The Blue Pistol

By Robert Collins

"The Blue Pistol" and his allies use guns and magic to fight the Slavers Guild, the ruling power of the Settled Domains. They also use terror, deception, truth, and knowledge in their fight against slavery. This ebook combines the six novels that make up the series into a single digital compilation volume.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Robert Collins
• Release date: May 1, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370459216

Robert Collins

Two people with different cultural backgrounds and ethnicities met at a European and Balkan music and dance ensemble named Koroyar and their lives became intertwined, combining their gifts to continue exploring life as an avenue of creative expression. Robert Collins has a Bachelor of Arts in Anthropology, and has been an educator in the Los Angeles area for thirty years. He studied writing with Joan Oppenheimer in San Diego, with Cork Millner privately, and also in the Santa Barbara Writer's Conferences. Elizabeth Herrera Sabido, at the age of sixteen years, began working as a secretary at the Secretaria de Industria y Comercio in Mexico City where she was born, then she was an educator for twenty-six years, and a teacher of international dance for The Los Angeles Unified School District. She has also studied Traditional Chinese Medicine, and is a Reiki Master Teacher. Attracted by the Unknown, the Forces of the Universe, and the human psyche, during their lives they have studied several different philosophies. Elizabeth has been involved with various religions, Asian studies, and Gnosticism with SamaelAun Weor, and Robert has explored spiritual healing practices in Mexico, and studied with Carlos Castaneda's Cleargreen and Tensegrity. Elizabeth and Robert start their day at four-thirty in the morning. They enjoy playing volleyball and tennis, and in the afternoons play music, alternating between seven different instruments each. Their philosophy of Personal Evolution has led them to explore over 110 countries between the two of them such as Japan, Nepal, Egypt, Bosnia- Herzegovina, the Philippines, Turkey,Russia, etc.

Book preview

CASSIA

ONE

LATE SUMMER

Cassia glanced at herself in the hallway mirror one last time. Her brown hair was pulled back tightly. Recently cleaned blouse and leggings covered her short, slender body. Her short-sword gleamed like polished silver. The tiny ruby in her Slavers’ Guild pendant shined fiery red. She smiled at her reflection warmly. She was presentable to Lord Master Varus of Iron Plain.

She walked into Varus’ study. The tall, dark-haired man was sitting in a wide chair, reading papers. When he saw her, he smiled and set the papers aside. He rose, and gave her a hug. Ah, Cassia. It is good to see you again.

He moved her an arm’s-length away and looked at her. You have become quite the young woman.

More ‘young’ than ‘woman,’ I think, Lord Master, she replied.

Varus laughed. He looked at her for a long moment. His gaze did disturb her, but only slightly. She knew his preference for petite young slaves and was aware that she still appeared younger than her natural age. But Varus had been a friend of her father’s. It was due to his lobbying that she was able to even enter the Guild, much less become a journeyman. If he found her appealing, it was her privilege to be admired. He had served the Guild a long time. His service and accumulated rank had to be respected, even if it meant tolerating an instant of lustful staring.

He finally waved at a chair opposite the one he had been seated in. Sit, my dear. How is your mother?

Very well these days, Cassia said as she sat down. I do not think she mourns for Father much anymore.

A good slaver, and a good friend. How about you? Does the Guild appreciate your talents?

She shook her head. I have applied for every post available, yet I still spend my time counting collars and delivering scrolls.

Varus shook his head. Such a waste. Still, there are few duties for a woman in the Guild.

Cassia didn’t disagree with him; it would have been as disrespectful as expressing displeasure with his gaze. The thought still came over her that, had she been a son, the Guild would have granted her prized duties. Indeed, part of her told her to be grateful that she had even been accepted into the Guild. She ought to be happy to wear a journeyman’s pendant. After all, she could be married to some peasant lout or a lowly merchant’s son.

She noticed a glow in Varus’ brown eyes. Sir, have you summoned me to take advantage of some opportunity?

Indeed I have, Cassia. The glow faded. You are, of course, familiar with the outrages of the so-called outlaw the ‘Blue Pistol?’

Yes. She repressed a shudder at the mention of the outlaw’s name.

Every one member of the Slavers’ Guild had heard of his crimes. He had appeared a year and a half ago. He had robbed several caravans of valuable slaves, as the outlaws of Freeman’s Hold had been doing for years. He had killed their guards, but unlike the others the Blue Pistol sometimes left one man alive to report his thefts.

That was not all this vicious outlaw had done. The previous year he had intercepted the Guild’s stipend for its protection of coin shipments from Saint’s Hope. He had murdered Lord Master Quintillus on an open street in Black Rapids. The little Guild-friendly inn at Cross Town was destroyed. He had then disrupted the Guild’s effort to open inns along the road from Cold River to Black Rapids, and in doing so killed more Guildsmen and stolen more merchandise.

This year the outlaw had gone further. The first caravan along the new road opened between Forest Clearing and Woodford had been wiped out. The hall at Woodford had been sent on a false trail so that he could murder Lord Master Craxus in his own bed. A group of journeymen on the road from Iron Plain to Cross Roads were murdered. A caravan close to Crown’s Hold was attacked and more slaves stolen.

However, the most brazen attack of all had happened a few weeks before. The outlaw was able to force his way into the hall at Rock Creek. He used exploding powder flasks and his magical guns to kill every Guildsman in the hall. He then helped the slaves held in the pens next to the hall to escape.

Still, after all these crimes, the Guild had done nothing to stop him. From what Cassia had heard, there seemed to be no way to stop him. Descriptions of him varied from one crime to the next. He seemed to appear and disappear at will. He could attack from concealment, fire his guns multiple times without needing to reload, and had the ability to fire farther than any gun known.

