The Free Company

III

A sudden jolt shook Nika awake. Where was she? She bolted upright with a sharp breath, hands grasping blindly about her and closing around cool metal tubes. A cot. Dim red light, scarcely enough to make out more than general details, flooded the room. Her heart raced. This wasn't her home.

A dark shadow passed in front of her, and reality returned to scatter the last vestiges of sleep. The wolf. Stelian. Captain Stelian. Sir. "Up," he rumbled. "We're here. Get your bags ready."

"Yes, sir." Nika rose on unsteady legs, and fumbled for her suitcases next to the cot. It hadn't been enough sleep--just enough to make her feel more exhausted. It wouldn't have been enough in a featherbed, let alone a stiff cot in the backend of an aircraft in flight.

"Don't leave your trash lying around, either."

"My--" The food wrappers. She hadn't thought about them. And she didn't have any pockets in her robe, either. She had to make due with clutching them in the same hand that she used to carry a suitcase.

"You only ate half of it?" His eyes fell upon the half-wrapped slab of dried jerky pinned between palm and suitcase handle. Around them, the hum of the engines began to wind down, and Stelian pressed the button to release the loading ramp.

"I, ah--I'm a vegetarian. Sir."

Stelian snorted. "Not anymore."

A needle of anger shot through her. Did he think to force her to eat whatever he liked, too? Not even Tarek was cruel enough to force her onto any particular diet. He had positively indulged her, in fact, encouraged her to adopt a diet truly befitting that of a kirin, or so he said. And now this wolf wanted to cast that aside. That, at least, was one battle he was destined to lose. The very smell of meat positively made her ill. And he wouldn't stand by and watch her get sick and waste away just to... what, satisfy some little pique?

She said nothing, however, and Stelian didn't seem to care. The ramp landed on the tarmac outside with a grinding thump, revealing a darkened panorama quite unlike the blazingly lit port nexus she had departed from. Only a few tall light poles illuminated the landing pad; the silhouettes of hunched concrete buildings squatted nearby, themselves only decorated with a scattered few lamps above the doors. It was some sort of compound, dark and forbidding, and only the moonlight allowed her to make any sense of it at all. There were no signs of life for as far as she could see.

Stelian led the way down the ramp and across the tarmac. She followed him alone, glancing back but once to see the pair of pilots pacing around the landed aircraft with clipboards. She felt bad for them, having to stay out in the cold--if anything, it was even icier than when she left. Had they flown north? A stiff breeze tossed the hem of her gown, and she hunched her shoulders against it. Stelian appeared unaffected, but she was already eager to escape the cold wind.

He compounded the problem by walking right past the first and closest building to the tarmac. A pair of very large rolling gates dominated one side of the building--was it a warehouse of some sort? The building was dark inside, and only small electric lights stood sentinel on each corner of the gates. She could not stop to inspect.

Past that, a number of buildings came into view, arranged in a rough grid and connected by a network of concrete paths of various widths. She was surprised to see plenty of green space, too: rich, dense grass filled in all the spaces between the pavement, large shade trees lined the walkways, and neatly trimmed hedgerows abutted many of the buildings. Not only was there green space, it was carefully maintained and nurtured. The sight of it lightened her spirits. If nothing else, she'd have the trees.

Stelian led her to one of the buildings, its front door flanked by shrubs and a short lawn. He fished a card out of his shirt pocket and waved it in front of a box secured to the door; the light on it flipped from red to green, the door clicked, and he led her inside. It wasn't much warmer inside, but it did keep out the wind. The building was an office of some sort, she imagined, with a front lobby dominated by a wooden desk and a number of cushioned chairs and benches. Hallways to either side of the desk led away into the depths of the building, and Stelian took her down the right-hand path, and then through the first door to the right.

He flipped the lights, revealing something like a dressing room. Cubbies, most of them empty, lined one wall. The other featured an array of floor-to-ceiling mirrors, and between the two were a set of backless wooden benches, maybe enough to seat two dozen people at once. A series of metal lockers dominated the far wall.

No sooner had she entered behind him than he gestured toward the cubbies. "Get undressed, and put your things there. Bags too." He was off toward the other end of the room, but the command left her stomach tight and her spine tingling. She'd heard that command, or one like it, countless times before, and what followed after was always the same. She was long since accustomed to sex, having grown up surrounded by it, having lived her life steeped in it; the prospect of sex with just one more client was not frightening to her. But the thought of sex with this monstrous nightmare beast of a wolf was.

