Ryder was led into the wagon of a fat older looking woman who barely came up to his waist. He kept his hands over his crotch, humiliation burning in his chest as he followed her inside. He was surprised he could stand up inside, not having noticed that the woman's wagon was larger than most. Once he was inside the leashes were attached to the wall and the two men bowed as the exited the wagon.

"Don't sit down, you are still muddy, Xue'nghozi," The little woman said sternly. "I will get a basin for you to wash."

Ryder stood there, trying not to seem aggressive. He felt off balance with the way he had been captured then treated like cattle. The collar around his neck, the manacles on his wrists, the chains around his waist and ankles, all of them pointed at the fact he was a slave now.

But nobody but white people ever kept slaves, Ryder thought to himself.

"I am Matron Weeli duRestlafut, of the Restlafut Caravan Consortium," The woman said, pouring water into an inlaid basin. "I am used to dealing with not-people, so the Grand Matron has ordered that I care for you until we reach Ralvden."

Ryder just nodded dumbly along, having figured out that the tiny people couldn't understand his language.

"I will put up with no foolishness, no violence, so curb your natural instincts, Xue'nghozi," The little woman warned. She grabbed a small gourd, sniffing it. "Well, you'll smell of cavum flowers, but that can't be helped."

The little woman turned and faced Ryder. "Use this basin to wash, this basin to rinse," The woman stated.

Ryder nodded, washing off in the basin. It reminded him slightly of summer camp when he'd been eleven, and he pushed the burning humiliation of being watched as he bathed away.

Once he was cleaned off the woman handed him a fluffy cloth that Ryder recognized as a towel. Once he was dry the little woman put the wash rags and the towel in a wicker basket, then dumped the water out a sluice she pulled open.

When Weeli was done she went to her cabinets, getting out a small bowl of fruit, setting it down on the table. Ryder frowned slightly as Weeli set down the bowl of fruit, then a large (to her) painted ceramic jar that had stylized cookies painted on it in bright paint. Ryder flinched back as the small fat woman put what looked like a golden delicious apple on a small plate and then pulled out four cookies from the cookie jar and set them on the plate.

"You have war-fire, little Xue'nghozi, and you need to eat," Mistress Weeli said, picking up the plate and holding it out.

"I don't know what that is," Ryder said, flinching back slightly. Talking made the thorn-like piercing in his tongue poke at the roof of his mouth.

Mistress Weeli shook her head. "Your Gods are very jealous, little Xue'nghozi, I cannot understand your words. Your Gods do not allow others to learn your language, learn your customs. Your Gods are as harsh and unforgiving as your icy homeland of Arnaka, little one."

She set the plate on Ryder's lap, moving back over to the other chair and sitting down. As Ryder watched she made her own plate, picking up a small steel knife to cut the apple into pieces. He was startled to see the inside of the apple was bright green, with small red seeds in a little cluster in the center.

Weeli saw Ryder looking at the knife, looked down at it, then back at Ryder. She turned and pulled open a drawer before dropping the knife inside.

"Do not think me foolish, little Xue'nghozi," Weeli said. "I would no more let a Xue'nghozi near a weapon than I would stick my hand into a skull-hornet nest."

"I wasn't, I mean, I didn't..." Ryder stammered, shaking his head, then went quiet as he remembered that the woman couldn't understand him.

The woman laughed. "Do not deny your heritage or your people, Xue'nghozi. Before the Lich Kings sealed your people away to your icy kingdoms everyone feared your boats, your Warrior-Kings and Witch-Queens, the armored fist of your soldiers and the searing magics of your sorceresses and witches."

Ryder slumped slightly. They believed in magic. In witches. They were primitives, despite the luxury of the surroundings, that probably ascribed otherworldly motives to storms and other natural events.

"Eat, or I will have my sons force feed you again," The woman said.

Ryder flinched away from her slightly, picking up one of the thickly frosted cookies with a shaking hand and taking a small bite of it. The cookie was fluffy, light, tasting slightly of butter and honey. The frosting was thick and sweet, tasting of some kind of berry and sugar.

