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The chain -- no surprise -- wouldn't come out of the wall, any more than I could get the collar off. I had to settle with cleaning myself off with the remains of my shirt. The chain didn't reach more than a yard, certainly not as far as where Jack was sleeping -- or pretending to sleep. I just huddled up against the wall, and tried to sleep. It wasn't easy, though. I kept thinking back over what Jack had done to me. I already knew he was better in a fight, and that he was stronger, but I hadn't guessed he wanted ... I'm not sure what he wanted. To fuck me, obviously, even if I didn't want him to. I wasn't sure why he hadn't killed me. I had been certain he was finally going to kill me when he fucked me; I was helpless.

Now that I thought about it, I was still pretty much helpless. I couldn't reach the knife, either one of them. I couldn't get out of the damn chain. And I couldn't reach anything that might help me, either. I spent a cold and miserable day huddled up with the damp shirt, trying to get some sleep. I may have even done so, since I think I woke up once or twice, but I was so uncomfortable that I wasn't even sure about that.

I had all day to think about what Jack had done, how he had done it, and how completely helpless I'd been to stop him. I managed not to think about it, mostly, or what I was going to do next, because whatever happened next was going to be whatever Jack wanted to happen next. But ... and I held on to this firmly, Timdon had lost the child. Jack could make errors. Jack did make errors. And eventually, Jack would make another mistake, and ...

And then what? I'd kill him if I could, but, after that long cold day, I just wanted to escape. I just ... no, I knew I was just a game, something to divert him, and if I could escape, he wouldn't put all of his attention into bringing me back. I knew him, maybe too well, I just wasn't that important. All I had to do was somehow get out of his way. Yeah, all.

No, I might not have that chance. I had to take it, whenever I saw it. Whatever it was, however it was, and then I had to get away. Revenge might be nice, but it was just temptation. It wouldn't be worth it, not if it meant being anywhere where Jack could reach me. And even if, in the unlikely case I managed it, or died trying, it wouldn't be as clever or as witty or as, well, awful, as whatever Jack would have done anyway so ...

I had to escape. At some point, I thought, he'd have to unchain me. Wouldn't he?

Not that evening, apparently. In fact, Jack just ignored me. He woke up, stared at me for a minute, and then, it was if I didn't exist any more. He just pulled his clothes on, and slipped on that gauntlet of his before he walked out of the room, and then I think he left the caves entirely. I was wondering if I was going to have to beg him for food and water; and then I just gave up guessing. It's not like I'd ever had much luck guessing what Jack was going to do before.

"Well lookit this," an unfamiliar voice said. "Just where the Warmaster said he would be." An orc, on the small side, but wearing a Wolf brand stuck his head in the room, and another two followed him. I didn't recognize him, but that didn't surprise me. They wore dirty patched homespun over patchwork leather and boots -- nothing like Jack's own clothing, or even what I'd seen the Spits wearing. And that led to the thought that they didn't really look like Spits, they looked ... like some other tribe.

"Who the fuck are you?" I said, trying to sound uninterested. Being chained up didn't make that any easier.

The one who'd spoke backhanded me, and sent me into the wall, pretty hard. "Warmaster said you needed breakfast, too," the orc added. "So I brought a couple of friends along. Know why?"

Some questions just don't have good answers, so rather than say anything I just stared back. I didn't think I was going to like anything this boar said, and after what Jack had done last night ... no, I really didn't think it was going to be good.

"See, the Warmaster said you were just learning how to give head," the orc continued. "Now, he's gonna be busy, so seein' how we're visitin', he asked us to come give you some, uh, practice." He laughed, and the two others snorted as well at this joke. His smile just got a little wider as he showed me a round rock, just about the size of his hand. "Know what this is?"

I didn't say anything.

"In case we need to ... uh, take any teeth out, know what I mean?"

I still didn't say anything.

"I can show ya," the boar said, pulling his hand back.

"I get it," I said quickly. I had no doubt he'd love to hit me with that rock. It sounded like something Jack would do, and I was certain if this bastard did knock my teeth out, Jack would just laugh. I'd rather keep my teeth, if I could. Knowing Jack, I might make it through the night just to have the Warmaster come in and use the rock himself.