She set her bags aside as instructed, but her hands were still lingering on her robe's sash, half-loosed, by the time Stelian had returned to her. His brows furrowed. "Are you waiting for something? Hurry up." He was still fully clothed, which confused her for the three seconds it took for her to notice that he was holding a folded stack of clothes in his hands.

She didn't know whether to laugh or cry. He only meant for her to change, and she was twisting herself into a knot over it. She was relived--at the same time that she was frustrated with him for leading her to believe otherwise. Her stomach did not so easily un-knot itself, but she did as he instructed nonetheless, shedding her gown and draping it over a nearby bench.

"Underwear, too."

"Sir?"

"Everything goes. Hurry up." He hefted the stack of clothes in his hand. "This is what you'll be wearing until we get you something tailored. We'll worry about that later."

She oughtn't to have been bashful about exposing herself to him, but he was no ordinary client. She hated him in a way she had never hated any of her clients, not even her first one, not even Tarek. As she reluctantly shed her undergarments, she found herself increasingly embarrassed; heat flooded her face and neck, and for the first time in almost a decade she was not merely unclothed but naked.

If the wolf had even the slightest hint of her inner turmoil, he made no remark. The most he did was drag his eyes down her body as she set her undergarments aside. His nostrils flared, but aside from that, the stare was not the stare of a hungry man lusting for pleasure. It was the gimlet eye of a butcher, sizing her up like a side of meat. When he thrust her new clothes into her arms, she almost dropped them. "Get dressed. The longer you take, the less time you'll have to sleep."

Sleep. She needed it, badly, though at this point she feared what dreams might come. Still, it was an effective goad, and with only slightly trembling hands she fumbled herself into her new clothing. It was ugly and utilitarian: loose black boxer briefs better suited to a man than a woman, a matching sports bra that was a size too large, a short-sleeved gray t-shirt with a patterning reminiscent of concrete or pavement, and a set of fatigues like Stelian's. The clothing was ill-fitting all around, too loose everywhere--she felt as if she were going to trip over herself as soon as she took a step.

"Tuck in your undershirt."

Nika blinked. "Sir? Aren't I just going to bed in a few minutes?"

"You're not going to walk around my base like a slob at any time of the day. Tuck it in."

"Yes, sir." Nika stuffed the hem of the shirt into her pants and tightened her belt again. "I do feel like a slob anyway. Sir." The volume of her mane made the collar of her shirt fit poorly, and the weight of the jacket trapped much of it like a lump against her back and shoulders. There was, at least, a collar in the back of the pants for her to fit her tail through, though it was uncomfortably tight around the base.

"Hnn." He fixed her with an appraising look. "It's bad, yes, but it'll have to do. We'll get you measured tomorrow. I don't want you looking sloppy any more than you do."

He probably meant to reassure her by that, and she was relieved that she would have something that fit better in the days to come. But she also had a suspicion that the wolf's idea of sloppy was altogether different from her own. She would have been mortified to wear what he was wearing in public; even when she had been given costumes to wear as a courtesan, it was always within the privacy of the pleasure-house, and only for a night. "Yes, sir."

"Let's go. You've got a long day ahead of you tomorrow."

She picked up her old clothes and made to pack them into the bags she had stowed in the cubbies, but Stelian waved her off. "Leave them there. You won't be needing your bags."

Nika frowned. "Sir--"

"If I hear one more word I'm going to reconsider giving you a night's sleep."

She swallowed, shoved her discarded clothing into a random cubby, and folded her hands in front of her in a show of submission, ears flattened along her skull and tail dipped low. She hoped it would satisfy him.

It didn't. "Behind your back."

She opened her mouth to ask what he meant, then thought better of it. Behind her back? She looked over her shoulder, saw nothing. It took her a few seconds to realize that he meant her hands--she recalled the other men she'd seen earlier, standing with their arms folded at the small of their back. She tried to emulate their posture.

"Chin up." She lifted her chin. "Now look at me." That was harder. She hesitated for a moment before following his instructions. "Hnn. Good enough for now. Come on." He cut the lights and departed, leaving her to follow behind him in the dark. She dared not speak, though she wanted to ask what she would be doing tomorrow. Would it just be more of this, from sunup to sundown, being humiliated and chastised in turn? She could scarcely imagine it. Didn't want to imagine it--least of all the possibility that this would define her life from this point forward. Stelian owned her contract; he owned her.

She could buy her own freedom, if he would let her--but that was entirely dependent on his willingness to tear up the contract. There was no way she could force him to do so legally, and if she tried to trick him into it and was discovered, the contract could be imposed upon her again. Someone else could buy her out, but who could possibly pay more for her than what this wolf did? No one would spend that much on a courtesan. No one sane.