One man, she thought, and he makes us seem so helpless. I wonder if Varus has some idea of how to end this criminality.

I am quite familiar with his outrageous spree of murder and mayhem, she told him. I also know that little has been done against him, save an increase in caravan guards and such. Have you a way to combat him?

I have something better. I have a plan to stop his reign of terror once and for all time, Varus said. I require a woman to carry out this plan to capture or kill this outlaw. A woman who can fight, but not seem to be a threat. A woman willing to risk her life in service to the Guild.

An odd chill ran down Cassia’s spine. Tangling with the Pistol would be very dangerous. But success would bring glory to me, and to Varus. He always rewards those who served him well. It might also put an end to the loathsome drudgery my superiors keep assigning to me.

Sir, I an honored that you would ask me. This is an opportunity that I cannot let escape.

Varus smiled broadly. I knew my Cassia would accept. You have heard that the annual stipends of the southeastern halls have been delayed due to flooding?

I have heard stories of the flooding, yes, but not that.

The hall in Hilltown has volunteered to collect the stipends and transport them through here to Cross Roads. It is the only route open until the bridges are rebuilt.

Sir, may I ask a question?

Indeed you may.

I can easily accept that so much coin being transported would be attractive to this Blue Pistol. If I, an ordinary journeyman, do not know of this shipment, how is an outlaw to learn of it?

What has been kept silent about the Blue Pistol’s attack upon the hall in Rock Creek, Cassia, is that correspondence was stolen, in addition to the murder of Guildsmen and the loss of property. Among the correspondence taken was the letter informing the Masters of all halls of this situation. Unless he is an illiterate peasant, he is certain to have read that letter. I have concluded from that fact that the stipend caravan could be a target of his banditry. If so, this is our opportunity to entrap and eliminate this outlaw.

Cassia nodded in agreement. What is my part in this opportunity?

The caravan is expected to leave Hilltown in four days. You shall ride there as swiftly as you can. I will give you a letter to present to Master Francianus. He will take possession of your pendant, weapon, and clothing.

Lord Master?

"You must disguise yourself as the caravan’s servant, Cassia. The Blue Pistol does not kill slaves as a rule. This is the only way that you might escape his wrath, should he attack. If he appears, you are to make yourself available to him. Then, when he is vulnerable, you are to take him into custody. Use his infernal weapons against him, but do not kill him, unless you have no choice. There are many questions regarding his methods, and we would prefer that he be alive to answer them.

If he strikes between Hilltown and here, take him to the nearest Guild hall, either in Hilltown or here. If he strikes between here and Cross Roads, take him to the main hall there and send a message. Beyond there, you are to take him to the nearest hall and send for me. I can not provide you with another weapon or with shackles. How you bind him is a problem you must solve on your own. So long as he is not killed, you are to use your discretion. Any further questions, Cassia?

She paused for a moment to consider what he was asking. The plan was elegant in its simplicity, yet had not obvious flaws to undermine it. However, she would have to disguise herself as a slave if she were to carry out her part in it. While she was strong for her size, she would be at the mercy of the men in the caravan. While she found intercourse most pleasant, and her chastity chain quite effective, she would still have to debase her standing.

Varus seemed to sense her thoughts. He said, No doubt your are concerned about what I am requesting of you. I shall send instructions to Francianus that himself, the caravan’s Master, and its journeymen will have to answer with their honor and rank if you should report any mistreatment. Furthermore, I shall also state that I will give more weight to what you say than to what they say, if it comes to that.

Thank you, Lord Master, she replied.

As for your standing in the Guild, this will be a formal mission. If you conduct yourself properly, I will make certain that no whisperings undermine you. Your father was a man of honor who gave his life in service to the Guild. If his only child accounts herself in this task with honor, there should be no ramifications to her reputation or status. I promise you I will not allow your honor, or his, to be sullied by idle gossip.

She took in a breath after he spoke. Not only were his words a reassurance, but they also contained a message of favoritism towards her. If I complete this mission successfully he is certain to become an active advocate for me within the Guild. My father’s memory has done little for me up to now. For me to advance I need to become allied with someone of power. Varus was now promising to become that ally.

That should be compensation enough for any humiliation I experience making myself available for the gratification of the journeymen, she mused.

Your reassurances are more than generous, she said at last. I do have one question still in my mind, Lord Master.

What is that?

What if the Blue Pistol does not take this bait?

I am confident that he will.

I am sorry, sir. I did not mean to give offense.

I took no offense, Cassia. I merely expressed my confidence. If the outlaw does not offer battle, I have another plan in mind: infiltration of the outlaw stronghold to the west. Carry out this mission, and if the Blue Pistol does not appear, I shall give that second assignment to you.

In that case, Lord Master Varus, I humbly accept your request for my service.

***

I was difficult for Cassia to watch her fellow Guildsmen to be cut down. They had treated her as well as they could. Of course she had to do the hard work, disguised as the camp’s servant. At night they treated her as one of them, not as the camp whore. They gave a good account of themselves, fighting to the last even as the Blue Pistol shot them down from ambush. She struggled the urge to fight at their side.

The fight didn’t last very long, not with the Pistol shooting from some distance away. She kept her head on the ground. The only sound was of one of the men, Graius, breathing hard from a chest wound. She waited for the Pistol to approach, turning slowly to look at her comrade.

Graius gasped abruptly. A shot ripped the air. Cassia let out a squeak.

The hammer of a gun clicked.

Do not hurt me! she cried.

The hammer clicked again. This time she heard the sound of gun going back into a holster. Footsteps approached her.

The man was practically beside her before she could see anything of him. His body looked average in height and weight. He had fair hair. As he knelt down to her, she saw he had blue eyes and an open face. He looked more like a young merchant than a vicious killer.

