exercised no such restraint. The lovely water witch threw back her head and let out a peal of laughter, a sound too loud for the room they had rented from a surly Kalaran innkeeper. "Oh, oh, my lord. She's blushing. Isn't she fetching?"
To her horror, Amara realized that Odiana was right. Her cheeks felt as though she could have heated water on them, and she had absolutely no idea what to do about it. It was not the sort of situation she had been trained to handle. She turned away from Lady Aquitaine and her retainers and held up her disguise.
It consisted of a simple sheath of red silk, held up by a pair of tiny silk straps. Neckline, such as it was, was alarmingly low-and in back, the garment would leave her naked almost to the waist. The little shift's hem would fall to the tops of her thighs if she was lucky.
"Now, now," Lady Aquitaine chided Odiana. "Show her the rest of it."
"Yes, Your Grace," Odiana said with a little curtsey. Then she drew out a pair of light sandals with straps that would wrap the leg to the knee, a pair of slender silver armbands wrought in the shapes of ivy vines, a beaded headdress that faintly resembled a chain coif and a plain, smooth metal band.
A discipline collar.
It was a slaver's device, furywrought to give control of whoever wore it to the slaver. It could incapacitate its wearer with pain-and, more insidiously, it could, at the slaver's option, provide the inverse of that sensation, and just as intensely. Discipline collars were sometimes used to restrain particularly dangerous furycrafters being held for trial in the legal system, though such cases were historically rare.
But in the past century or so, their manufacture and use had become far more widespread, as the institution of slavery deepened and darkened. Prolonged exposure to the collars could shatter the mind and will. Continually forced through agonies of torment and euphoria, victims were compelled to obey the slaver and forced to experience pleasure as they did so. Over time, often years, many such slaves were reduced to little more than animals, their humanity torn from them and replaced with the simple, irresistible compulsion of the collar. Chillingly, they were often deliriously happy to be that way.
More independent-minded individuals could often resist the extremes of dehumanization others faced-for a time, at least. But none of them survived it unscathed. Most went hopelessly mad.
"Blushing," Odiana singsonged, and spun on her toes in a little dance step. Her silk dress changed colors, shifting from pale blue to pink. "Just this color, Cursor."
"I'm not wearing a collar," Amara said quietly.
Lady Aquitaine arched an eyebrow. "Why on earth not?"
"I'm aware of how dangerous they can be, Your Grace," Amara said. "And I have certain reservations about the notion of closing one around my neck."
Odiana covered a titter with one hand, dark eyes shining as she stared at Amara. "You needn't be so afraid, Countess," she murmured. "Honestly. Once the collar is on, it's quite difficult to imagine living without it." She shivered, and licked her lips. "You scream all the time, but it's the inside kind. You scream and scream, but you can only hear it when you're asleep. Otherwise it's quite lovely." She gave Aldrick a somewhat petulant look. "My lord won't collar me. No matter how naughty I am."
"Peace, love," Aldrick rumbled. "It isn't good for you." He glanced at Amara and said, "the collars aren't genuine, Countess. I made them out of table knives this morning."
"It isn't the sort of pretend I like to play," Odiana sniffed. "He never lets me have my favorites." She turned away from Aldrick, passing a second costume like Amara's to