The cold night air braced her thoughts, and the two seemed to complement one another for their bitter chill. She was stuck here, like it or not. Maybe it was just some cruel, elaborate production, a living drama staged by some wealthy dilettante to lord over her in a very peculiar manner for a few days. If so, then Stelian was the best actor she'd ever seen in her life. She wished it were so.

They crossed the compound to a two-story building, and Stelian admitted them in the same manner. The door, glass-paned, revealed a small, darkened vestibule beyond and a hallway stretching into the dark past that. The pair of them had not taken two steps into the vestibule before an unfamiliar voice called out. "Who goes there?" A masculine voice, firm and authoritative.

Nika startled, ears laid flat, but Stelian remained unperturbed. "At ease," he replied.

As Nika's eyes adjusted, she saw a pair of men standing at a desk at the corner of the room. Canines, both of them--wolves, maybe, though the darkness obscured made certainty difficult. Neither of them were nearly as large as Stelian, but both were armed. The further one held a rifle across his chest like the checkpoint guard she'd seen a few hours ago, and the closer one hand his hand wrapped around the handle of a holstered pistol on his right hip. A small lamp cast a dim red light over a game of cards in progress upon the desk.

Even as she took in the scene, both wolves were already relaxing, replacing their ready stances with crisp salutes. "Sir," the closer of the two responded. "We weren't expecting you back until tomorrow."

Stelian returned their salutes, only after which did their hands return to their sides. "I preferred not to make a scene until I was ready."

"In any case, welcome back, sir." The guard's eyes flicked past Stelian, to Nika. That same expression of surprise came over him that she'd seen several times already. "Sir, is this--?"

"This is. Keep it to yourself." He laid a pointed look on each of the other two wolves in turn. "You'll all be briefed in a few days. Hold your tongues until then."

"Of course, sir," the closer one answered instantly. "I can see why you didn't want to make a scene."

"Glad to hear it. As you were."

"Good night, sir." The two guards returned to their card game, and Nika followed Stelian down the darkened hallway and up the staircase at the end to the second floor. She wasn't even sure what kind of building this was, but judging from the series of closed doors on either side of the hallways on both floors, she thought it might be an apartment building. Paintings hung on the walls here and there, and a few potted plants gave the hallways texture, but the décor was simple.

Stelian stopped her in front of one of the doors. 212 was printed on a placard next to it. With another swipe of his access card, the door unlocked with a click; he ushered her inside and closed the door before turning on the lights.

The room was clearly a bedroom of sorts. It was sparsely furnished; aside from the bed, the only furniture consisted of a large footlocker at the foot of the bed, an upright metal dresser, an end table, and a desk with a stiff-backed folding chair. But the bed was a real bed, with a real mattress, and pillows, and a heavy woolen blanket. It was small, and not as richly appointed as her old bed, but in her current state of physical and emotional exhaustion it might as well have been the bed of a queen.

"You'll be sleeping here for a couple of days," Stelian said. "Not many people know you're here yet, and I intend to keep it that way until then. I expect you to keep your head down and stay in here until I come to get you. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir." Nika was too relieved by the sight of the bed to bother worrying about what she would be doing tomorrow.

"I've got some tasks to complete in the morning, so you'll have time to sleep in. Make the most of it. I'll send a runner by with breakfast at some point."

Nika lowered herself onto the edge of the bed. It took everything she had not to crawl beneath the blanket and fall asleep immediately, but she wasn't sure how Stelian would react. The wolf seemed to be upset or displeased by the smallest, most random things, while not caring at all about things that would have made her angry. Nonetheless, something she'd heard a few minutes ago itched so badly at her that her mouth was opening before she realized it. "Sir?"

Stelian lifted a brow. "What?"

Nika stiffened. "May I--ask a question?"

"Make it quick."

She wasn't sure she even wanted to ask, now, but those expectant yellow eyes weighed on her. She was certain that he'd be more upset if she waved the question off than if she asked it, now. "One of the men downstairs, he asked if I was... something. What did he mean?"

"You'll be briefed on that in a day or two."

The answer was expected by this point, but she was certain that if there were something so significant that concerned her, she ought to be aware of it. Shouldn't she? Did he just expect to keep her in the dark about everything until it pleased him? Her mouth was open to object, but before the first sound emerged, Stelian lifted both of his brows high. She clamped it shut. For once, that seemed to genuinely satisfy him.

