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murmured. “Well, get dressed then, I will be waiting down the hall” leaving her thus alone so she could dress in private. Surprised, Sinja watched him as he left, the thought that her owner was behaving more like a host, even a lover, shot through her head, but perhaps he just wanted to soften her up with kindness. The phrase sex slave leapt to mind, but if she was completely honest there were worse things, and maybe with a man like him... She immediately suppressed such thoughts; a man like him certainly had no need to buy a woman for such pleasures. She found dressing a little difficult, as she wasn’t familiar with wrap blouses or this kind of skirt. She fumbled nervously with the straps and hopelessly entangled them, constantly aware that her master was waiting in the hall. At some point his patience would also be at an end and for her first day she had not exactly covered herself in glory.
The clothes finally held in place and she stormed barefoot with tousled hair out of the room only to almost stumble over Mika laying directly in front of the door. He jumped up with a low growl, but upon recognising her snuggled his huge head against her legs. Sinja swallowed her fear and stroked him gently on the back, and then went carefully around him. She in no case wanted her master to wait even longer. He was standing in the hall as he had said, and looked toward her. She couldn’t read his eyes, and as he said nothing, she thought he must be angry with her. Quickly she knelt before him and lowered her eyes in the quiet hope of encouraging his mercy, but again he surprised her with his behaviour, taking her by the shoulders and pulling her onto her feet. “Why do you keep doing that?” he inquired. “I kept you waiting, which is not appropriate for a slave. I was hoping to appease you” she answered honestly. Artyom took a deep breath and shook his head again. She didn’t know him, and wasn’t aware that she only made him angry with such gestures. In his opinion, no one had the right to force anyone to their knees. Should she ever voluntarily submit and kneel before him, well, that was entirely a different matter. “You are so tiny, if I do not wish to wait for you, I will just pick you up and take you with me” he replied with a quick smirk. She looked at him terrified, trying to judge whether he was really serious. Unfortunately, the grin was already gone, so Sinja believed he could indeed behave that way.
“Let us go to the dining room, I am definitely hungry, and you look as if you were starving” he suggested. He gently turned her round and put an arm around her shoulders. They went together to one of the dark corridors, Sinja allowing herself to be led by her master. Just before they entered the hall, Artyom took a flaming torch from the wall. With the light she could see there were also many rooms here. She wondered whether anyone really needed so many rooms and whether they could ever use them all. She did not of course dare to speak the question aloud. He finally opened a door and she saw that behind it was the kitchen. The four women who worked in this area immediately welcomed their master, but the nomad noticed with further amazement that their tone was pleasant and amicable. Artyom had a kind word for each, then introduced her, saying simply “This is Sinja.” More about her, or how he had acquired her, remained unsaid. However, no one asked either, and the women simply smiled at her and then went back to their work. “Bring us something to eat please” her master asked politely, leaving the kitchen again. He led her back into the dark passage, but put the torch back in the wall bracket and opened the directly adjoining door. “The dining rooms are normally on the upper floors, but I do not like that.” he said, “I would rather enjoy my food warm” and brought them into the dining room. Curiously, Sinja looked around, and was again astonished by the sheer size, as judging from this room her master must often have many guests. There was a huge table, with places for at least twenty people, with matching chairs from a dark wood which even she as a nomad didn’t recognise. This room was also lit by torches, and the walls were hewn directly into the rock of the Iron Mountains. A sideboard in the same dark wood stood at the other end of the dining room, otherwise there was only a connecting door to the kitchen. Artyom led Sinja to the table and indicated a chair, pushing it gallantly beneath her as she sat down. He himself chose to sit beside her, then looked at the clock and smiled; due to his trip to the slave market he was later than usual. They did not have to wait long before the door opened and the servants brought in the food. One servant laid out plates and cutlery, while the others placed platters and bowls on the table. Embarrassed, Sinja stared straight ahead at the table; it was her duty to serve her master, not to be served herself. At least that’s what they had beaten into her. Quite lost in thought remembering her abduction, she didn’t even notice when the women left the room again.
Artyom tapped her lightly on the arm and held a plate of juicy pieces of meat under her nose. “You look hungry, you should eat something” he suggested. Hesitantly, she nodded and took a small piece of meat, which already had her mouth watering. Then her master gave her a bowl of potatoes, and another with vegetables. Encouraged, she dug into the rich meal with gusto, especially after the long period where there had been nothing but bread and water. It was delicious, but she had to keep looking at her strange new master who seemed so cold and merciless on the outside. “Everything alright?” inquired Artyom politely as he saw she was looking thoughtfully at him instead of eating. She nodded quickly, gave him a shy smile, and turned to the vegetables on her plate while pondering over whether to simply ask him what her task here was actually meant to be. It certainly didn’t seem as if that would be a problem for him.