"So, ya ready for ya breakfast?" the boar said, pulling his trousers open.

No. But it was either that or lose my teeth, and I'd end up with the same breakfast anyway. I was really starting to hate Jack. No, I wasn't starting. I hated him. More, at that moment, than even the boars in front of me.

The stink of unwashed boar musk eventually faded as I sucked, and after a while the taunts seemed to get quieter, and I could concentrate on the wonderful taste of boar. No, the smell hadn't faded, it was changed, somehow, to something I could stand.

Something I liked, as I did it again.

Something I wanted, as I did it again, and again.

Something I needed, as I did it again, and again, and again.

Something I had to have, something I craved, something I would do anything for, endure anything for, I screamed, I don't know why, when the boars were pulled away from me, Jack sending them out of the room as I came back to myself from whatever had happened, wherever I had gone, and I could look down, see myself covered in drying seed, feel it dripping down my face, matted in my hair, gluing the rags of what had been my fine clothes to me.

What ... what had happened? What had ... no, not what had I done, it was fucking obvious what I'd done, dripping with boar-juice, I could taste it, salty and metallic, but why, what had happened to me while I was doing it? How long had I spent? I couldn't have sucked them off just once, or even just twice. I was soaked, and I knew from the feeling in my gut that I'd swallowed even more. I looked up at Jack.

He looked down at me, not, as I'd expected, with a sneer for being so weak as to be used as I had, but more thoughtful. It was measuring, not humiliating -- although, now that I was feeling more like myself again, I was more than sufficiently humiliated. "Well?" I said, trying for a little bravado, pretty much the last thing I had left.

"I'm just glad you still have your teeth," Jack said, lightly, as he turned back to the bed. "An orc who can't bite isn't much good to me." He laid down.

"You're just going to bed?"

"It's an hour past dawn," Jack said. It was? What ... He must have seen my confusion. "You lost track of the time, I see. Not ... well, I suppose it could happen." He sounded more thoughtful than anything else.

What did that mean, that I had lost track of the time? It sounded significant, when Jack said it, but it could mean anything. Good, bad, just a comment, I didn't know, I couldn't know, and that Jack did was just part of the game. Whatever the game was. I didn't want to think about it.

"You're more of a mess than I expected," Jack said after a moment, and gave a snort of laughter.

I almost said fuck you, but Jack might take that as an invitation. "Yeah, well, you're happy."

"That's right," Jack said with a satisfied smile. "While you were distracting Yvlik and his goons, I figured out just what they were doing." He snickered dismissively. "They're going to kill me."

"I wish them luck," I said.

"Wish away," Jack said carelessly. "I suppose I might die laughing. Still, it was interesting, figuring out just who they've suborned. I don't mind that so much. Betraying Wolf Lodge to the Trapped Path clans, though ... I'm not sure whether that was a stroke of genius or idiocy. Yvlik doesn't strike me as smart enough to pull his own pants on, but ... looks deceive." Jack got a faraway look for a moment. "I'd planned to kill him, but if he's actually competent as a plotter ..."

I shook my head. "Are you saying, I don't believe this, but ... are you saying that if he's clever enough you'll keep him around? Because, didn't you just say he was trying to kill you?"

Jack put his hand out, and rotated from side to side. "Probably not, on the whole, the best reason to let him keep breathing, I admit," I said.

"It would make your life interesting," I said, looking up from the floor. Anything that distracted Jack from me would be a good thing, although the prospect of Yvlik's impending and presumably messy death would make a fine alternative.

"It would," Jack agreed, "but overall not a good idea at all." Jack was silent for a moment. "Yvlik dies. Grimn and Tidrak, though..." he fell quiet again. "I'd love to kill them, and leave Yvlik as an example, but no, it will have to be the other way round ... they're no threat, even if they get away, whereas Yvlik will never be anything but a problem." Jack looked at me for a moment, and I'm not even sure he saw the slime covering me. "If I left him alive, much less with any authority, he'd see it as weakness, and others would, too."

"Of course," I said. "What else could it be?"

Jack started to say something, and then stopped. "Point and match," he sighed. Whatever the that meant.

"No," I said. "If you leave him alive, it means you need him. Right there, that's weak, whatever excuse you use, it's weak."

