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Cold Blood - Green Fields

by Onyx Tao

[This story is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution Noncommercial Share Alike 3.0 License](%5C)

Copyright 2007 by Onyx Tao

The food was good, if dull. Today it was was oatmeal, hot, with honey (or the minotaurs used something like honey), with dried fruit, just like it had been since the legionnaires had been taken prisoner. Captured. Or, depending on how you looked at, rescued from the wolven. Erik recognized apricots as one of the fine-chopped fruits, even if he wasn't sure of the others. The march in to Maze, as prisoners, had been rough - they'd slept on the ground, but their captors had supplied blankets. They'd even camped early at the base of the Howling Mountains, so they could get through the pass that day, and that night, they'd stayed in a barracks complete with cots - huge cots, intended for minotaurs, and they had to sleep two to a cot.

It was better than Erik had expected, and much better than being butchered by wolven.

Maze - the capitol city of the minotaurs, had been disheartening. Erik had felt that way once before, when he'd come from the north and joined the Imperial Legions and marched through Dioclepia, home of the Emperor. He hadn't seen any of the palaces or the fine temples, not close up, but he'd felt a burning sense of inadequacy at the stone-lined streets. Even the roads in the Empire were stone-paved, blocks of granite carted and positioned to make travel for the legions easy. Towering columns of stone and triumphal arches and even the plumbing of the bathhouses had made him feel like a backward, ignorant farmboy, and his fair coloring hadn't helped him to blend in. Three years in the southern sun had given him the same deep bronze color as the southerners - or at least, enough color not to be taunted, but his light yellow hair had faded even as his skin had darkened. If he'd been as smooth as the southerners, it might not have been so bad, but even for a northerner he'd been hairy. Now he looked like some kind of bear that had been dipped in bleaching solution.

He wasn't sure if Maze was doing that to his comrades - or rather, fellow prisoners. None of them were from the Eagle Legion, and he didn't know them, but ... Maze made Dioclepia look like a provincial backwater. Maze was bigger, built along a series of cliffs, and he counted some twelve different levels as their little contingent walked in. The road itself was heavily trafficked, huge carts laden with provender creaking into the city, and full carts coming back, burdened with cloth-covered loads, all pulled by huge draft horses large enough for a minotaur to ride (although the minotaurs did not appear to ride them).

The road, from the Howling Mountains to Maze, was stone, but not the granite the Empire used. And even the Empire used local stone, which, as the miles passed, changed as the quarries did. Whatever the minotaurs used was a soft, unchanging beige, which had tiny lines cut into it to channel water to the side, as the stone wasn't perfectly flat, but subtly convex. Gutters lined the road, and Erik had no doubt that the weather would have to be truly terrible before these roads were impassible. The road was laid in blocks, each about forty-two paces long before it ended and another began.

The walls of Maze had to be almost four stories high, seemingly of pink and green veined marble polished to a smooth shine, although Erik guessed they were a mere facade against some harder material. They were coming down to the city, so they had a fine vantage over the walls. The buildings inside appeared lined with the same marble as the walls. The streets were twisted - almost braided; no long avenues cut through the city that Erik could see. The few streets he could see stretched for only short distances before they vanished again. Maze looked like a solid mass of fluted towers and domes and walls impossibly draped against a backdrop of cliffs; the city crawling up the steep slopes and across the plateaus with equal ease.

They entered through a huge arch in the wall, and dove almost immediately into the vast metropolis of Maze. Erik got lost almost immediately, as they walked through arches and tunnels, into open spaces - parks, he thought. They walked through a final short tunnel, and the lead minotaur called out something in Greek that Erik couldn't follow.

The minotaur waited for a moment, and then spoke again, in slightly accented Latin. "If you don't understand Greek, go to the left." Erik watched as most of his fellows walked over to the right; he followed about seven others to the left. Most of the human guards followed the first group. Presumably they thought that two minotaurs could handle eight prisoners, and from what Erik had seen at Mog Ford, he could not disagree. They quickly herded the prisoners into a small group, with one minotaur leading, and one following. A couple of corridors and stairs down, they entered a room filled with what looked like heavy iron - iron! - bars blocking off about twelve small rooms, each with a minotaur-sized cot and a small chamberpot.