Are you the Blue Pistol? Cassia had little trouble sounding afraid.

The man nodded. Yes. He knelt in silence for a long moment, looking at her. He looked her over. Are you hurt? His voice was calm, almost pleasant.

No.

He drew a pistol. Good. Stay here, and keep quiet. He walked towards the wagon. His movements were silent and deliberate until he opened the wagon’s rear door. Upon opening it he moved quickly, ready to shoot anything that might pose a threat.

As Cassia watched him, thoughts of her mission went through her brain. The pistol he held was the one that he’d dispatched Graius with, but how could that be? It had only one barrel, so unless magic was involved, it could only fire one bullet. This contradiction is as serious a threat to the Guild as the threat of the gun’s owner. If I could learn its secret, the Guild could crush its enemies.

She had heard rumors that the Blue Pistol carried strange guns of unusual abilities. If his guns were enchanted, this presented a difficulty of serious proportions. Wizards had always been reluctant to assist the Guild, and long ago had placed conditions on the handling of slaves with magical abilities. As yet the wizards had not organized, much less openly tried to oppose the Guild’s power and status. If the Blue Pistol’s weapons and actions were part of such a challenge, resisting the challenge would require a great deal from the Guild.

Further speculation on her part ended when the man exited the wagon carrying a locked chest. He put in on the ground near Cassia. He searched the bodies for a few moments until he found Master Marcus’ keyring.

Why doesn’t he use his gun on the lock? Cassia wondered. That’s what the outlaws from Freemen’s Hold would do.

He opened the chest and examined its contents. Copper and silver, he said. He glanced at Cassia. Would you like to be a rich lady?

She shook her head. That is Guild money.

Not anymore. He searched the camp again. He stopped when he found a shovel. He handed it to her and said, Dig a hole.

For the bodies?

No. A small hole, but a deep one. I will be right back.

Cassia dug. He returned leading a saddled black mare. He told her to keep digging. As she worked, he chased away six of the seven mounts the group had. He loaded the corpses into the wagon, removing nothing, not even their coin purses. He took a handful of mainly silver coins from the chest, and put them into a partly-full coin purse tied to his saddle. He then examined the hole she had dug.

It was slightly narrower than her, but half as deep as she was tall. He nodded to her, brought the chest to the hole, then dumped the rest of the coins into it. He helped her cover up the hole, then moved the wagon over the spot.

What are you doing? Do you not want the money? He shook his head. You could give it to peasants, Cassia pointed out, or other slaves.

It would still return to the Slavers’ Guild, he said. He lit up a torch, and set fire to the wagon. This way, the money just disappears. He freed the two horses that led the wagon.

He helped her get on the one mount he hadn’t let escape. Ridgewood is two days north. I will escort you there. From there you may go where you will.

They departed from the road. It was slow progress through the wilderness. Cassia hoped to engage the man in conversation as they rode. A hissed silence and an ugly glance dashed her hope. It was well past sunset when they finally stopped at a clearing just big enough for their camp and their horses.

She considered offering her body to him in gratitude for her liberation. It would be hard to bed a murderer and outlaw. It was by far and away the best chance she would have to capture him without killing him or harming herself. Indeed, her only regret on that account was that he had not kept to the road. They would be in the next village, and there she could obtain assistance from the village elders.

Mustering up her courage, and diminishing her voice to a whisper, she said, If you do not wish to sleep alone, sir,...

No, he snapped. I do not want such thanks. If I did, I would not be so crass as to demand sex. You do not have to offer your body to any man. Not anymore.

His reaction kept her awake for some time. Did he not see the chain on my waist? she wondered. He has attacked enough caravans to know that all female servants wear such chains and can not get pregnant.

Could it be that he is he married? Surely he would not be so foolish as to have a wife who could be harmed in his absence. Even if he is, why should he object to bedding a slave? Does he like men? Or am I not the type of woman he prefers? Most men do prefer full breasts and wide hips.

Perhaps he is mistrustful. Yes, that must be it. I should work tomorrow to earn his trust. I should endeavor to make him care for me. No man can go without bedding a woman for very long. I am a woman, and part of me was pleased by my recent companionship, somewhat forced as it was. Even a slender girl such as me will begin to seem attractive. And while my body might be slender, I do have breasts and hips. Many men have found my face more than pleasant to look upon, and not just slaves eager to remain in the favor of a journeyman.

I can gain his sympathy, she reassured herself. I can gain his favor, and lure him into bed. Then I will press my attack on the Blue Pistol.

***

His lips brushed against hers. Happy? he murmured, rolling off her.

Mm. Cassia drifted to left of the bed so that the Blue Pistol could lie down. She took his left hand and held it between her thighs. You are pleased.

Satisfied.

Cassia felt oddly warm as she caught her breath. The man had been enthusiastic, of course; men always were. She was not certain when the notion had come to her, but it had occurred to her that his pleasure came in part from feeling her pleasure. It was not at all like the night she had offered her virginity to Varus’ son Valoris. Nor did it resemble the afternoon a year ago when she had been able to bed the handsomest slave she had ever come across, in a minor abuse of her duty testing newly-matured males for strength and servility.

As her breath steadied she felt strong. The experience was seductive, in a dangerous and thrilling way. She also had a feeling of eagerness towards the effort. It had been the first time she had a partner in intercourse in many weeks. She had not realized until then how much she had missed the experience of full participation from a man. Indeed, she had not such a sense since before Valoris broke off their relationship.

She inwardly shuddered. I should not be diverted by such trivialities, she snapped silently. I have a mission to carry out. It is time for me to do my duty. It is time to end the reign of terror this Blue Pistol has been carrying out.