"Good night," he said. Without further ado, and without waiting for a response, he switched off the lights and left. The whirr of the door lock sliding shut was loud in the sudden silence.

She sat there in the dark for a few minutes, trying to compose her thoughts, but clarity and stability proved elusive. Already her comfortable time in the pleasure-house seemed a lifetime ago, and she had not been owned by this man for more than twenty-four hours. There had been more to upset her equilibrium in the last six hours than she'd felt in the last six months. And she couldn't do anything about it--couldn't even understand her situation. Not only lame, but blind. She would just have to wait, exactly like he wanted.

She crawled under the blanket and curled up. It was heavy and warm, if a bit scratchy--a welcome reprieve from the cold through which she'd just walked. The pillows were soft and clean, the mattress pliable. A small harbor in a sudden storm, but she was too tired to care.

* * *

The sudden sharp rapping on the bedroom door awoke her all at once, a startle that brought her bolt upright and clutching her blanket to her chest. Unfamiliar scenery momentarily disoriented her: with sunlight filtering through the bedroom window, the room was cast in a pale warm glow altogether unlike the harsh iridescent lighting from the night before. She fumbled about her bed, struggled against her own bulky clothing. She'd fallen asleep without so much as untucking her undershirt, and the lumpy, too-big uniform had gotten itself twisted and tangled in the night.

Another knock. "Ah--I'm coming," she called as she disentangled herself from the blanket. Her clothing, already loose, was terribly wrinkled, and her mane was a mess; half of it was matted unpleasantly from her neck and shoulders down, compressed under the fatigues, and the other half was disheveled from sleep. But she didn't have any way to make herself presentable even if she didn't have someone knocking at her door. All of her belongings were locked up somewhere halfway across the compound.

She staggered to the door, trying to smooth down the worst of her jacket's wrinkles and creases on the way. Stelian had said he'd send a runner with breakfast, but he didn't say who to expect, or when to expect them. Or how to address them, or what to say. She was flying blind, now, and in the absence of the great black wolf looking over her shoulder, she was afraid of breaking some new rule that would bring him down on her.

She cracked the door a few inches and peeked out. Standing just outside, holding a thick paperboard container in one hand, was one of the canine guards from last night. He was a wolf, or so she thought, though his ears were taller and more pointed than Stelian's, and his fur was a light tan. There were so many varieties of canine that she couldn't keep track of them all--most of her canine clients as a courtesan had been wolves or foxes.

"Breakfast for you," he said, gesturing with the container. Alert eyes focused on her face, with the telltale darting of a man drinking in her features. She was certain she looked miserable--unlike him, who looked as clean and wide-eyed as he had been last night. How long had she slept? It wasn't long enough.

"Oh. Yes, thank you, ah..."

"Rudy Nocona, first platoon." He tapped a claw just above the breast pocket of his uniform, where his last name was written in block letters. She hadn't noticed before then. At least that would make things a little easier in the future. "Most people use my first name. The Captain likes the last. Whichever you prefer is fine."

"Then thank you, Rudy." Nika took the offered food container and made to retreat back into her room, only to find her visitor's boot wedged between the door and the frame. She wet her lips. "Is there... something else?"

"My apologies, miss, but the Captain asked me to keep an eye on you this morning." He inclined his head to indicate the room behind her. "May I?" It was polite, but it was not really a question.

She wanted to say no, he may not. Could she? Stelian didn't say anything about letting anyone into her room. In fact, he told her to keep out of sight, didn't he? He only mentioned someone bringing breakfast, not someone babysitting her. She examined Rudy's face, found his eyes apologetic but unwavering. "I'll do my best not to be a bother, but, miss, if you'll forgive me for saying so, I think you'd rather me be here than have me return to the Captain to send him up."

Nika frowned, but she couldn't argue. He was right. "Yes. Of course. This is all just very... sudden. I'm not really sure how to react." She stepped back and opened the door for him, and he stepped inside to take up a standing position near the foot of her bed.

"I understand," he said. "I think there's going to be an awful lot of that happening pretty soon."

Nika seated herself at the small desk with her breakfast. "What do you mean?"

He rubbed at one ear. "I'm not sure if I should say much. I think the Captain wants to take it slow and careful."

"He's not fond of telling people anything, is he?" She opened the box carefully, and grimaced as the smell of salty bacon rose from within. More meat. Did Stelian do this on purpose? She peeled back the wax paper that wrapped the box's contents. Bacon, fried potatoes, scrambled eggs, a pre-cut toasted muffin, half of an orange, and a dollop of jam in the corner. A fork and knife lay atop, wrapped in several layers of paper napkins.