Jack shook his head. "Yes, well, that logic means there's no reason not to kill everybody, then."

Finally! "Yes," I said. "Right."

"A chieftain without a tribe? A warlord without warriors? That's the point of a tribe, that five or twenty or two hundred orcs are stronger together than singly," Jack said patiently.

"Well," I said, thinking about that. "I guess ... but a chieftain doesn't need any single orc."

"Ah," Jack said. "No. I do, every single one. Every single orc makes him stronger, makes every other orc stronger. But some make you weaker, too ... the point is to get rid of the ones that make you weaker than stronger. Do you see that?"

"I..." I paused, trying to understand it; it seemed ... "That seems like a strange way to look at it."

"Chalk it up to my half-human side," Jack said. "In any case, you need to get some sleep." Jack tossed his clothes off, and dropped down onto the bed. "If you can."

"Like this?" I said. "Could I have a ... bucket of water, or something?"

"Like..." Jack peered at me, seeming to see me, and the sticky fluids covering me. "Oh. Right. I forgot..." and then he chuckled. "The best laid plans, eh?"

Huh? I thought about that for a moment. Oh.

"Human expression, don't let it worry you," Jack said with a yawn. "It means ..."

"'Plans get fucked,'" I said. "Orcish expression."

"That captures it pretty well," Jack said, thoughtfully, "although I might say that plans change. Tactical flexibility for strategic consistency."

Huh? I was so busy thinking about that I didn't notice him move until he was next to me, and his hand closed around my dick, not hard, not soft, but ... firm. Good. It was sticky -- all of me was sticky -- but it changed, I'm not sure how, oil maybe, and then it was slick and tight and I gasped as he twisted his hand, up and down my shaft. He was rubbing me off. Why? It seemed out of character, but after a minute or two I stopped caring, and I was thrusting into his hand until ... every time it happens I remember that I had forgotten just how good it feels. It's better when you're inside another orc, sow or boar, but I was so tensed up from the session earlier that when I shot, it spurted, and spurted, and ... it felt ... better ... than it had before, and then I just stopped thinking.

When I was tracking again, I was soaked -- again, although this time with my own seed. Jack had gone back to his own bed, leaving me chained, wet, and alive, at least for tonight.

I had to get out. I spent the day shivering and scratching where the fluids had dried; trying to ignore the tingling itch around my cock and balls and ass, trying and failing. I know I dozed off once or twice, and finally managed to get some real sleep because I woke up to find Jack gone. I hadn't heard him get up or leave. Of course, Jack can be really quiet when he wants to.

That got me to thinking about what he couldn't do. Magic, I'd never seen him do magic. I'd never seen him practice with a bow. Could he track someone? He didn't need to, really, he had the Panther Lodge. And of course he had Darz and Urdris for magic. And somehow I thought Jack probably knew how to use a bow, even if maybe he wasn't as good with it as he was with a sword or dagger. Not much help there.

That's when Jack came walking back in, carrying a bowl and a book, a big heavy thing with five leather straps all locked together. The bowl was full of slops, and he gave that to me. Jack unlocked the book, unbuckled the straps, set it down on the table, and opened it. He gave a grunt, and pulled a polished rock out of the desk, muttered something, and the rock began to glimmer, then glow with a steady cold light.

Shit. He could do magic. No, the rock could be magic; but ... "Where'd you get the magic rock?"

Jack turned to me, and then the still mostly-full bowl. "If you're talking, you're done eating," Jack said.

I quickly finished off the bowl. It seemed to be just leftovers from Jack's own breakfast, bread crusts, some egg scraps, even some meat, with maybe a ladle or two of porridge. Not great, but nothing awful. I'd eaten worse at Paw's. I watched Jack surreptitiously as I ate, not that there was much to watch. He carefully took off his gauntlet, and turned the page.

A couple of minutes later, he took the gauntlet off again, and turned another page. By this time I'd finished the bowl, so I could watch ... and this time, I finally saw it happen. I mean, by this time, I was certain, but there's a big difference between just being certain and seeing. The gauntlet, a dull silver-gray thing made of tiny links, got duller, and grayer, until it just wasn't there on the desk; it didn't fade, not exactly, but ... well, I can't describe it.

