Slave-Girl of the Dragon Rider by Lisa Skydla (most popular novels txt) 📕

heavily on her shoulders and turned her around to face him. His eyes drilled into hers, and he simply held her, seeming to be trying to read her. He finally let go and gently removed the iron collar, throwing it heedlessly into a corner as if repelled by such restraint. Still he did not speak, unsettling her again, but she had herself under control and met his gaze fearlessly. He slowly raised his hands to her neck, his fingers delicately gliding over the chaffed areas while reciting a strange chant, gently touching each wound, and Sinja could feel how the skin closed. Then he did the same with the broken skin on her wrists and ankles. With a flash she realised he was a healer, but that just wasn’t possible. Dragon riders were always warriors, and not capable of magic, at least that was what she had learnt, but then, how should she know? Up to now she’d never met a dragon, or its rider. “You’re a healer” she whispered in amazement. Artyom gently raised a finger to his lips, staring intently back at her, whispered softly “Not everything has to be spoken aloud.” Sinja nodded understandingly, making a mental note to guard his secrets as if they were her own, wanting to give him no reason to sell her again.
“There is someone else I want you to meet” he said, and let out a shrill whistle. She looked around nervously, but it was impossible to keep an eye on all the corridors. A chrischnik suddenly appeared lithely from a corridor to her left, striding majestically toward the dragon rider without the slightest sound. Sinja again felt the urge to run away, a chrischnik was a very dangerous predator, and she had lost quite a few yakutas to these hunters, and yet she couldn’t help but admire his beautiful coat, glistening in the torchlight. He had the typical dark blue and silver stripes to disguise himself perfectly at night on the steppe; at the moment he had his claws drawn in, and his tail twitched just a little restlessly as he padded unhesitatingly to his master. Afraid, Sinja clung to Artyom’s cape, not letting the huge carnivore out of her sight. This specimen came up to her waist, average for a chrischnik, but it was fascinating to see him up so close.
“This is Mika; I saved him as a kit from his owner, who wanted to drown him” her master related softly. Yet another facet to this dragon rider she had not expected, her respect for the man was growing by the minute. Mika had now reached his master, nuzzling his big head against Artyom’s legs, almost pushing him over. “Slow down boy” he greeted Mika with a smile, scratching him extensively behind the ears. “Say hello to your new mistress” he whispered to the animal, which immediately turned to Sinja. She looked with incredulous doubt at the pair, unable to make the slightest movement. Rooted to the spot, she simply stood as the chrischnik turned to look toward her through eyes flickering green in the torchlight. His gaze was curious, but not aggressive, and she lost some of her fear. With a faint whimper the chrischnik licked her hand; Sinja winced fearfully, and retreated a step. “He will not hurt you” sounded Artyom’s voice. Sinja looked at him, trembling, and swallowed, hard. “Mika, you can see she is afraid of you. Give her a couple of days, then she will play with you” the dragon rider admonished. Hanging his head, the animal turned and disappeared again down one of the corridors. Only now could the little nomad stop shaking, and looked gratefully up to her master. “Thank you master, I was really afraid of him” she whispered, cowering. “You will get used to him; he is actually just a big smooch” Artyom predicted with an almost imperceptible smile.