His breathing was slowing down. His eyes were closed. Cassia wondered to herself if he asleep. She suspected that he might be, but decided that it did not matter. He seemed vulnerable, and that was enough.

She turned away from him. She looked at the holstered pistol tied to the bedpost behind her. He had a gun with a longer barrel that he appeared to prefer. That weapon was tucked away in his bedroll. The pistol was closer, and needed merely to be removed. She idly expressed to herself amazement that he had been so trusting.

She reached for the weapon, careful not to disturb him.

She removed the gun. Incredibly, he still did not stir.

The cool grip was somewhat hefty in her small left hand. She waited until the metal barrel was pressed against his forehead before she spoke. Do not resist.

What do you think you are doing? he asked. His eyes stayed shut; his tone was soft. Do you think that this will buy you more freedom?

I do not need more freedom.

He finally opened his eyes. He smiled. So, the Guild is hiring young girls to be their assassins?

I am no hired assassin. I am Cassia, confirmed journeyman of the Slavers’ Guild. You are my prisoner.

Not anymore, Cassia. He sat up. And you do not hold me.

Cassia put her thumb on the hammer. I commanded you not to resist!

Or you shall do what?

She tried to pull the hammer back. She gasped; it refused move backward into firing position! She tried a second time, and a third. She tried both thumbs, then her right hand. The hammer would not pull back!

He easily snatched the gun out of her hands. He pressed the barrel to her head. He snapped the hammer back casually. I think it looks bad for you, he said mildly.

Magic, she hissed. There was only one explanation for why she had not been able to use the weapon: it was enchanted with a spell of personal use of some sort. Which could mean but one thing. The thought washed over Cassia like a frigid breeze.

He had expected something like this, she realized.

I never had a chance.

Get it over with, she said. The calm in her voice surprised her. If you can kill a naked girl in a village inn.

Oh, no. He shook his head. You shall not escape so lightly.

She faced him. What do you mean?

The smile faded from his face. Let me show you what the Blue Pistol really is, Cassia, so you shall understand what will happen. I am here to destroy the Guild and everything it stands for. My orders are to be as ruthless and vicious as I possibly can. He reached for something on the belt his pistol’s holster was attached to. "I think I should show you how foolish you were to join the Guild. You should experience the pain your fellow guildsmen inflict upon others. I will not kill you, Cassia.

I am going to punish you.

An instant later, everything went dark. Cassia awoke on a hard floor with an iron collar around her neck. Someone was shaking her. A rough voice ordered, Get up, you scrawny bitch!

She glanced around. She was being hauled out of a wagon a hour before sunset. There was another wagon ahead, and both were stopped on a road. Between the wagons, a round, short young woman tended a pot over a fire. She was being dragged towards the other woman.

Help Leda with the stew, the man holding her snapped. He tossed Cassia to the ground. Cassia glanced at the man. He was tall, fair-haired, and middle-aged. He wore a Guild pendant around his neck.

What is going on? she asked. I am Journeyman Cassia, daughter of...

The man slapped the back of his hand across her face. Get to work!

That Tyrus was right, another man, dark and fat, said. She is going to need some breaking in.

Breaking in? Cassia’s breathing quickened. Please, take me to Lord Master Varus in Iron Plain. He knows who I am. He got me accepted into the Guild!

Both men laughed. Oh, we shall take you to Varus all right, the dark one said. Tyrus said he will like you. He likes the slender girls.

Reality slapped Cassia harder than any man could. The meaning of the Blue Pistol’s last words to her became clear as glass. He had sold her into slavery. He hoped that this would somehow change her view of things. Perhaps he even hoped also that she would be tamed, made helpless, and thus would be unable to hinder him any more.

You have not won yet, Blue Pistol, she swore silently as she began to cook. I can endure the days it will take to get to Iron Plain. When Varus sees me, he will remove this collar. Then I will stop at nothing to pay you back for this humiliation. I will watch you suffer before you die.

We shall see who is punished.

***

Anticipation helped Cassia endure being led through the slaves’ entrance of Varus’ manor. This time, instead of meeting him in his study, she was brought to a small upstairs bedroom. She wore the same short, rough dress that she had been in the past five days. The collar was gone, but was replaced by leather straps that bound her wrists behind her. One of the journeymen in the caravan that had brought her still pressed her arms behind her in spite of the restraints.

At least they were decent enough to heal up my bruises, she thought.

A glance at the room sparked her memory. This was the room she had always stayed in whenever she had visited! This had to be good sign.

The door opened, and Varus strode into the room.

Cassia bowed her head. Lord Master,... she began.

The journeyman shook her. Do not speak till you are spoken to!

Varus brought up a slender and ornate copper collar. He gently slipped it around her neck. Untie her. The man unbound her wrists. You have done well, Journeyman Sulla. You may return to your companions. Your master has your share. The man bowed to Varus, then left.

Cassia looked up at Varus. Lord Master, I...

Varus frowned. Be silent. You failed me, Cassia. Six guildsmen dead and the stipends from the southeast gone. And is the Blue Pistol dead? No. He is laughing at us. I thought you had inherited your father’s strength. It seems you have inherited your mother’s weakness.

Cassia looked down as she tried to respond. He was expecting such a deception, Lord Master Varus. He...

Varus silenced her by ripping open the top of her dress. A weak girl like you should not have been admitted to the Guild. I will overcome my lack of judgment.

He brushed the back of his right hand over her breasts. "I know that you were staying in this very room when you first bled. I considered seducing you then, but my wife was two rooms away. Valoris said you were a needy girl, barely interested in pleasing him. Well, Cassia, you will learn to please. That way, you can earn back what your failure has cost me.

First, I shall find out if you managed to learn anything of use in your time with the Blue Pistol. He grabbed her right arm.