And it was there, on Jack's right hand, again, when he went to turn the page. He didn't sigh, or say anything, he just took the gauntlet off, and set it back down where it had been to turn the page.

"Shit," I said softly.

"So you're..." and then Jack's head finished moving, and he saw the empty bowl. "Yes. What?"

"I saw it," I said.

"What?"

"Your ... your gauntlet," I said. "It ... it just ... I mean, I thought it might, but..."

"Did you?" Jack sounded mildly interested. "Yes, it seems to be under the impression that I need assistance dressing myself. It gets like that, sometimes. Unfortunately today seems to be one of them."

"Why ... why is that bad?"

"Because the claws are unbelievably sharp and would rip the book. And then Darz would be angry at me." said Jack. He looked up from the book, over to me, back at the book, and sighed as he once again took off the gauntlet, and then closed the book up, re-buckling and locking it. "In any case, I need to get you set up and ready."

"Uh..."

Jack just grinned, and I realized that whatever was going to happen, I wasn't going to like it.

Two Wolf lodge orcs arrived a little after that, and dragged me out. I got a quick but thorough bath, and then they strapped me into a heavy leather restraint, sort of like leather armor with heavy straps and a lock. I got carried down into Darz's temple complex, and down another set of stairs that I'd never seen. That didn't surprise me, but the room I got taken into did.

It was a huge half-circle auditorium, studded with sawn-off spires of stone that had been hollowed out, and fire blazed from them, providing a flickering light throughout the room. Several terraces, connected by steppes, led down to a dias. Here and there along the ledges were fuckbenches, and, despite my increased struggling, I was hauled over to a set of three. Two had boars already strapped into them, completely naked. I recognized them, they were the two goons from yesterday -- Grim and Tidrak. I expected that the Wolves would take me out of the leather restraint before strapping me in similarly, but they didn't. I was feeling better until one of them forced an O-gag in my mouth and both of them proceeded to fuck my mouth.

I tried to pull away, but of course I couldn't. I was panting by the time the first one pulled out, my mouth filled with the strong musky taste of boar and salty-metallic orcslime. Why did it taste so damn good? I didn't even fight with the second one, I should have, but I didn't, I just let him enter me, and closed my mouth around him, as best as I could around the gag. I shouldn't be doing this, I thought, but I was. And I couldn't stop. No. I ... I wasn't sure that was true.

I didn't want to stop.

I didn't want that to be true.

I couldn't make myself stop.

I didn't want that to be true, either.

But it was true. I didn't, and I couldn't, and I sucked and licked until the boar flooded my mouth with ballslime. I couldn't even let the goo run out of my mouth, I found myself holding my head so it just slowly ran down my throat. Don't waste it. Where did that come from? What was I thinking?

I wondered just what had happened.

Over the next hour or so, the other benches had sows (and a few other boars) strapped down to them. Warriors came in, ones and twos and threes, slowly at first, and then more and more until they'd filled most of the chamber. They pretty much ignored us on the benches, although there was some chuckling and commentary about what would happen later. All I could do was squirm in the restraints, and try to ignore them. I definitely wasn't looking forward to them ... no. Not. No matter how much ... no. No.

The cavern filled up surprisingly quickly; going from mostly empty with a few scattered orcs to full. Orcs were standing on the ledges, and the ledges filled up, fairly quickly, although ... the bottom two ledges were left empty. I wondered who they were reserved for. Jack's warchiefs, maybe? Or ... I looked around, and realized I'd been thinking this was all of the Sharpened Spits, but this was just the Wolf Lodge. And here and there, I saw some Wolf warchiefs. I recognized Durk, and then I realized his housemates Trighk and Rinque were standing right by him. This wasn't the entirety of the Sharpened Spit clan, but it might just be the entirety of the Wolf Lodge.

And there were a lot of them, I realized. My tribe, the Bloody Slash, would have fit on the first three ledges. All of us; boars, sows, orclets -- everyone. The Wolf Lodge warriors alone -- never mind the Bears, or Panthers, or any of the others, just the wolves filled the entire space -- with the exception of those two lowest ledges. But ...

