The first moments of waking were rough on Tosh. His brain felt encased in a skull two sizes too small. He reached up to the back of his head, feeling the goose-egg knot there. It was painful to the touch, which caused him to grunt in pain and wince, pulling his hand away to ease the pain. It went back to a dull ache at the back of his head, which started radiating throughout his body in a series of dull, throbbing pulses. Separate from the pain in his head were the dull aches at the wrists and ankles.

Opening his eyes, Tosh realized he was in a prison cell of some kind. Straw and reeds were strewn liberally around the floor. The stink of unwashed bodies and human filth gagged him once he recognized the stench tickling his nose and the back of his throat. He attempted to stand, and the throbbing of his wrists and ankles grew more painful. Something pulled hard at his wrists while he tried to stand, and the realization of what the clinking sound was, of thick chains around him, stopped him cold. Tosh was a prisoner. He was still wearing the clothes he’d had on when captured. Even his wallet was there, though the last few coins and banknotes were gone. He seemed without water or even an eating knife to help matters.

His mind sorted through all the possibilities of who had taken him prisoner. His former family was near the top, with his father, Ahmed bin Saldin of House du’Vaul, came to the top again and again.

An unfamiliar noise caused him to banish the thoughts of his father. The thick chains that encompassed his wrists and dragged at him then disappeared into the dark and dank cell. He realized the chains were moving. Moving! Someone is in here with me, chained to me. What kind of creature am I bound to? The images of various cutthroats and vile murderers flittered through his head as the chains clinked and rattled louder and louder. And then the form shifted to any of dozens slathering vicious beasts to rend him to bloody ribbons.

Tosh felt bile rise in his throat, looking for a way to escape. An icy hand slipped around his heart, squeezing with a constant pressure, causing his breath to come in shallow gasps. Calm down, you can’t panic. It is what they would want you to do. Calm down, you can handle yourself. The chamber reeked of sweat and something dark and eldritch. Pushing himself into a sitting position, his head ached and his body felt drained. He rubbed his head again, pulling away once more from the knot of pain. A moment later, the chains rattled again. A vibration grew in the air until the chains were constantly moving and even pulling at Tosh, tugging him closer to the thing in the dark. Confused, he looked at the chain around his wrist and at the darkness. Tosh pulled at the chains to stop them from rattling and felt they attached to something solid. “Hello?” he called out tentatively, his fear not outweighed by his curiosity to know what was in the cell with him.

“Hello?” Tosh called out again, his voice cracking. He let out a cough, not liking the breaking of his own voice. Relax, you can talk your way out of anything. He almost believed in himself.

“Stop making noise,” a rough, bass voice growled from the darkness. The chains rattled and clanked against the stone ground as they were pulled taut, again pulling Tosh towards the darkness and the deep human voice.

“Here now, don’t—”

“Quiet,” the deep voice snapped again, louder and angrier. Tosh clacked together. A moment later, Tosh heard the shifting of a large body, knees crackling and chains rattling as they shifted up. A mountain of a man strode into the weak light of the cell. Tosh stared up at the seven-foot tall human. No near-human grows that tall and broad. Tosh was chained to the man via two wrist irons and a row of chain links around his chiseled stomach. The mountain of a man was Northern Tribe, judging from the tattoos and the hair knots. Tosh was guessing since the ink and hair knots were in an ancient and old tangle. He also guessed that he was from an old tribe, or held to some odd tradition. Tosh had never seen someone that tall on Mars, outside of the stories of the ancient Northern tribes of old.

“What…what…”

The giant shook his head. “Bors, you little bird. Please stop tweeting, someone is coming,” Bors said, looking at the door and cracking his knuckles and grinning. The giant of a man started towards the door, and Tosh had to follow or get dragged along the floor by the chain around his stomach. Tosh elected to walk after the giant instead of traveling across the rough-hewn stone on his rump and risking further injury.

When he drew closer, Tosh heard the working of a key in the lock on the door. The door swung outward, opening on rusted hinges that squalled in protest. Tosh grunted and covered his eyes as light flooded into the chamber, as did Bors, judging from the low bellow from his right.

A singsong, high and cultured voice spoke to them. “Ah, you are both awake. The Master will see you now.”

“Who is your master?” Tosh asked, blinking away the pain before opening them again.

Standing before the pair was a Venusian woman, slender and grey skinned, covered in a silk-like robe that flaunted her curves. Her milk-white hair slicked back and hung in a shoulder-length queue without a hair out of place. She is owned by someone who knows the old tradition, Tosh mused to himself at seeing the black and white cords entwined in the queue. Her face was a mask of bored respect. She had to do this and wasn’t happy about it.

Bors let out a small roar, “Release us, woman!” He reached out to grab hold of her.

“Bors,” Tosh said, pushing in front of the giant and held up his hands, “Please, let us wait a moment before we give into anger.”

“The Master will release you,” the servant said in a bored, placid tone. “Please, follow me.” She spun on her well-made boot heels and walked away.

Tosh caught a strange scent of perfume and spice wafting from the servant. He turned to see Bors reaching out to grab her again. Tosh hissed through his teeth, whispering, “No, Bors, don’t. We can try to reason with—”

Not listening to Tosh, the barbarian grabbed at the servant, his hands slamming into a shield that caused multi-hued sparks to sputter from where Bors’ hands touched the energy shield. The large man cried out in pain and let out a roar, bringing both arms up in rage.

He stormed forward to make another grab when Tosh shouted, “Stop it, you fool!”

Bors turned to look at Tosh, his eyes blazing with hatred, and stared back at him. “Why?” The barbarian bellowed. “Why should I listen to you, Little Bird?”

“Because we can find out what is going on instead of killing everything if we think for a moment! She’s wearing a shield. You can’t brute force your way through.”

“Watch me.” Bors’ arms twitched and Tosh grabbed ahold of one arm. Chips of pale blue ice turned towards Tosh. Tosh felt his bowels turn to water at seeing the icy stare. “Bors, we are alive. I am sure there is a reason for this. Let us wait, please. As bound comrades, we are in the same boat?”

“Boat?”

“Same land skiff,” Tosh said, casting about trying to think of what the Northern might know.

The word calmed Bors. His body still looked ready for violence, but the giant turned to Tosh, and he said, “Very well, Little Bird. We will see if your tweeting will help or hinder us.”

The servant hadn’t stopped when Bors tried to grab her. She did pause at the end of the long hallway. “The Master hates to be kept waiting. Or having his property damaged.” She lifted a small golden rod with several jewels in a zigzagging pattern. She pressed three of the buttons, and the irons that had been dragging Tosh down lightened. Bors’ eyebrows ached in surprise as he took a step towards her. Tosh only nodded.

“Come along, Bors,” Tosh said. “We can’t keep The Master waiting.” There was a touch of sarcasm in his voice that the servant seemed to miss, and the giant missed it as well. I have to survive this any way possible. The giant is listening to me, at least for the moment.

Bors grumbled and stared back at Tosh. Tosh didn’t back down, placing his hands on his hips. “They have tech, and you have your hands. It won’t work.”

“It could,” Bors said, looking down at the floor, his shoulders sagging. He then coughed. “We follow your plan, Little Bird, for now.”

Tosh nodded, remembering the angry flare of the barbarian’s eyes moments ago. He swallowed and moved forward.