No, she said, more a sob than a scream. Tears welled up in her eyes.

Yes. As you well know, the more you resist, the more you shall suffer.

***

Cassia wanted to sleep, but was afraid to lose awareness. She tried to cry. The tears would not come. She crushed her pillow against her body. It wouldn’t shield her. Nothing could. She was too tired to stay awake, but too afraid to rest. Cold thoughts crossed her mind.

At first she cursed herself for not being wiser. She ought to have risked trying to find the Blue Pistol’s knife. She should have thought first before reaching for his pistol. It was too easy to put her hands upon. She should have seen the trap.

How was I to know? she asked herself. Not even Varus had suspected that the Blue Pistol would be prepared for such an attempt against him.

Varus. I had believed that he was my friend.

The thought brought back the memory of the previous day in his custody, and she cursed herself again. I should not have been so eager to talk. I should have remembered that such eagerness is always suspected. It would not have been so hard.

Perhaps not. He expected much of me, and I failed him. Nothing could have spared me from that.

But I did not fail him. The Blue Pistol was smarter than me, smarter than him, smarter than any of us. How could I have succeeded against such a foe?

She decided that such musings along those lines were pointless. She had been outwitted. Varus had questioned her. She had told him all she knew. She had endured the ordeal, and it was over.

And yet, a new ordeal now faces me. I am now a slave. My days will be filled with work. Though, as I do know Varus, and what he has planned for me, the work will not be too burdensome. I am young, slender, and attractive. My body is not fit for breeding, if my mother’s experience bearing me holds true for me. I shall be his pleasure until he tires of me, then I shall be some other man’s pleasure.

I shall be the pleasure of men until my looks fade.

I have no hope of escape. No slave does.

Cassia’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a gun being fired. Suddenly the clatter of moving footsteps drifted through the manor house. There were more booms from a gun. The blasts were disturbingly familiar to her mind.

She held the pillow closer to her. She glanced around the room, hoping to find a place to hide. She considered getting under the bed, but decided that such an action might only get her into deeper trouble. She wrapped herself tighter in the bed’s sole blanket.

The bedroom door burst open. Varus stood in the doorway, dressed in his nightclothes and brandishing a sword. Not only a failure, but a traitor as well. He yanked her off the bed and out of the room.

Cassia wanted to beg, but she had been begging for days. More pleading would accomplish nothing. She let him drag her into the hallway.

Do not move, a familiar voice ordered.

Varus turned, spinning Cassia in front of her. They were face to face with the Blue Pistol. He aimed pistol at Varus, his face somber. The Blue Pistol’s long gun was strapped to his back. Varus shoved Cassia to the floor. The Pistol snapped back the hammer of his gun.

Varus dropped his sword. Spare me, and I shall let you go.

No.

Varus took one bullet to his chest. He involuntarily knelt down. He fired a second round into Varus’ head. Varus’ body spun to the floor.

The Blue Pistol offered his free hand to Cassia. Do you wish to die here, or do you wish to live?

She looked at his hand. She noticed the smell of smoke filling the hall. She glanced at Varus’ corpse. She looked at the Pistol’s face. It was mild, but stern. She accepted his hand, allowed him to help her stand, and let him remove her collar.

Embrace me.

No. You have not saved me.

That is not what I mean. I need you to clasp your arms around me. That I how I will get you away from here.

She looked at him. His expression had remained mild. She let out a long breath. She stood, took his hand, and allowed him to pull her close to him.

TWO

THE NEXT AFTERNOON

It seemed that half the day had passed when Cassia was taken from the room she had been sleeping, eating, and resting in. The woman, Adele, led her to another room with a table, two chairs, and an object on the table. Adele motioned to Cassia to sit down in one of the chairs.

At first Cassia thought the object might be a device to harm her in some way. There was small tube connected to it with a dark, thick string. On closer inspection she saw that the device had a sheet of paper in it, and other sheets next to it. Unless it fires paper at me, she noted, it cannot do me any harm.

Adele took something from her hand and put it on Cassia’s head. She wondered it that might the thing they would use on her. Two padded shells covered her ears, and were connected by a thin strip of metal that ran over her head. From the right side a thinner strip led to a circular part that rested in front of her mouth.

Adele left the room without another word. A moment or two later the Blue Pistol entered and sat down in the other chair, across from her.

You are the one sent to question me, she said.

I am here to ask you questions, yes, he replied.

She shook her head. When she had spoken, words came out from the object in front of her mouth that were not hers, and that she did not understand, but were in her voice. When he responded his lips moved, but the words she heard did not match how his lips moved.

What is happening? she asked, unnerved.

What you are wearing is called a translator, he said. It takes my words, which I am speaking in English, and translating them so you hear Latin. It then does the reverse when you speak. It may seem strange. You will have to get used to it.

There was much strange about what had happened since he had brought her from Lord Master Varus’ manor to this building in this unknown land. They had given her a room to rest in and a cot to sleep on. The cot was no bed, but she was allowed to sleep without interruption. She was brought food in the morning. She was also given clean undergarments, a shirt, a dress, and shoes.

All was not pleasant. So far only Adele had spoken to her, and that briefly. The door to the room was kept locked. Cassia could tell from the shadow under the crack between the door and the floor that a guard had been posted. What does it all mean? she had wondered before being brought to this room.

Now I shall find out.

What should I call you? she asked.

Bart. My name is Bart Cochran. Call me Bart. He let out a breath. I am going ask you some questions. Keep in mind that we might already know the answers, and that others would be easy to verify. I will know if you tell a lie, one way or the other. These questions may seem strange or trivial. Do not think about them, just answer. Do you understand?

I understand.

He pointed to the tube on the table. Speak towards that. The machine will hear what you say and write it out.