And then they filled, with young boars, led by Darz, naked, shaved, and painted. Their skins shone with the crimson of human blood -- although I doubted it was real blood -- in various wolf designs. Arrowheads, swords, each one had different pictures on him, but all of them were covered. There were ... one ten, two tens, three tens, four tens, and three ... four tens and three of them. I just stared with, with, I don't know. The Bloody Slash, when I left, numbered ten and three tens, and four ... including the sows and orclets. I doubted the number was much higher now.

How had Jack gotten all these warriors?

How did he feed them?

I hated him so much.

And there was absolutely nothing I could do about it other than watch, and try to figure out why he wanted me to see this. I ... no, he must have wanted me to see this. I hated him so much.

They turned, raggedly, to face the dias, and Darz stepped up onto it. With a resounding boom, two huge columns of fire ignited, bracketing the dias in red firelight. The young boars looked black in the red light, and the humanblood designs gleamed wetly on their skin. The sound of the fires was enough to quiet the cavern, and the crackle of flame caught the attention of everyone.

"Wolves," Darz called, and her deep voice growled through the room. "WOLVES!" She raised her hand. "I bring you those who would be warriors, for you, for your houses, for the Lodge, for the Wolf Lord Ythill, and for the Warmaster!"

Ythill, the Wolf Lord, stepped out onto the dias -- there must have been some concealed entry, because he just seemed to walk out of the wall. "My wolves!" he called. And then he began to talk. Blah, blah, blah, about how wonderful it was to be in the lodge, how these were the feared fist of the Sharpened Spit, how they were Jack's favored warriors. The orcs listened, and fortunately, he didn't go on too long before he finished up with, "to triumph with our Warmaster, JACK!"

Boom! Another column of fire lit in the center of the dias, capturing everyone's attention, and then it died down almost immediately.

Jack was standing right in the center, just as naked as the wolves-to-be, except for that damn gauntlet. Only ... I'd seen Jack naked. Far too often, and ... he looked ... bigger. Not his maleness, that was already big enough, but ... the rest of him. His legs looked heavier, his chest seemed bigger, his arms bulged ... he didn't look like Jack, he looked like ... like ... some kind of ancient warrior from the days before the sun.

He raised his hand -- the left, the one with that damn gauntlet, and the conversation stopped. The movement stopped. Everything in the cavern stopped, waiting on him. I wondered how he did it, but then I realized that even I was holding my breath, waiting for him. "Wolves!" he said, and his voice echoed through the cavern. "My wolves!" And then he began to speak.

I wish I could remember what he said, exactly, and how he said it. He talked about Wolf Lodge, and how it was the Wolves who would crush the southlands. Every Lodge had its own reason, but every other lodge existed to make possible the Wolves' mission: to reconquer the lands we Orcs had once held. And they would. All around me, I could see warriors listening to him, seeing the enslavement of the human empires and ... I almost believed it myself. Listening to him made it seem possible, and for a few minutes I even forgot where I was, strapped into a leather restraint, imagining that I was at the forefront of that battle ...

The Wolves themselves were entranced. They weren't imaging it so much as living it; not so much thinking that Jack's vision of conquest was possible, but inevitable, and that each and every one of them would be there to usher in a new twilight of orcish supremacy, a night that would never end, a return to the days the elders talked about, the days before the sun, when orcish rule was nearly universal. The days Yellem talked -- no, boasted -- about, to me and Kett and Paw.

As if that had ever happened. As if that could happen. There was never a time before the sun. Never. And there never would be one, either. These were just pretty words, tales to drink to around the fire, stories for orclets, not warriors grown and blooded. As I looked around though, I only saw believers, one and all, listening to an orcish demigod tell them they would live forever in victory.

Madness. Sheer, insane madness. But it was so tempting to listen, to share that dream ... I had to make an effort to ignore Jack, to shut out his words, because the more I listened, the more I wanted to join them. No, not them. Him.

Jack.

Jack.

Jack.

"Jack! Jack! Jack! Jack! Jack! Jack! Jack! Jack! Jack! Jack! Jack! Jack! Jack! Jack! Jack!"

He'd finished, and now they were standing, chanting his name like an incantation to an icon, or the frenzy a shaman might invoke, only there wasn't a shaman, and Jack was no blessed statue, but a living focus of worship. And they did worship him, I could see it in the eyes of those near me and I knew the idolization in their eyes was shining from the face of every other warrior here.