Once the two had locked each one into a cell, they turned and left. The prisoners started talking, exchanging wild guesses about what the minotaurs did with captured humans. The conversation got wilder and wilder, until a deep voice interrupted them.

"No, actually," it said, and all of them jumped. A brown minotaur stood in the room. Although he was short compared to the others, he was broader - much broader, with long horns curled slightly forward. "None of that." His Latin was perfect; he glanced around the room. "Nothing so exotic. Or bizarre." He glanced at each of them, his eyes lingering on none of them. "As captured prisoners of war, you'll be sold as slaves. Since you don't speak Greek, you're likely to end up field workers."

He unlocked the first cell. "Still. Each one of you will be given an inspection to see if there's something better. One at a time. You. Come." The man followed the minotaur, glancing back once until the minotaur lightly pushed him forward. "You might see them again. You might not."

"He won't be coming back," the minotaur said looking back at them, before he closed the door. Erik stared at the door intently; he'd watched the two who had locked him up carefully. They'd closed the door, and ... how had he missed the minotaur's entrance? The others were subdued; he wasn't sure if was from knowing what would happen, or the uncanny way the minotaur had announced it.

Two humans - who apparently spoke no Greek at all - came about a quarter-bell later, and delivered bread-bowls of stew. This time, Erik saw the door open, and watched them come in, distribute the food, and leave, with the one remaining bread loaf. He ate his thoughtfully, and waited.

The light from the slit-window dimmed, and that, along with dinner, seemed like a general signal for them to roll over onto the cots. Erik woke once during the night, to watch the squat brown minotaur take another warrior away. He wasn't sure if the others heard, or even woke up, and the creature was surprisingly quiet. The man - Jer - went along him.

Erik snorted to himself. Of course he had. A minotaur was nearly five times as strong as human. They'd had a brutal lesson in that just a few days ago. None of them were eager to challenge one. Field slave. Not, Erik reflected, a very flattering assessment. At least it would make escaping easy, once he figured out how to get back to the Empire.

Morning found the remaining four subdued, as apparently the minotaur had returned for another one as well. Breakfast was the fruit and nut oatmeal, and lump of scrambled eggs on day-old bread.

When the minotaur came, halfway through breakfast, he shook his head. "You," he said, pointing at Erik, who had finished most of his food. "You're done, or close enough. Come with me." He unlocked the door, and, making sure Erik was following him, walked out, locking the door behind him.

"Where ..." started Erik, but the minotaur cut him off.

"You'll find out," the minotaur said in a bored voice. "Come on."

Several corridors and a set of stairs away was a large, almost empty room. Other than the desk, and a cream-colored minotaur sitting behind it, the only other thing of interest in the room was the immense skylight, which flooded the room with a bright, even light that caused Erik's eyes to wander.

The cream-colored minotaur said something in Greek, and then continued in Latin. "Turn around."

Erik just stood there, distracted by the odd bells, until the other minotaur put a hand on his shoulder. "Turn around."

He did, feeling stupid.

More Greek back and forth, and then the cream-colored one shook his head. "Nothing," he said, and then more Greek, and the brown minotaur nodded.

"Lucky you," the minotaur said. "Come on. This way."

"Did he decide something?"

"Yes," the minotaur said. "He's going to offer you to Lord Green. If he declines, then you'll go to market. Come on."

The minotaur showed him to another cell, only a corridor away, a stone room with a stone door, with a cot and some odd plumbing fixtures. He recognized the sink, but where he'd expect a pump there was just a knob. The minotaur quickly showed him how the sink worked, and then how the water-chamberpot worked. "You might be here for a week, maybe two," he said.

"That sounds long," Erik said.

The minotaur shrugged. "There are a lot of feral humans going on the market right now. Anyway, Lord Green gets first refusal." He started to close the door.

"Wait - why, why would Lord Green be interested in me?"

The minotaur paused, considering. "He probably won't be, since you don't speak Greek. But if he is, it's because you're not so hairless as most humans. You look like you've almost got a decent pelt, and it's a pretty color. It might even interest him in a feral human that .."

"Feral!"