You are joking.

No. Wait for it to stop making noise, though, or it won’t understand you. Speak a sentence, wait, then continue. He paused. Oh, and unless you want me looking down your dress, you need not bend down closer to that, the microphone.

I do not want that. Is that what the device is called?

The machine is a docugraph. The thing connected to it, that will hear you, is the microphone.

Very well.

Bart touched a small lever on the machine with the forefinger of his right had. What is your name?

Cassia.

What was your occupation?

I hold... I held the rank of journeyman in the Slavers’ Guild.

The noise the machine made was indeed substantial. She turned to watch it work. Small metal bars snapped forward, striking a strip of black cloth that was held against the paper. When a row of words had been struck, the machine would turn the paper so that it could make a new line. She recognized most of the letters, but the words were completely unknown to her. It was distracting yet fascinating.

Where did you live?

I resided in the city of Cross Roads.

Where were you born?

I was born in the city of Bluff Port, in the dukedom of Bluff Port.

Who are your parents?

My father was Master Sartorus, leader of the Guild hall in Bluff Port. My mother is Callendra. She still resides in Bluff Port.

And your father?

He was junior to Master Varus, who led a Guild company to destroy a band of outlaws operating between Saint’s Hope, North Field, and Rivertown. This was about six years ago. The strength of the outlaw band was underestimated, and the Guild force was ambushed. My father volunteered to remain behind to engage the outlaws so that the survivors could escape and obtain reinforcements. He was killed in battle.

And the outlaws?

Varus brought more men and killed them all. He was made Lord Master.

Let me state, for the record, that you are a woman. How many other women are members of the Slavers’ Guild?

I am... I was the only woman member of the Guild.

Tell me how it was that you came to be admitted.

I am my father’s only child. It is traditional that the children of those who achieve the rank of Master or higher be allowed to apply for apprenticeship. In addition, Lord Master Varus lobbied for my application. He argued that the best way to honor my father’s sacrifice was to admit me.

He and I had hoped I would make a name for myself, she thought. I truly have now. A name that will be a curse for all time. No doubt my father no longer speaks my name to the angels.

How old were you when you were admitted to the Guild?

Seventeen.

Is that the typical age of admission?

It is old. Some have been admitted at fourteen, but sixteen is the usual age.

Where did you serve your apprenticeship, and what did you do during that time?

Like all apprentices, my first two years were spent in Cross Roads. There I was trained to fight, both hand-to-hand and with ranged weapons. I was trained to control, manage, and appraise slaves. I was trained in accounting, negotiating, and the workings of markets. I learned to understand the status the Guild holds, the duties its members are expected to carry out, and how I might reflect that in my daily life.

Did you know any of these subjects before you were admitted?

I knew some, mainly from my father, and mainly the combat arts.

You said you were taught for two years. Then what happened?

In the third year, apprentices are sent to seven Guild halls for terms of fifty days each. Apprentices are given many mundane and dull tasks, such as cleaning the hall, cleaning the slave pens, linking and relinking chains, and so on.

Why?

To discern who will make a good Guild member. Even the lowest journeyman has status. However, much of the work is not exciting. The third year of apprenticeship is for the Guild to uncover who applied to become a member, and who applied merely to live well. Those who endure become journeymen; those who complain never enter the Guild.

How many are forced out during this third year?

It is not unusual for half of the apprentices in a given year to fail to become journeymen.

Did your being a woman affect your apprenticeship?

Not in my first two years. During my third year, three times I was asked if I would give sexual favors in exchange for easier duties. The first two times came from Masters, the last from an older journeyman.

And what was your response?

Cassia found herself smiling at the memories. I asked if it was normal for such requests to be made. If it was, I said that I would be willing to wait my turn, with the other apprentices. The Masters seemed pleased that I responded in such a manner.

And the journeyman?

He tried to threaten me into doing as he demanded. He said he would report me to the Master of the hall if I refused. I told him I would report him to Lord Master Varus, my father’s friend, if he insisted. He never spoke to me again.

She noticed that Bart had a small grin on his face. He moved the lever on the machine. Very brave of you, he said.

Thank you.

He moved the lever again. Cassia, how does a journeyman advance to Master?

When he has proven his ability to lead.

Is that all? Does it help to have friends or patrons?

Her voice lowered slightly. Yes. You must find Masters and perhaps a Lord Master willing to grant you special tasks, such as the one Varus gave to me to capture you. She paused. If these assignments go well, in time you are recommended for advancement to Master. If a majority of the Lord Masters and hall Masters approve, you are granted the rank of Master.

How does a Master advance to Lord Master?

No one advances to Lord Master until a serving Lord Master dies. The serving Lord Masters present candidates to the High Master. The High Master selects two names, and the one who wins a majority advances to Lord Master.

How does a Lord Master become High Master?

By vote of the Lord Masters and Masters, upon the death of the High Master.

You said that members of the Guild hold status in the Settled Domains. What is that status, exactly?

What do you mean?

What is the status relative to a member of the nobility?

The Lord Masters and High Master are the equals of any Duke.

How is that possible?

We are the one Guild that covers the entirety of the Settled Domains. Without us no work would get done. The quality of roads would vary from dukedom to dukedom. Many crops might not be harvested. Merchants on the roads would be under constant threat of robbery or high taxes.

Does the nobility accept this equal standing?

They must, or they might suffer.

Suffer?

The Guild maintains records on the nobility and other prominent men in the Main Hall at Cross Roads. The Guilds knows a great deal. It can reveal embarrassing secrets. It can pass information to disaffected lesser nobles wishing to oust those in power. As a last resort, the Guild is willing to force the removal of troublesome dukes and install more cooperative replacements.

These secrets, how are they obtained?