Jack acknowledged their tribute, raised his hand, and lowered it, and the rhythmic cry quieted, and stopped, and they waited, breathless, on his next word. Even I was waiting ...

Jack motioned for the first of the young boars to come up on the dais. He did, almost alarmingly fast, nearly but not quite stumbling up the steep steps in the center. Jack motioned him closer, and then turned him around, to face the assemblage, and I could see him pale slightly, from deep green-black to a lighter shade.

"Uufyn. Would you have these boars, these warriors, as your elders and brothers?" asked Jack.

"Yes, Warmaster!"

"What say you?" Jack asked, and a thundering cheer came back.

"Will you offer me, and them, your life, service, and blood?"

"Yes, Warmaster!"

"And why should we have you?"

"Because I will be a warrior, and swear myself to you, Warmaster, and the Wolf Lord!"

Jack turned him around, and with a quick flash of his hand, brought the gauntlet across Uufyn's face. Tiny droplets of blood, black in the firelight, spattered, and he finished turning to show three long slashes on his face. "A warrior's heart beats in your body. Bear these warrior's scars to remember that when you train in House Three-Axes!" Another cheer went up, and across the cavern, a warrior hefted a standard -- three bloody axes, one atop the other.

Jack pointed to the next one.

All of them got scars, some on their chest, some on their legs, but never on their back, as Jack announced that they were warriors, and assigned them to a House. The cheers grew no quieter as the Warmaster worked his way through the warriors, each one swearing himself to Jack and the Wolf Lord.

"We have one more task, brothers," Jack said, after he'd sent the last one off to House Snapped Dagger. "I have some unfortunate news. One of my wolves turned on us, betraying his Housemates and more of his fellow Wolves to our enemies."

As if that were a signal -- and it probably was -- two huge orcs came in, dragging Yvlik. He'd been beaten, and his face was almost hidden behind the swelling.

"This is the face of treachery, and betrayal," Jack intoned, over a quiet rumble of hisses and soft threats. "I don't know how many Wolves -- our brothers -- this boar's treason killed, but it doesn't matter," Jack said. "I have disbanded his House. If you know his name, I order you -- in the name of all Wolves -- never to speak it again. If you know his House's name, I order you -- in the name of all Wolves -- never to speak it again. His sows will be distributed to others, his housemates will be forgotten. He is without victories, without brothers, without anything," Jack finished. "And now..." Jack's left hand, the one with the gauntlet, reached out and grabbed Yvlik, the fingers ripping into his flesh. "We will spend no more time on this garbage." Jack picked him up with that hand, and almost casually tossed him into the firepit. There was a long scream, a stutter, and then another scream that vanished under a furious roar of approval from the gathered warriors. By the time it had faded, there weren't any more sounds coming from the firepit.

"There are better things for warriors to spend their time on!" Jack said, and that met with another, more enthusiastic, roar of approval. Jack gestured, and Darz's head dipped in the smallest nod Bors had ever seen. Perhaps she hadn't intended it. Jack ... Jack could have that effect.

He had that effect on me, even now.

The night finished with sows, beer, and more drunken sex than I'd ever seen. They didn't really even wait for the sows to be distributed to the houses, like the boars were -- they just started in, and after that I didn't have the opportunity to see much more.

I was kept pretty busy. I ... I wasn't sure if I minded or not. I did see Jack leave early, with Darz, and from time to time I saw the two Wolf warriors who had dragged Yvlik in wandering around, pretty obviously looking for someone. I even saw them pulling a boar out, but I couldn't say when that happened. I was kept pretty busy, and it was ... distracting. The party stretched on into the late day, and it must have been afternoon before I was finally unchained, and led back to Jack's rooms. I think. I hadn't drunk any beer or spirits, but I was dazed and stumbling as I followed -- I think I was chained, or on a tether, because I recall being pulled, but ... I don't remember the details, just the pain of daylight for a few minutes, and then I was being chained up again, and left.

Alone. Wherever Jack was, it wasn't here, and despite being wet with orcslime and beer, I fell asleep almost as soon as the warrior was out of the room. At least they took the damn leather restraint off so I could move again.