"Feral," repeated the minotaur, and for the first time, Erik heard frustration in the creature's basso profundo voice. "As in, pretty much worthless. You don't know how to behave, you don't speak Greek, and you're so ignorant indoor plumbing is a mystery. Useless. Whoever buys you will have to train you, and if you're like most ferals, you'll do everything you can to fight learning anything. Why Lord Fog didn't turn you over to the wolven I can't imagine."

The door closed, and Erik heard a click of a lock.

"No, tell me you how you really feel," muttered Erik on the other side of the locked door. He thought for a minute, and then yelled "So why did you bother taking us prisoner in the first place, asshole?"

Food came regularly, the oatmeal for breakfast, raw greens and onions for lunch, and the bread and stew at dinner. The human who delivered the food either didn't understand Latin, or at least pretended he didn't, and the only thing Erik could do was lay back and wait. It wouldn't take him long to learn Greek, he thought, he'd learned Latin fast enough. And after that ...

He'd been confined to the cell for almost four days when it opened - it was around lunchtime, and he'd been expecting the greens. Instead, the squat brown minotaur stood there. "Get out here," he said.

"Why?"

The minotaur just shook his head, and said something in Greek. Another minotaur walked over - without a doubt the tallest Erik had ever seen, with a glossy black pelt and short, heavy horns. "Doesn't speak Greek, you say," and his Latin, unlike the first one's, was lilting with a Greek accent.

"No, Lord Green."

"Still," the other said considering.

"He's feral, Lord Green, and you heard what he just said."

"Eh," the black one said dismissively. "That can be changed." He looked at Erik for a moment. "Human. Get out here."

Erik paused before obeying, considering the potential of what might happen - and was not at all ready for what happened. Something grabbed him, like a cat might grab a mouse, and hauled him outside.

"See?" grunted the black minotaur.

"Not all of us have your advantages, Lord Green."

"Take those clothes off," the black minotaur ordered. Erik started to comply, but the minotaur, growing impatient, made an off-hand gesture. Something he couldn't feel reduced his shirt and trowsers to rags, which spilled quickly back into the tiny cell. He stared back in shock at the glossy black minotaur. "Stand straight."

He did, feeling horribly exposed. He wasn't sure where to put his hands - the last thing he wanted to do was ...

"Clasp your hands directly behind your head," the black minotaur instructed with a hint of irritation. Erik swallowed his anger and did so, submitting to the humiliating gaze of the minotaur.

"Feral, Lord Green," the other said. "I don't see why ..."

"Because the pelt coloration is attractive," the black minotaur interrupted. "It's unusual. And Ruus is generally worth listening to." The minotaur turned from his inspection of Erik to face the brown minotaur directly. "And his apprentice should be more respectful of his master."

"Yes, Lord Green," the other said, more quietly. "Your pardon."

"It's not mine you need," the minotaur said, returning his attention to the human. The minotaur paced once around him. "Good form," he said, after a moment. "Ectomorph in high condition. I could probably show this one, with a little work."

"Show me what?" asked Erik.

The brown minotaur snorted while the black one looked ... irritated. Something locked Erik's jaws together.

"He can be trained," the black minotaur said.

Erik twitched at that, although he couldn't say anything.

"See?" the black one continued. "He's learning even now." He took a breath. "I am Xavien, Lord Green, human. You will address me as 'Master'. This is Trand; you will address him as 'Sir.' You will comply immediately, to the best of your ability, with any instruction you are given. You will speak when addressed, and only when addressed. Failure to comply will result in a ... learning experience. Is that clear?"

The pressure on his jaw hadn't let up, so Erik just nodded.

"Good." The minotaur - Lord Green, Erik corrected himself - paused. "Kneel. Hands down - behind your back. Clasped. Yes."

The pressure on Erik's jaw eased, and then vanished.

"See?" repeated Lord Green. "He can obey."

"Yes, Lord Green," but Trand sounded dubious.

With two short steps, the black minotaur was behind Erik; a massive hand rested lightly on his head, and the other. "Compliance brings rewards." Erik felt a soft warmth run through him - like someone was filling him with thick, hot honey. It felt ... good, like sunlight on bare skin, only this was shining from the inside rather than the out. It -dripped, somehow, through him, caressing the inside of skin.