Reports from Masters and Lord Masters. Occasionally a slave might run away from a duke or other important family. Cassia glanced at the table for a moment. She heard her voice soften. It is Guild policy to question such slaves before returning them, assuming that their owner can provide proof of the loss.

Who knows of this policy?

It is a Guild secret. All that journeymen are told is to bring any escaped slave before the nearest hall Master or Lord Master. I only know of it through my father. It was something I overheard him say to another Master once.

What does the Guild do when dukedoms go to war with each other? Do they intervene? Do they not interfere?

The Guild will not interfere unless threatened.

How does the Guild define that threat?

She frowned. What do you mean?

Has the Guild ever defined a threat, shall we say, creatively? Found a grave threat where it was, at best, trivial?

At times, yes.

Such as?

When it seems in the interest of the Guild that one side triumphs over the other, or when one side might prove troublesome to the Guild should it triumph.

Even if that means aiding a duke who might be in the wrong?

The Guild looks to itself, Bart. If it did not we would be weak.

Bart moved the lever on the machine once it stopped making noise. Tell me, Cassia, have you been listening to yourself?

What do you mean?

You just told me that the Guild sometimes enters wars is may have no business entering, and deciding who wins or loses based on how it benefits. Before that, you said that the Guild keeps information on the nobility, and uses it against nobles that defy its power.

Is that not the way of things?

It is not. More importantly, a while ago you said that you were seventeen when you started as an apprentice, a year older than normal. Yet from all I have heard, you knew then more than the average journeyman would after years of work. You said that you were the only woman in the Guild. Did that make your apprenticeship easy or hard?

Hard. Very hard.

Were you judged upon your talents, your body, or who your father was?

My talents counted for very little. I was never considered very beautiful, so that mattered none at all. And yes, almost everyone said that had I not been Sartorus’ only child, I would not have been admitted.

Yet you are smart and had talent and ability. He let out a breath. Tell me, Cassia, what did Varus do to you when you were brought to him?

She sunk down in the chair. Must I?

Yes. For now I will leave the docugraph off. You will have to tell us, as we say, on the record, with the machine typing.

You may turn it on, Bart. But I shall not go into details.

Very well. He moved the lever. Cassia, you attempted to capture me, as the Blue Pistol, correct?

Correct.

You failed to do. At the time you were disguised as a slave, yes?

Yes.

I turned you over to fellow journeymen, as a slave, and told them to take you to the nearest Lord Master. Who was that Lord Master?

Varus. It was he who gave me the assignment of capturing you.

When you were brought before Varus, what did he do to you?

Cassia closed her eyes. She felt that she could not look at him and recall the horror of the last few days. She took a breath to steady her nerves. She opened her eyes and looked into part of the machine he had called the microphone.

"Varus’ father was acclaimed for extracting information from female slaves. A female would be secured to a table. Her legs were raised, spread apart, and the ankles fastened into stirrups. He would turn a wheel, and a metal pole would penetrate the female’s vagina.

There would never be permanent damage. Varus’ father had known that, unless the damage was healed, the device’s usefulness would be limited. Therefore healing potions were applied to any wounds so that the device could be used until the female gave the information that was needed.

And this is what Varus used on you?

Yes.

Did you talk?

I was a fool.

Meaning?

She closed her eyes. I told all knew of you as soon as I was strapped down. She wiped a tear from her eyes. Had I not been so fearful, I would have known that I would not be believed. But I could not help myself. She shook her head. I should have known better, but I could not stop myself. How could I have been so stupid?

How many times did Varus subject you to this... treatment?

Three times. I never changed what I said. I think the third time was not to get me to speak, but to punish me for having failed him.

After that, what did he do to you?

He forced himself onto me.

He raped you.

Yes. He told me that I had to be more pleasing. I think he meant to make me into his personal pleasure slave. At least, I hope that is what he meant for me.

I see. Bart moved the lever. I think that’s enough for now. I will let someone else take a more detailed account of what happened to you later.

Very well.

Cassia, you said Varus was punishing you. Tell me, what did you do to deserve punishment?

She looked him in the face. I failed to capture you.

Because I persuaded you to let me go?

No. Because I could not use your pistol.

Did you know that might happen before you met me?

Indeed not.

Did Varus think that something like that might happen?

No.

So, you did not really fail. I had an advantage that you nor Varus knew about. You were surprised by the unexpected.

So it seems.

Tell me, before you were asked to capture me, what were you doing?

Counting slaves in the Main Guild Hall in Cross Roads. Delivering messages.

Since you became a journeyman?

No, for the last year. My first year, I was assigned to the hall in Black Rapids.

Doing what?

Much the same as in Cross Roads, only I was not as busy there.

I see. Back to that mission Varus gave you. Had you been a man, and had failed to capture me, would Varus have used his torture device, or any other device, on that man?

Probably not.

What would have happened to that man?

At best he would have his name sent to the bottom of the advancement list. At worst, he would have been ousted from the Guild.

But not made into a slave?

No.

Not raped and tortured?

Indeed not.

Yet it would seem that, because you were a woman, you were subject to rape, torture, and enslavement. And by the man who owed his life to your father, yes?

What do you mean by all this?

Cassia, you have come a place where the road of your life can go in two directions. Where you go depends on what you choose to do.

What is this choice?

You can choose to see what you were. Your profession was the buying and selling of other people. You treated people as property, simply because they had a collar around their neck.

What of it? It is not illegal.

So, you welcomed the prospect of being Varus’ slave.

No. I was not born a slave.

Neither are the boys and girls whose parents have to sell them into slavery to afford to feed their other children. Does that make them any better as slaves?

No.

If you did not like being a slave, and did not wish to become one, then why should you want others to be slaves?