Despite himself, he ate all of the cookies quickly, his stomach rumbling. The apple tasted strange, tart with a sweet aftertaste. He was grateful she hadn't fed him meat, although he hoped that the cookies didn't actually use butter.

His hunger, however, overrode his vegan sensibilities.

Matron Weeli watched her new charge chew his way through a plate of cookies and a stam-fruit. His teeth were all startlingly white. His body unmarred by brands, tattoos, or scars. He bore none of the marks of one who had been trained in warfare since child-hood. His skin was soft, with no calluses on his feet or hands, his nails shaped and trimmed for appearance. His hair was soft and well tended, shaped and styled as if he was a treasured concubine rather than someone of the warrior caste.

Is the girl a witch and these her attendants? Is she as young as she looks or is she a powerful witch-sorceress who is amused by maintaining a youthful appearance with her power? Are they witch-slaves, pleasure slaves pampered and lavished with attention to show the wealth and power of one of the Witch-Queens as Matron Plevan's husbands represent her power and the wealth of this caravan? Matron Weeli wondered. I have only met the armored battle lords of the Xue'nghozi and some of the younger witches. I've never seen ones such as the trio he is part of. Perhaps there is more to their society than we know?

Matron Weeli had heard of tales from Phaelan caravans that traded with the Xue'nghozi that there was a single enclave that handled trading for the entire country. Even the accesses from the High Roads that led into the lands of the Xue'nghozi were guarded by either fierce storms or "dropped down" from the High Roads to heavily guarded enclaves where heavily armored and armed battle lords would order the caravans to return to the High Roads. During the Reign of the Lich Kings those powerful beings had blocked off access, and after the deaths of most of the Lich King Council, the Phaelan caravans had attempted to open trade to the interior of the Xue'nghozi lands, only to find themselves blocked off by the might of the Battle Kings and Witch Queens of the Xue'nghozi.

The idea of the High Roads accesses being blocked and the stifling of trade rankled on Matron Weeli's soul.

Ryder setting down the empty cup of tea snapped Matron Weeli's attention back to the present.

The Xue'nghozi prize luxuries, pay high value for silks, velvets, jewels and jewelry, precious metals and woods. Is it to pamper such as the one in front of me? She wondered.

"I wish I could understand you. There is so much I'd like to ask you about your home," Matron Weeli said, leaning forward.

Ryder tried to ignore the way the motion set certain parts of her nude body swaying.

"Were you valued above others? Is how you were obviously pampered how every male who is not one of the armored fist of the Witch-Queens treated?" Weeli asked.

"I'm just a normal high schooler," Ryder said. The barb in his tongue poked the roof of his mouth painfully.

Again, Matron Weeli shook her head. "Your language is so strange. So sharp, so concise, so choppy," Matron Weeli took out three more cookies and leaned forward to set them on Ryder's plate. "I heard once, when I was a young girl, that your people have more than a single language."

Ryder nodded at that.

"I had heard you have a language only spoken by the warriors, one spoken only by the tradesmen and crafters, and others that depend on social standing. While most nations have three at the most, not counting the trade and war tongues, I recall that your nation has nearly a dozen languages," Matron Weeli said.

Ryder shook his head. He was going to correct her, but the barb in his tongue stopped him.

Ryder ate the cookies quickly, stifling a burp. The whole time Matron Weeli watched him closely. When he was done, she took his plate, putting it in the rack where dirty dishes went. The magic infused in the metal rack would slowly clean the dishes placed in it and Weeli knew that by morning they would be clean.

When she was done, she turned back around, catching Ryder in mid-yawn.

"I thought you may be tired. Well, lay down," The small woman said.

Ryder laid on the pillows she was pointing at, surprised at the softness.

The small woman covered Ryder with a thick comforter. "Sleep, little Xue'nghozi," The woman said. "You are safe in my wagon."

With that, the little woman tapped the glass globe by the ceiling and the wagon went dark.

I wonder how Skylar and Jack are doing? Ryder wondered.