"Lord Green!" Trand's voice, Erik noted in some detached corner of his mind, sounded upset. The human wondered why; and then he stopped wondering as the warm thick feeling spread completely over him. The sensation built, slowly, inexorably, and Erik stopped even thinking about it. When Lord Green bent to pick him up, Erik leaped hungrily into the minotaur's embrace. His own maleness was hard, and trapped between the glossy black pelt and his own stomach. He needed ... he groaned in frustration. He needed something, like water for a burning thirst, or an itch that was driving him mad. And the feeling just built, and built, and built, aching for ... something.

"Please," he whimpered, not caring about how he sounded. He just needed ...

Lord Green held him a bit farther away. "I told you how to address me, slave," he said coldly.

"Master," Erik said suddenly, remembering. "Please, Master. Please ..."

"Better," grunted the minotaur, pulling the human back. "We'll deal with that little lapse later. Now. Do you want something, slave?"

"Yes, Master," said Erik, almost sobbing from the dull driving need.

"Beg."

"Please, Master, I ... I" Erik faltered. "I ... please! Master!"

"You don't know what you want, do you," said Lord Green with a chuckle. Trand said something, but Erik ignored it entirely. Whatever it was, whatever was driving him like this, was centered on the huge black minotaur ... Erik tried to tighten his own grasp, to pull the minotaur closer, or him closer to the source of his growing frustration.

"It's easier on a feral human to learn quickly," Lord Green said, something that made no sense even when Erik realized the minotaur was answering Trand. There was a soft popping sound. Lord Green shifted Erik's legs around his torso. Erik gasped as he felt the tip of the minotaur's huge shaft touch his pucker. The contact, light as it was, sent another wave of warmth exploding through him - and need. Erik instinctively started to push himself down onto Lord Green. Some remaining fraction of his mind stopped him, vaguely remembering ...

Another wave of agonizingly pleasant need washed through him, and Erik pushed himself down onto the huge minotaur. It hurt; the burning sent a shock through him that almost dispelled the golden haze that danced around his senses. But in another moment, he realized that this was what he needed so badly. The warmth that flowed from the minotaur into him was everything; the male that held him was his master, more than that, his very reason for being and now, now he had been permitted to please himself by pleasing his master. Erik moaned, trying to drive himself down, bring the minotaur deeper into him. The pain was a tiny thing, nothing, weighed against the sheer joy of having the minotaur deep inside him.

"Good human," the minotaur whispered to him, and the compliment made him almost giddy. He pulled himself back up, let himself fall down again, and then the minotaur picked up the thrusting, bouncing him up and down and Erik just let the hot warmth flow into him, punctuated by the intense sexual pleasure of being fucked - that peculiar mixture of pleasure/pain. It was as if the minotaur was slowly taking over his entire body, all of him yielding to the intense maleness that poured out of the minotaur like molten honey.

When the black minotaur tensed as his own orgasm began, Erik felt his own body dissolve into fire - pure heat, pure pleasure that had him screaming as hot minotaur seed poured into him. Human seed spattered hot against the short black pelt as Erik twisted in almost mindless ecstasy against his partner; a spent, limp doll of flesh.

The human didn't struggle as Lord Green disentangled himself, and set the human down, carefully, on the floor in front him. The soft warmth covered him like a blanket, pouring into him warm and reassuring and Erik would do anything, anything for that feeling. Somehow, he know what was expected of him. Erik placed his hands reverently on the sable fur of Lord Green's massive thighs, feeling very small. But cleaning his master was a privilege, something he was fortunate to be permitted. The human managed, somehow, not to think of just what he was licking off the minotaur. It was worship, he thought dimly, and he sighed in satisfaction at his task.

The warm golden feeling didn't fade until Lord Green stepped away from the human, carefully rebuckling his trousers. Erik felt cold, very cold, as that internal warmth faded, and memory caught up with him. He looked at the towering minotaur with something like terror as he realized just what had happened - what he had done - what he had begged for.

Lord Green just gazed back down at the human, and then looked back up to the smaller brown minotaur who had quietly watched. "He'll do. Have him delivered to my townhouse." The black minotaur didn't even look back at the human. "Oh, Trand? Have him cleaned first."

Erik looked away from the receding figure of Lord Black, and caught an expression of mingled pity and surprise on Trand's muzzle before it smoothed into a nonexpression.