After a while she summoned all her courage and gently touched him on the upper arm. He was now wearing a kaftan in black, matching pants, and his boots. “May I ask a question?” she began shyly. He nodded casually and looked at her attentively. “What task do you intend for me?” she asked. “I do not yet know, first of all you need to get used to living here” he evaded. She bowed her head back with a sigh and stared at her plate, this uncertainty was indeed disturbing. So far, everything had happened differently to what she had feared, but there had to be a catch somewhere; this man had surely not just bought her for a laugh. When he had finished eating he laid his cutlery to the side, Sinja following his example. She remembered her lesson from the slave traders far too clearly, and would not allow herself to continue eating. Artyom looked at her with a frown, then at her plate. “What is the problem rose of the steppe? You have hardly eaten anything, are you really telling me you are not hungry after the last few days?” he inquired suspiciously. She quickly shook her head, not daring to look at him. “No master, that would be lying, and lying is not my way, but you have finished your meal, so I have no right to eat more” she hastily replied. He cursed quietly, those damned bastards had done a good job, and it would take quite some time before he could get her to behave normally. “I remember commanding you to forget those rules. They do not apply here, so do us both a favour and clear your plate” he ordered strictly. She obeyed instantly but rushed so much that she choked. Coughing, with tears in her eyes, she struggled for air. Concerned, he slapped her on the back and handed her a glass of water. “Are you alright?” he asked anxiously, as she began to breath normally again. “Yes, thank you, and, I’m sorry, I’m not actually that clumsy” she mumbled. Without looking back at him she took up her cutlery again to eat more, but he put a hand on her arm. “Please take your time, there is no reason to wolf it down like that. I am not going to take it away again” he reassured her. Embarrassed Sinja nodded, but inwardly cringed, as she had only rushed so he didn’t have to wait for her. Now he not only considered her clumsy, but greedy as well. No wonder he didn’t know what job he wanted to give her. The way she was presenting herself she wasn’t good for anything.
She finished her meal rather more moderately, and then collected the dishes together. “May I take them to the kitchen?” she asked softly. “No” her master blocked with an unfriendly tone “that is not your task.” Concerned, she looked down again into her lap, where she folded her fingers together. It was clear he didn’t even want to use her for this simple task if she acted that stupidly. Artyom stood and offered her a hand. “Come along, I am taking you to Darina.” Frightened, she stood and shyly took his hand, which despite everything still gave her courage somehow, but inwardly she was shaking with fear again as she didn’t know who this Darina was. Would he sell her again that quickly? Or was this woman responsible for punishing the slaves? He led them from the dining room, took the torch from the wall again, and clasped her hand in his. Hesitant and fearful she went with him, all the while praying he would at least keep her. Artyom looked thoughtfully down at her a few times, but said nothing, just his thumb tenderly stroking the back of her hand, which confused her even more.
They went back into the great hall, and from there he turned right into the next corridor. They walked quite some distance before he opened a door and she saw some servants sewing and mending clothes. “Darina, this is Sinja” he introduced her. The nomad curtsied before the older woman and immediately lowered her head, so she didn’t see how the two exchanged compassionate glances. “It’s alright to look at me dearest, I’m Darina, and I belong to Artyom too, just like you” the servant told her encouragingly. Confused by the friendly manner, Sinja looked up to her questioningly. She could make neither rhyme nor reason of all this, and wished her master would explain this behaviour to her. She pushed the thought quickly aside; he didn’t have to tell her anything. “Come over here Sinja, and I’ll take your measurements so we can sew you some clothes in our house colours” the seamstress explained. Artyom let go of her hand and she took two steps into the room. Darina asked her to raise her arms, turn, and stretch, noting down everything she needed. This surprised the little nomad as her master had said he wanted to buy her clothes on the market. She raised her eyebrows at him questioningly; she didn’t understand anything about this place. Seeing her perplexed expression Artyom explained; “You need clothes in my house colours; they will protect you if you leave these walls. No one would dare to touch my property. However, tomorrow we will get some other clothes, underwear and fabrics, but here among
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