The elemental in the door did not stop me so I guess our master has no objections. I confess I had hoped to find you in a somewhat more energetic state.”

“I think something went wrong with Valerius’s machine.”

“I doubt that.”

“What do you mean?”

“Our master is very careful. I have never heard of one of his magical engines going wrong.”

“Well, the big one did. It felt like I was being eaten alive by elementals.”

Rhea wrinkled her nose. “I think the machine worked as it was intended.”

“You think he meant to torture me...?”

“No. Valerius is not a cruel man, at least not unless he’s backed into a corner. I think the pain was a side effect of what the machine was doing. He probably regrets any harm he might have done you.”

“You know what he did to me?”

“I can guess.”

“Tell me.”

“He’ll tell you himself in his own good time, and it would be unwise of me to reveal anything before he does. I have my own rather attractive pelt to think of. I think you should concentrate on getting better.”

She took his hand and raised it to her breast. The fur felt odd beneath his fingertips, more like a garment than a skin. His fingers left furrows as they travelled. Her nipple tightened at the touch.

She leaned forward and kissed him. She nibbled his lip with small sharp teeth, drawing blood, then stood up and sauntered to the door, hips swinging. It opened for her. He wondered if it would open for him.

 

He got up from the bed and padded, naked save for the slave bracelet on his arm, to the hangings. He pulled the cord and the drapes parted. Through translucent crystal he saw the towers of Typhon receding into the distance, so high they vanished into clouds. Weaving through them were hundreds of airboats and airships. Some were little bigger than his bed, mere passenger gondolas, tiny liftwood hulls suspended weightless over the canyons of the city, rotor blades driving them through the crowded air. Others were a hundred paces long, big enough to hold scores of people and tons of cargo.

The sight of the airships brought back memories; of having a deck beneath his feet and clouds beneath his keel, of sailing the sky above the wastelands as free as a stormhawk, and having a crew at his command rather than having to obey the whims of others. Someday, he swore, no matter how long it took or what it cost him, he would reclaim his freedom and have a ship of his own. All he had to do was keep his eyes open for the opportunity to escape.

He watched as a lifting platform was winched up the side of the tower opposite, an ancient stone structure marked with ridges and ledges and crowded with gargoyles.

Looking down on the level below him he could see people crowded on a garden balcony. He could hear nothing from outside. A silence spell kept the sound of the city at bay. He stalked over to the door. It had neither lock or keyhole.