I woke up when Jack came back in, or rather, when I woke up, Jack was there washing. His entire left side was covered with dark blue, black, and green smears, and as he squeezed out the rag and wiped himself down, more appeared, at least temporarily until he finished wiping it off. I'm not sure if knew I was awake; Jack was more than capable of just not caring about it. No, that's not true. Jack was never anything but alert, and even chained up, he wouldn't not notice. So he knew, and he was just ignoring me.

Fine. I could ignore him, too. I shut my eyes.

A couple of footsteps were all the warning I had before a bucket of -- fortunately warm -- water dropped on me, followed by a rag. "Clean yourself up," Jack said, and then added, "if you want."

I did the best I could. Jack inspected the chain around me, tested the collar and the bolt in the wall, and once he was satisfied, lay down in the bed, and as far as I could tell, went to sleep.

Until Darz came in, no less than five minutes later. "Jack. Wake up."

Jack pulled himself up to glare at her, and then stopped. "No," he said. "I'm sorry. You've had an even longer day -- night, night than I have. Whatever it is, it has to be important."

Darz shifted her head. "He wants to talk with you."

"His timing is execrable," muttered Jack, pulling on his clothes. "At least I've got the damn paint off."

"I suggest you tell him in person; he was rather pleased that he hadn't interrupted any of the initiations."

"I don't suppose you have a spell or something that substitutes for sleep?"

"I used it," Darz said. "But it wouldn't work on you anyway. You'll have to confine yourself to alchemicals alone for that."

"Oh," grunted Jack, fastening a boot. "Figures. Hadn't thought about it. Good to know, I suppose." He paused. "What about healing? Will my wounds close without magic, then?"

Darz stopped. "I'm ... I'm not entirely sure."

"Shit," said Jack feelingly. "We need to find out. I need to find out," and then he snorted. "But I suppose he'll know, won't he?"

"I ..." started Darz. "I'm not sure. Maybe."

"Joy unbounded," said Jack. "Well, only one way to find out. Is he waiting, or does he need you, too?"

"He's waiting," Darz said, and I could hear the implication that keeping him -- whoever he was -- waiting was a very bad thing.

"Oh," said Jack. "Don't worry. If there's anything he's got in unlimited supply it's patience."

"Still ... if he's watching..."

"Dubious," said Jack. "Unless he was lying about something it was very much in his interest to be truthful about. Possible, I suppose. But even if, all there is to see is my getting dressed, and going." Jack yawned. "And being tired."

"But sleep helps you, right?"

"Yes..." said Jack, drawing out the word.

"Then I think you will heal normally. Sleep is a kind of healing, after all."

"Is it," Jack said with some interest. "I did not know that. We'll have to continue this discussion when I get back. After I get some sleep."

"I'll wait for you? Here?"

"Uh," said Jack. "If you want, but I'm just going to crash after I'm done. It's not optional."

"But what if..."

"Oh, stop fretting," Jack said, leaving. "Why don't you get some shut-eye? You'll feel better."

"I'll wait," she said primly.

Jack just went off shaking his head. Darz watched him, and then muttered something, and she sat down at his desk, and stared at the book. She tested the straps, and snorted to herself.

"He's reading it," I said, but she just shook her head at me, and I watched her.

"There," she said finally. "That must be him going into the temple..."

"Must be?"

"Jack is protected against most divinations," Darz said. "Certainly against mine. But we have a couple of moments. You remember what I said? About Hasseleh?"

Did I? "Yes," I said.

"Were you serious?"

Was I ... "Yes," I said. "Now more than ever. It's not like..." I stopped. I wasn't sure I could say it out loud, but I knew what was happening, what was going to happen. "Yes," I repeated.

Darz nodded. "I've found you a patron," she said, walking over to me. "I'll arrange things, but I need a lock of hair, and your blood, given willingly, and your assent to serve"

"Who am I serving?"

"I doubt you'll ever know," Darz said quietly. "There will be ... requirements. Demands, and they will not be negotiable. Not hard, if not easy, not time-consuming, perhaps a day of your time from every moon, but strange. You might understand some of them, and others might never make sense. All I can tell you -- all I can be sure of -- is that your patron will not set its goals against yours."