"He's usually got a good reason for whatever he does," Rudy said. "I'll say this much, and this is just between you and me, but I wasn't expecting you to be a... person. I knew he was heading out to pick something up, but we assumed it was some sort of..." He shrugged. "Weapon prototype. So he's probably thinking it'll make things more chaotic than they need to be if you were just walking around. Is something wrong?"

Nika was busily frowning at her breakfast, trying to separate the bacon from the rest of the food. There wasn't even all that much she could eat in there. The potatoes were probably fried in fat. She might have given the eggs a chance--she was starving, and technically they weren't meat--but they were covered in bacon grease. The orange and the muffin were about the only palatable things. "Oh, ah... it's just that I'm not a meat-eater, so..."

"Not a meat-eater?" He tilted his head. "What, like a vegetarian? The Captain didn't say anything about that. Just said to give you the basics."

Nika shook her head. "Of course he didn't." It would have to do. She devoured the muffin and orange, peel and all.

"You might want to eat it anyway," Rudy advised her. "Not to push, but you're going to have to run off that until lunch. Don't want you going hungry."

"No, thank you. I'm certain it would make me sick, anyway."

"You're certain?"

"Yes, thank you."

Rudy shrugged expansively. "Well, your decision. He didn't tell me to make you eat everything, so it's up to you. Next I recommend a shower--" he pointed at the small bathroom adjacent to the bedroom, "--and technically that's not a recommendation, it's an order from the Captain, but it's a good idea anyway. I'll wait out here. Don't take too long."

As much as she might have, in principle, been upset by the second-hand order, she did feel unclean, and no further prodding was necessary to get her into the bathroom. It was simple and furnished with nothing more than the basics, but it had running water and everything worked properly. It was spotlessly clean, too, which impressed her: she wouldn't have imagined that a bunch of soldiers off in who-knows-where would bother to keep things clean. It occurred to her then that up to this point, _everything_had been clean. She hadn't seen so much as a scrap of litter or a misplaced pile of dirt. It was a small favor in the midst of such an unpleasant situation.

Normally she would have drawn a bath, notwithstanding Rudy's exhortation for speed, but the bathroom was equipped with only a shower stall, containing a utilitarian wire mesh caddy holding a nondescript bar of soap and an unlabeled bottle of what she assumed was shampoo. There was nothing to do about it, though. She undressed and ran the shower, relieved by the comfortable heat of the water; perhaps in this cold climate, that was one luxury these soldiers didn't want to go without. It was spacious, too, likely built to accommodate men much taller and bulkier than her, and so her tail had plenty of freedom to move.

She was less pleased about the quality of the soap, least of all having to use the same soap for her fur and her scales. She was certain she'd look a mess when she dried off, but being clean and a mess was preferable, however slightly, to being dirty and a mess. Her mane almost proved a problem: it took nearly the entire volume of the bottle of shampoo (which carried a pleasantly surprising smell of oranges) to thoroughly clean her hair, feathering, and the tip of her tail.

By the time she had finished, she was feeling far better. She could even forgive the soap its deficiencies. She dried off with the hot air dryers built into the shower stall--another virtual necessity that they were wise not to omit--and polished up any remaining dampness with a hand towel from the rack. It was only when she caught sight of herself in the mirror, with her mane clean but flat, that she realized she didn't have a brush or even so much as a comb for it. Finding none in the bathroom, she was forced to try to smooth out her mane into something remotely presentable with her fingers.

The knock on the bathroom door startled her. "You about done in there?" Rudy called through the door. "We're going to be late."

Late for what? Not that he'd ever tell her. "One moment!" she called back, and hurriedly dressed herself before returning to the bedroom.

Rudy was ready to go, standing near the front door, thumbs tucked into his waistband. When he saw her, his ears perked upright and she caught a subtle wag from his tail before he disciplined it into stillness. Maybe she didn't look quite as bad as she thought she would; he didn't need to say a word for her to know his thoughts on the matter. He clearly noticed her, but was polite about it--she thought she might actually like him.

"I'm ready to go, I suppose," she said after one last glance around the bedroom. She didn't have anything to take with her, so there were no more preparations to be made. The breakfast container was still on the desk, but had mysteriously been emptied of its contents.

"Off we go, then. Don't want to keep them waiting any longer than necessary. Oh, one last thing, miss."

"Mm? What's that?"

"Tuck in your shirt."