The brown minotaur's voice held not a trace of that compassion when he answered. "Yes, Lord Green," but Erik felt it anyway in the way Trand's gaze lingered on him, and the careful, almost gentle, way Trand locked him back into his cell.

The events of the past hour ran over and over in Erik's mind as he lay on his cot.

Maybe, just maybe, he could kill himself? He wanted to die. The void where Lord Green had been was a hole gnawing into him; where the minotaur's warmth had been a welcome devouring fire, this was an endless ache of nothing. The bare walls of his cell meant nothing to him; he finally managed to turn over, face down on his cot with his legs spread wide, hoping - wishing - for someone, anyone, anything to come in and give him relief from the awful emptiness.

Trand came in - Erik wasn't sure when, or how long after, and put a comforting hand on his thigh. It wasn't the hot golden feeling he was longing for, but even that small area of warmth, the minotaur's flesh on his, was comforting. "It won't be like this for long," the minotaur said after a few moments of silence. "It's hard now."

"Please," Erik said. "Fuck me." He pulled in his firmly muscled legs, raising the spread rounded muscles of his bottom. "Please," he begged.

Silence was all he got from the minotaur, although the hand remained in place. "Please. I'll do anything for you. I ..."

"Shhhh," soothed Trand, rubbing the muscle of his calf gently. "I'm sorry. I can't tell you how sorry; but I can't. And ..."

"What?" gulped Erik, almost sobbing with frustration. "Please. I can't stand it. Please."

"You need to call me 'Sir'," Trand said, almost reluctantly. "Or Lord Green .."

"Sir, _please_fuck me, Sir!" gasped Erik, almost hopeful.

Trand patted the human gently, his hand drifting lightly up the thigh, over the curve, and ended on Erik's back. "I can't. And ... no. Try to remember that it will be over in a few hours, and you'll feel better. Lord Green is sending three servants to bring you to his house, and they'll be here ... soon, I think." The minotaur sighed once, and then got up.

"Sir! Please ... at least ... please don't leave me."

Trand exhaled, a hard sound, and the door closed, leaving Erik more alone than he'd been before. "No," he whispered, nearly too low for even himself to hear. Almost reflexively, he drew his knees up under him, and curled into a fetal position.

Lord Green's servants found Erik that way, curled tightly, his hands clasped with white knuckles around his legs, laying sideways on the cot. He had a moment of hope, but quickly realized they only spoke Greek. Still, he looked up hopefully, and then realized what he was hoping for, and he flushed bright red with humiliation. Less than ten hours ago he'd been Commander-of-Ten Erik, a soldier. Now he was some kind of wanton slut fucktoy. The worst part was, he wanted it. He wanted it so badly that he didn't care what they thought; if they'd just fuck him, they could say whatever they wanted, think whatever they wanted.

The humans said something - in Greek, of course, so he didn't understand it, but Erik flinched, expecting laughter. There was only quiet, and then low tones as they conversed briefly.

Erik glanced at them briefly; they looked surprisingly similar. Sandals, loincloth, dark hair, dark eyes, nothing much to distinguish them beyond the differences all humans share. He realized what a

"You OK," he said, in horribly accented Latin. "Not ..." he halted, not sure of the word he needed, and so he just repeated, "You OK." He put a hand on each shoulder, spread out. "It OK."

They helped him stand, and walked him out of the cell, slowly, and then a little faster as his cramped legs and arms recovered. "With us. You," the first one said, and smiled, and nodded again. "Yes?"

Erik just nodded and stumbled with them back down the corridor - and then down another, and outside to a tiny alley. There was a cart waiting, with two empty harnesses, but even that didn't strike Erik as strange. The three conferred again, and the first one - the one who had the broken Latin - turned to Erik. "You," he said, and pointed into the cart, and then at himself. "With me. Yes?"

He even helped Erik into the cart with him. He unfolded a couple of blue blankets, lining the floor with them, and then helping Erik sit down on them. He sat down too, and draped another blue and green checked blanket over Erik. "Good?"

Erik just nodded dully, not certain why this man wasn't laughing at him. The man studied him for a moment, put a hand on his chest, and said a Greek word. Porter. He looked at Erik sympathetically, and patted Erik's arm, followed by more Greek. Porter shouted another phrase, and the cart started moving.