I thought about that, and as I did, Darz handed me a small dagger. It was an easy decision. I cut about five inches of hair, from the side, and then sliced my arm lightly, and let the dark green blood well out.

"Dip the hair in the blood," Darz whispered, and I did. She held her hand out, and I gave the thing to her.

"Jack might miss the hair, but he'd never miss the cut," Darz said, still quietly. "It's considerably beyond what's needed, but it's what I have..." She laid a hand on me and something hot and warm and burning -- not pain, not pleasure, not even really burning but it was as close to the sensation as I could come. It was over in an instant, and the cut on my arm was gone. The chafed area around my neck was gone, too, and the sore on my ankle, and the marks from that evening and ... and ... I felt better than I'd ever felt before. Even the soreness from being cramped on the bench was gone.

"Woah," I said. "That's..."

"Say nothing," Darz instructed sternly. "The longer Jack takes to notice, the better our chance of success. Do you understand?"

I nodded.

"Good," Darz said. "I'll be back when I can. It will take more time. Try to keep Jack from killing you?"

"How?" I said.

"I ... I don't know half of what he plans," Darz said. "But I don't think he intends to kill you."

No. Not after all the work he's put into this.

"But I think you could provoke him to that, if you tried. Or if you were unlucky," Darz said. "He's ... unpredictable when he's truly angry. He feigns -- pretends -- angry, sometimes, but once in a while he'll get truly angry and he's ..." she paused. "Prone to short-term decisions," she said finally. "He may claim to be neither orc nor human, but sometimes he makes decisions like a blood-raged orc would, you see?"

That. "Yes," I said, although I'd never seen him that angry, although ... I recollected what happened when Timdon miscarried. I hadn't seen him angry, then, either, but ... "Is that what happened? A few weeks ago? When ..." I paused, not sure how to put it. "Right when I got thrown into the pit?"

"Right after that," Darz said, nodding. "He..." she paused. "He's left the temple," she finished. "That wasn't as long as I'd hoped." She took a quick breath. "I can't help you while he has you. Not won't, can't."

I'm not sure why, but I believed her. It didn't answer my real question, though. What did Darz get out of this? She wasn't doing for any purpose other than her own, and I needed to figure out what that was. I mean, I'd take the help regardless, but I know it's bait. It's always bait. But for what?

When Jack gets back he just shook his head. "More Hellknights."

"More?" said Darz. "How many?"

"A force, he wasn't more specific. I'll have Urdris send his crows. But given what's happened ... they might be sending a company, maybe two."

"Of Hellknights?"

"Yes, well, they'll still be coming when I wake up."

"I suppose," said Darz, and she got up. "Perhaps I can come up with something suitable myself."

The half-orc nodded. "Tell Urdris to send his crows tonight. We need to know what we're facing." He took a breath and released it. "I'll look forward to hearing your something suitable tomorrow."

Jack gave me a thoughtful look before he went back to bed, but he didn't say anything.

He rushed out the next evening, too, presumably to deal with Darz and Urdris and the Hellknights. I hunched there, in the chains, hoping they'd ride in and kill him.

And me.

It's not like I didn't know what was happening. I could feel it. My dreams were full of it. I was changing, and Jack was watching me, just like he'd watched ...

No, not like he'd watched Timdon. Like he'd made me watch Timdon. So I would know, or maybe just so I would wonder, but I wasn't wondering at all. I knew. I knew when I was sucking off Yvlik, Grimn, and Tidrak, and I knew it when I listened to Grimn and Tidrak getting fucked, over and over and over again, and I all I felt was envy.

I knew it every time Jack stripped down, and I had to clench my jaw shut to keep from begging him to fuck me.

I knew it every time I went to sleep, and dreamed of huge faceless boars fucking my face and ass and ... and ... and ... parts I didn't even have.

But I would, when Jack was done.

I knew.

That was the entire reason Jack had transformed Timdon, and had me fuck him over and over and over; make me watch as Timdon went from dog to bitch. So that now, waiting, I would know how it would end. I just wondered if I'd end up in Jack's sowery, or if he'd give me to one of the warlords.

And how whatever Darz was doing, why ever Darz was doing it, would have any effect at all.