Cassia paused when she heard the question. It was notion that she had never considered. Slavery was important to society. The Guild existed to establish rules for the slave trade, to assure fair prices, and to maintain a constant supply of slaves. This need made the Guild important, and earned it and its members certain privileges. But that was how the world worked.

Yet she had to admit that being a slave had been a horrible experience. Bart’s appearance in Varus’ manor and his killing of the Lord Master had filled her with some feeling of relief, precisely because those actions promised to liberate her from slavery. The prospect of forever being a slave filled her with dread; the prospect that she might not remain a slave was a hope she clung to.

Bart’s question also made her recall the times she had been uncomfortable watching other journeymen amuse themselves with female slaves. She had noted that they seemed do things to those slaves that they would never even request from a wife or a marriage prospect. More than once she had seen them enjoy sex with the slave, then insult the girl later on when she did not move fast enough or clean as thoroughly as they demanded. She had seen the contradiction in those actions, but had never thought to question that obvious contradiction.

She happened to look at the docugraph. She stared at it for a moment, then looked at Bart. That machine, she said, is it unusual for this place?

He shook his head and shrugged. Not really. This nation has many such devices that combine magic and science.

Do these machines mean that you have no need for slaves?

Yes, to some degree.

But not completely?

There are jobs here that still must be done with manual labor.

Then what do you use instead of slaves?

People. Instead of slaves, people are hired and paid for their work.

Such as a merchant hiring guards to assist him in getting goods safely from one town to another.

Precisely so. Paying people means that, if they worker harder, they can get paid more. A hired worker has rights, while a slave is property. Slaves are only loyal if they beaten down. A hired worker will be loyal so long as he is paid and respected. A hired worker has the chance to save money for a better life, or even to rise in status to become someone who hires others. A slave has no chance for such betterment unless they are freed from slavery.

Cassia thought over what Bart said. It made sense to her, now that it had been presented to her in that way. It also made clearer the concerns she had before and the observations she had made. It did not yet illuminate the choice she had that he had spoken of earlier, but she was beginning to see how it might.

You mentioned that I had a choice to make, Bart. What is that choice?

As I said, you can understand what you were before I brought you here. You can also understand what happened to you. Ask yourself if you owe any loyalty to those who would not judge you as who you were, but only saw you as a woman. Ask yourself if you liked how you were treated, and if you did not, what you ought to do about it.

You mean, if I am unhappy about how I was treated, I should fight the Guild?

There are other ways for you to avenge your mistreatment at their hands.

What is my other option?

We have places here called prisons, where we confine our criminals. Their lives are spent mostly in a room like the one we’ve had you in. You would get three meals a day, a hour of exercise, and spend the rest of your time in your room, or your prison cell, as we call it.

For how long?

For the rest of your life. We have a prison where female criminals are kept. That is where you would be sent. If it does not sound so bad, think about it. You would not be taught to read or speak English. You would have to try to learn it on your own. That means that any books in the prison library would be useless to you. That means that you might not hear the other prisoners planning to harm you. You would not even know if they were mocking you. You would never amount to anything, you would never make the Guild pay for what was done to you, and you would never prove that you are more that just a foolish young woman.

Cassia could not help but shudder. It was not the statements he made about life in prison that disturbed her. It was instead the prospect of being alone for the rest of her life, with all the time in the world to think. While Varus’ abuse was painful, it was the time between, when he kept her isolated, that made the experience so unbearable. It was the time alone this morning, in the room, that had made her so nervous about what was to come from Bart and his friends.

I could not face life isolated like that, she thought. I would drive myself mad, thinking about the mistakes I made. I could withstand everything else, but not that.

I do think I could live my life in your prison, she said slowly, but I do not believe that you would, after such a short time, hand me one of your guns and allow me to fight the Guild.

Nor should you, Bart replied. There are methods of resistance and revenge that do not involve that sort of trust.

Like what?

You spent a year in Black Rapids, Cassia. You must know something about the Guild there. Is the Master of the hall a bad-tempered oaf?

No. She took in a breath. But Master Tarkus, who runs the hall in Clear View, does have temper. She glanced at the table, and felt herself smile. He was posted there because not even his friend and patron, Lord Master Septimus, can stand him for very long.

What else do you know about Clear View?

There is a new, young Duke, Avitus. Tarkus believes that his father, Duke Albanius, may have fathered a child with a slave.

What of it?

There are rumors that the slave is treated quite well, perhaps even taught like a free child. It is also said that the child, a girl, looks very much like Avitus and his sister. Tarkus believes the slave knows some family secret.

What sort of secret? Was there a scandal in the ducal family?

No, but since Albanius’ father’s time, the family has lost several children at young ages. There is speculation of a curse, or some other trouble. Tarkus believes the slave girl is the family’s answer to these tragedies. He has promised the Lord Masters that if she leaves the dukedom, he will send word so that she may be taken into custody and questioned.

Bart smiled. Interesting. Well, Cassia, that was your first act of defiance.

Telling you these rumors?

Indeed. You have told me secrets that might help our effort to bring down the Guild. Give us more helpful information, and you will earn our trust. The more trust you earn, the better your life can be. You can be paid, allowed to live on your own in a nice place, make friends, perhaps even start a family.

It begins like that?

If you so choose. But you must make that choice. You must decide if you like the person that you were and the life you led. You must decide if you want to change where you have been going. You have to decide if you will defy what you were, or accept what you were.

To accept means prison, and to reject means the promise of a better life?

Exactly.

She paused for a moment. "I am not certain I can defy who I was. You have told me many things about this place. I would like to have proof, but I know I cannot demand it.

"More to the point, I know that spending my life in prison would break me. Not because of anything you could do to me, or anything that anyone could do to