Erik just sat shivering with the blanket over him. The man looked at him, and said something quietly in Greek. He reached out, and pulled Erik over to him. Erik was taken by surprise for a moment, but the embrace was irresistable to him. Erik almost collapsed onto Porter as the man pulled him over, and put his arms around him. Erik stared into Porter's face with shock. The man just smiled back at Erik, and held him more tightly, whispering something in Greek. All Erik could see in Porter's eyes was sympathy, not the disgust or contempt he'd expected.

And the warm, intoxicating feel of flesh against him was so good. It wasn't the glory that the touch of Lord Green had brought, but it was so much better than the cold ache of nothing, and Erik was suddenly overwhelmed with gratitude. He burst out crying - he couldn't help it, and he was again amazed that Porter didn't just shove him away. The human just held him, whispering more Greek to him, and Erik could tell he was repeating the same phrases over and over to him.

Eventually, Erik managed to stop, and just rested his head against Porter's chest. Porter stroked Erik's hair softly, as if to tell him that he was safe. Erik clung to the human, trying to ignore the crawling _need_in him. Almost involuntarily, his tongue snaked out and brushed Porter's dark, smooth skin. Porter tensed for a moment, and Erik tensed, too, afraid that he'd gone too far, but Porter finally nodded, whispered something in Greek, reached down, and untied his loincloth.

Erik was frozen between the _need_building in him, and his own fears, but he lay down, his head in the fuzzy patch of hair the detached loincloth revealed, and began to suckle at the hardening flesh. He could feel the soft pulse of blood through Porter with his cheek, pressed up against the curve. The taste, salt and musk, was nothing like the resinous tang of minotaur, but it was very human, and Erik almost started crying again out of sheer happiness. Hearing Porter sigh with pleasure almost brought Erik himself to the brink, but he managed to contain himself, and continued laving Porter's now rock-hard maleness with his tongue. The human's scent, salt-musk, tickled his nose, but all he could taste now was the smooth and silky skin itself; Erik lovingly traced every ridge, every vein, enjoying the occasional twitch or throb in his mouth as he fed the _need_within him.

Another taste, and feel, intruded. Salty, slippery, wonderful juice oozed from the very tip of Porter's length, and Erik savored it. Craved it, letting it coat his mouth and tongue until he could smell it, and the slipperiness of his mouth was half due to him, and half to Porter. Porter himself was gripping Erik's shoulders, alternately kneading one and then the other in a rhythm that made Erik want to groan, but he kept his mouth and tongue active, showing his deep appreciation for the privilege of touching Porter. Erik wanted to thank him, wanted to yell out his gratitude. Instead, he kept suckling, licking, kissing, and by the subtle shifts, and tensions he felt in Porter, he could tell the man's pleasure was building.

When Porter came, it was sudden, and caught Erik by surprise. A slight tension, a deeper grip on Erik's shoulders, and then seed was filling him - salty, slightly sweet, and Erik drank it hungrily down, the quintessence of man filling him, sating him. He whimpered to himself, expecting Porter to push him away, almost wanting Porter to push him away. The part of him that was still Commander-of-Ten was howling with fury, ordering him to get away, escape, _anything_to end this humilation and almost welcoming the contempt Erik was sure would follow.

All that happened was that Porter released Erik's shoulders, and put his hands out comfortingly on Erik's bare back. Porter whispered something - more Greek, of course - and patted Erik softly. All Erik did - all he wanted to do - was to remain there, with Porter's softening shaft in his mouth, breathing in the faint musk of male. From time to time he rolled his tongue around it, keeping it slippery, but when he did, Porter just shushed him, and motioned for him to subside.

Eventually the cart came to its destination, and Porter carefully detached himself from Erik, redoing the ties with deft fingers. Erik hadn't paid any attention to where they were going while they were travelling, but he looked up and around now with more interest. The surroundings still said city, but trees and small bushes dotted with white flowers ornamented the street, and the small alcove where the cart had stopped. Tall walls of roughly-hewn granite blocks lined the street; the walls stretched almost twelve feet high, completely obscuring whatever was behind them.