“Come, let me show you to your room” he suddenly exclaimed, offering her his hand. Another surprise, as she hadn’t expected a separate room; with a little hesitation she took his hand and he pulled her for a brief moment to him, his bare arms closing around her and she realised it felt, strangely, reassuring. Far too quickly he let her go again, intertwining his fingers with hers, and turned toward the stairs climbing up directly before them. They went up past several doors until he stopped and opened a room for them. Courteously, he let ladies go first. “This is your room for the time being, where you can have some space” he informed her. She had expected many things, but never such a beautiful room, and all to herself? She entered, astonished, doing a little turn on the spot. Against the back wall was a big, white, four-poster bed with matching canopy, and bedside table in the same white, with light blue ornaments matching those on the bed frame; a wardrobe and desk with chair completing the furnishings. It was a corner room, and so there were windows looking out onto the city, and others onto the steppe over the first rocks of the mountains. “Should you need anything, just let me know” boomed Artyom, and left her alone in her tiny empire.  Chapter 2 - Palace of the Dragon Rider

 Sinja could not believe her luck; she had never had such a room, particularly not travelling with her family over the steppe. Tears came to her eyes as her thoughts moved in that direction, realising it was actually just a gilded cage, and she would never be free again. The images of her slain relatives also tortured her repeatedly. She looked thoroughly around the room to distract herself, and discovered there was even a balcony. Delighted she tried to open the door, but it was locked. She sank gloomily into the chair and tried to control her tears. Crying would get her nowhere, no matter how miserable she felt, and she had been lucky, or at least so it seemed at the moment. Tired, she put her head in her hands and wondered what to do next. Her master definitely expected something from her, she just didn’t know what. She looked around the room again uncertainly, would have liked to settle into the white bed sheets and just fall asleep, but she was still completely covered in filth. She glanced around searching, and noticed another door. Curious, she stood and pushed the handle, relieved to find the door opened easily. Behind was a bathroom with a large tub, double washbasin, and even a toilet. Sinja had never known such luxury before, but she would still have liked to turn back time, were it only possible. She wondered for a moment whether her new master would be very angry if she used the tub, on the way to the city they had beaten into her that she was worthless, with corresponding lack of rights.
Sinja was still staring longingly at the bathtub when the opposite door opened and in walked Artyom. He looked at her with surprise, and gestured welcomingly toward the tub, which had already been filled with warm water. “You go first” he offered politely. “No master, that’s not right” she immediately blocked, “I’ll go to the other slaves and wash myself there, if you don’t mind.” With a single long stride he was by her, and carefully took her wrist. “Stay here” he ordered, firmly. Sinja acknowledged, bowing her head instantly and allowed herself to be drawn further into the bathroom. He stopped in front of a cabinet and opened the doors. “You will find everything you need in here” he informed her. Besides towels, she was amazed to see a multitude of soaps. The art of soap making was highly prized, and a bar of soap was correspondingly precious. She realised once again that her master really must have a lot of money, which in turn meant he must be in the ruler’s favour, as he could only get such wealth from there. He took her firmly under the chin and turned her to look at him. “You will use it, and when you are done, come to my bedroom” he ordered coldly. Intimidated, she nodded, and wanted to turn to the bath, but instead turned back to him. “But master, where is your room?” she asked uncertainly. Without averting his gaze, he pointed to the door through which he had come. “Thank you master” she muttered and went finally over to the tub, not noticing as Artyom left the room.
Completely confused by his behaviour, she had completely forgotten to take what she needed. She turned quickly back again to choose one of the soaps. Among the many bars she found one with the scent of the Rose of the Steppe; this flower blossomed only once in five years, exuding a beguiling scent which awakened a longing for love in any human being. At least, that’s what the sages had said. She herself had only seen such a flower once. It had been a special kind of experience, the moon beaming turquoise over the steppe as the rose opened its blossoms. The outer leaves were so deeply red they looked almost black, but she had immediately noticed the inner petals, golden, and glowing; the entire flower was lit up from inside. Sinja became lost in thought in the bathroom, remembering that wonderful night, but then forced herself back to the present. She did not want to annoy her master by keeping him waiting. With forethought, she laid out a bath towel, then quickly climbed into the hot water and scrubbed the dirt from her skin, also washing her long jet black hair until it squeaked cleanly between her fingers. With slight regret, she left the tub, wrapped herself in the towel, and took another to wrap around her hair. She put the soap carefully back in the cabinet and looked for a bucket to empty the tub. Finding nothing, she shrugged her shoulders; the dragon rider would surely not kill her because she had found no way to dispose of the dirty water. She looked with disgust at her clothes, still sullied by the blood of the zjerta, stinking terribly, with many rips and stains. It was of course not an option to ask her new master for new clothes, but she decided it was probably better to ask permission first before she washed them. He seemed to be fair, with some compassion, at least, as far as she could tell, but she still didn’t know what he intended to do with her.
Sinja quickly towelled her hair, so well it was soon already dry, then wiped over her footsteps with the damp towel and hung it up to dry; she would wash it later together with her things, if she was allowed. With heart pounding and knees weak she ran timidly to the door through which her master had gone, and knocked. A dark “come in” rang out, and she needed all her courage to obey the command, but there was no other option, so she opened the door, took two steps into the room, and stood with head bowed, wanting at this crucial moment to do everything right, not even attempting to look