Porter urged Erik out of the cart, apparently not caring when Erik wrapped the blue-and-green blanket around him. A small, human-sized (and when had that become small to him?) door in the wall opened up into a wildly florid garden. Tall red flowers on long, stiff green stems assaulted the walls, and the beds directly in front of them were full of smaller shrubs with a wide variety of colored blossoms. The path itself was thick green grass, wending around precise rectangles planted with a wide variety of herbs; Erik recognized several sages and mints, and caught familiar scents of other plants, as well as unfamiliar, but oddly pleasant, vegetable odors.

Beyond the kitchen garden was the back of the huge house, practically a small palace, Erik thought to himself. The four of them walked towards a small door to the side of what Erik guessed was the kitchen. The time he'd spent in the cart, with Porter, had been restorative to Erik in a way the long lone hours in the cell had not, the constant bumps and jerks of motion notwithstanding, and Erik was easily able to keep up with the others.

His attention turned to the house, or at least the back or the side or whatever portion of the house he faced. The side was lined with small blue and red bricks, and more of the vines grew up and over them so that the first two floors were almost completely overrun with green. Windows ran up and down the side, impressively paneled with clear glass. There was more glass here, and perfectly clear and colorless, than Erik had seen previously in his entire life. The thought that this wasn't even the front of the house, but merely facing the kitchen garden made him wonder at the wealth of his new owner. Or ... perhaps the minotaurs had some process for creating the huge sheets of clear glass that the Empire lacked. Either way, though, Erik found it dauntingly impressive. He glanced at his companions, but either they were used to it, or did not find it remarkable.

The windows themselves were set in blue brick, and several of the windows on the lower level were in actual danger of being grown over by the green vines. Given the fastidious attention to detail elsewhere, he found that peculiar, but he had little time to think about it. They entered into a huge kitchen, floored in rough granite with polished stone counters. The sudden cacophony of clatter and cooking made Erik wince. Ovens, made of iron and with open fires burning on top, were in a state of flux. At least ten, and probably more, humans were busy, peeling, mixing, scraping, cutting, and cleaning. He did notice that all of them wore far more clothes than his escorts, and certainly more than he did, being naked save for his sandals under the covering blanket.

A woman dressed in black and white shouted loudly and angrily in Greek at ... not Erik, but the men with him. No, with Porter. She pointed emphatically to a door, and Porter led their little group through it while trying to respond to the woman. Porter led them hurriedly to the door, and shepherded them through it, closing it in the furious woman's face. Porter said something to his companions that made them laugh briefly, and they continued on.

Two hallways led to what Erik guessed was a bathroom, even if most of the polished stone - pottery? That was a sink, and that looked like a tiny bathtub meant for a single person (and it certainly wasn't large enough for a minotaur). Only it was a strange sort of pottery, somewhere between fine clayware and opaque glass. The final thing, of the same stuff, was a chair ... a latrine of some kind, Erik guessed, only how the small bowl, filled with a tiny pool of clean water, was emptied he couldn't guess. The surfaces were a light blue, and smooth, almost slippery to the touch. Erik growled with frustration; he wanted to ask Porter so many questions! He _had_to learn Greek!

Porter had, while Erik looked around, twisted knobs and started running water - steaming hot water, Erik noted with surprise - into the small one-person tub. Porter offered Erik a small jar of soap, and pointed to the tub. Well, thought Erik, at least that was clear enough.

Bathing, even though Porter was there, was a pleasure. The water was hot, and the soap had a deep floral scent, even if Erik couldn't identify it. Porter gave him a huge shaggy blue towel to dry himself with. When Erik had finished, Porter gestured to follow him, and had him leave his sandals - the last piece of clothing he had.

Porter took Erik through a narrow corridor whitewashed - well, bluewashed, somehow - and a steep set of stairs up to a middling size room. There they sat on wooden chairs. Porter spread his hands, and said something that really needed no translating - they were waiting on Lord Green's pleasure, and he would see them when he was ready, and not a moment before. Erik spent the time quizzing Porter about the names of objects in the room - chair,window, glass,floor - he wasn't sure he remember all of them, but he had to start somewhere. The light had faded from day to dusk, and Porter got up to light a glass oil lamp.

Porter had started to help by pointing to something he'd named, and Erik was repeating it when another human, wearing a light blue skirt and gray slippers, came in. She said something quickly to Porter, and left. The human got up, and gestured to Erik to follow.

Another interior corridor, this one thickly carpeted with a rug intricately patterned with tiny leaves and grapes on a starry background, led to a set of double doors. Porter opened one, and gestured Erik through.

Lord Green sat behind a massive wooden table, in a huge corner room. Both exterior walls were mostly window, set between bookshelves. More carpet spread across the room with the same grape pattern. Erik paused just inside the door.

The minotaur's face tightened for a moment, and then relaxed. "When summoned, come to the center of the room," he instructed, gesturing to a point on the floor.

Erik walked there.

"Good," said Lord Green. The black minotaur gazed at Erik, although he might just as easily been looking past him through the window. "You will learn Greek. You will be rewarded for learning, and punished for speaking Latin, although at first, I will overlook it." The minotaur looked at Erik expectantly.

"Yes, Master."

A soft snort echoed through the room. "I see your reward has worn off," the minotaur said softly.

Erik said nothing.

"There was the matter of your not calling me Master earlier," the minotaur said softly. "Do you remember that?"

"Yes, Master," Erik said, a sense of dread growing.

The black minotaur nodded slowly. "Do you have anything to say?"

"I don't understand, Master. What would I say?"

"You failed to obey me," said the minotaur. "Is there anything you wish to say to explain or defend your failure?"

"No ..." said Erik slowly, deciding that this creature would have little patience for explanations even if he had any. "No, Master. May ... may I beg for mercy?" That, Erik found, was almost as hard as calling the creature in front of him 'Master,' but somehow he got the words out.

"You may."

Erik sank slowly to his knees, more to give himself time to think than anything else. "Please, Master, forgive me. I am new to ... to being a slave." he managed to say. "I know I was captured, and it is your right to do with me what you wish. I was ... I failed to acknowledge you properly, Master, and I will not do it again. Your slave begs your forgiveness, Master." Erik dropped his forehead to the ground as he stopped talking.

Lord Green was silent.

Erik waited.

"Did someone coach you in that little speech," the minotaur asked finally, with a hint of anger in his voice.

"No, Master."

"Explain it, then."

"Master? I ..."

"Explain _why_you said that," Lord Green said, the anger becoming clearer.

"I ... Yes, of course, Master." Erik paused to gather his thoughts. "The Varingean code holds that an apology consists of an acknowledgement of failure, and an oath not to repeat the fault. That's ... that's what I was thinking. It wasn't exactly a Varingean apology, but ... but that's why I said that, Master. I didn't mean to anger you, Master, and if I have, I don't know how I have erred."

The minotaur paused. "Varingean. Are _you_Varingean? North-of-the-Empire Varingean?"

"Yes, Master."

"Well. Yes. An apology _does_have certain elements, and yours contained them all, very nicely," the minotaur said, thinking. "Varingean. How did you come to the Empire - do you _speak_Var - what languages do you speak?"

"I worked as a mercenary with the Gaels, Master, and then went East. I speak Varingean, Gaelic, and Latin."

"You do!" exclaimed Lord Green. "Excellent. My Gaelic is poor, and I have no Varingean at all. Excellent! You are a better acquistion than I thought. But ... hmm, I can't use you as broodstock like that ..." he fell silent. "There are ways around that, I suppose."

The minotaur rose. "You are forgiven. But you will attend the next punishment." There was silence for a moment. "Speak."

"Thank you, Master."

The room turned abruptly gold, and Erik felt something stirring within him again. He looked up at the minotaur - he could feel the heat radiating from the glossy fur from where he was. Erik was confused for a moment, and then he realized that ... whatever his new master had done to him earlier, was happening again. The feeling of warmth grew, making him feel almost as if he were drifting in quiet pool of molten sunlight. Deep within him, he felt the emptiness expand. It was all he could do not to crawl to the minotaur.

"Come over here," Lord Green said.

Erik_wanted_ to crawl over to the minotaur, he realized. And his Master was calling him. He scurried over to the minotaur, and, boldly daring, he kissed the forward hoof. A blaze of golden warmth poured into him through the momentary connection, and Erik heard himself moan.

"Yes," murmured Lord Green. "I think you'll be a very good human."