Keiry spun around with a gasp, and Morgan held his hand out palm-down, his sword tucked against his body by his shortened left arm. “Please stay quiet; like I said, I’m here to help.”

“Who are you?” Keiry hissed, covering her breasts with her arms and moving around to the other side of the butcher’s table. Morgan did his best to make it obvious he was looking at her face and nothing else. “You’re one of Lord Blake’s people?”

“No. No, I don’t know who that asshole is, but he’s not one of my people. He looks human, yes, but I don’t know where he’s from.”

“He’s from Uthria, or at least that’s what he’s fond of saying while he ‘instructs’ me.” Keiry seemed to relax slightly now that she had the counter between herself and Morgan.

“I don’t know where that is, which is fascinating, but I think we have more pressing matters. Has he enslaved you somehow?” Morgan nodded to the gray metal ring on Keiry’s neck. Keiry reached a hand up to touch the collar, and the tears that had stopped when Morgan surprised her started to flow again.

“Yes! If I don’t obey him, he tortures me with this collar, and it keeps me from using Energy.” Her voice had gotten louder as she gasped out a despairing sob, and Morgan gestured with his hand to keep her volume down.

“Does it compel you to act in any way? Do I have to worry about you calling out for him and reporting that you saw me?” He spoke in a low voice, almost a whisper, hoping she’d follow suit.

“No, nothing like that. He has to tell me to do something,” she replied, still sobbing but speaking more quietly.

“Alright, well, keep working like you would if I weren’t here; I don’t want to tip him off. Do you want to borrow some clothing?”

“No, if he came in here and saw me with clothes on, he’d punish me.” She gave up trying to cover herself and picked up a large cleaver, turning to the meat. Morgan averted his eyes, looking pointedly to the side of her.

“What can you tell me about Blake? How long has he been here? Do you have any idea of his strengths? Any weaknesses? I’m pretty sure his bird creature kidnapped my friend, and I need to find her.”

“Blake is a devil. He’s been here a long time, I think, though I’ve only been here a couple of years. He’s converted the central wing of the keep into a kind of laboratory where he experiments on us. He has several pens where he keeps different captives, and further in are maternity cells where he keeps the pregnant ones.”

“What? Maternity cells?” Morgan felt heat rushing to his head, and a faint ringing had begun in his ears.

“Yes! He breeds us and experiments on the children! I think he’s trying to create elixirs to improve his bloodline.” Keiry saw Morgan’s face and continued, speaking quickly, “Your friend just arrived, and she was paralyzed from Lovely’s sting. He won’t have done anything to her yet. She’s probably safe for another day or so.” Morgan forced himself to breathe several times, turning and leaning against the wall. He couldn’t rush into this. He wanted to charge around the keep, killing anything that got in his way until he found Issa, but he wouldn’t do her any good if this Blake guy killed him. He had to think this through.

“What about Blake? I get that he’s an evil bastard, but how strong is he? I saw him chop that holbyis up.”

“He’s a powerful Energy user. He’s hinted that he’s coming up on his third class refinement.”

“So, nearly level forty, and strong with Energy. Has he ever mentioned his race? He can’t be human because the System treated us like we were new when my people got here.”

“No, but he often laughs and calls us mortals when mocking us. Aren’t we all mortal? Even those of us like you who have advanced their race?”

“I would think so, yeah. He sure looked human from a distance, but I wasn’t close enough to be sure. It’s that obvious about my racial advancement, huh? My name’s Morgan, by the way. I know your name from listening to Blake yell at you. Sorry.”

“Morgan, he’s very dangerous, but his only helpers that aren’t enslaved are Gunther and Lovely.” Keiry continued to chop a large hunk of holbyis haunch into cubes, and Morgan started to get an idea.

“What are you going to cook?”

“I’m going to make a stew.” She looked at Morgan’s face, and understanding flashed in her eyes. “He’s ordered me never to poison him. I’d hate for someone to put something in the stew pot when I wasn’t looking.”

“Yeah, that would be bad. Does Gunther eat with him?”

“Usually, yes,” she replied, then her face fell, “Also, he sometimes brings up some of his favorites to ‘keep him company.’”

“Hmm, don’t worry, I won’t do anything to hurt any innocents.” Morgan leaned back against the wall and “looked” into his storage ring. There, just as he remembered stashing them ages ago, were the five vials of what Tiladia had called a “powerful sedative.” He had no idea what sort of dosage he’d need to add to a stew; he didn’t even know if it would work after cooking. He’d add it at the last minute to minimize that, he decided. What if Blake had strong resistance? Morgan mulled it over and decided it was worth a try. If the sedative didn’t affect him, he’d have to try plan B. “Hey, I’m going to wait on the other side of that door in case you get company while you’re cooking. Do me a favor and give the door a knock when you’re getting close to serving the stew, will you?”

“Yes, I’ll need to step out to set the table; I’ll tap on the door then.” She smiled at Morgan, and he realized it was the first time she’d done so. She was pretty, but some of her teeth were missing, and she looked down quickly when they made eye contact. The heat that had subsided while he was planning rose again in his head, and he had to count to ten as he slipped back through the rear door to the kitchen to keep from charging off in a rage. He sat on the dusty flagstones, leaning against the crumbling plaster of the wall.

Morgan’s thoughts drifted into dark passages. He’d seen horrible things before, but something about the way Keiry acted spoke to him of a cruelty that went beyond what even the Yovashi that he’d seen had done. Yeah, the Yovashi ate people alive, relishing their pain, but it was a quick, brutal sort of cruelty. Keiry had been under Blake’s thumb for years now, and she was clearly traumatized. Worse yet, the things she described sounded like a new level of horror—breeding programs for enslaved people and experiments on their children? Morgan knew he had to put an end to what was happening in this keep, one way or another. He knew he was anxious for Issa when he noticed himself drumming his fingers on the cold flagstones. He hadn’t heard any more screams, and he took heart in that fact. Hopefully, Issa was just waking up and would be left alone for now.

Should he go try to find her? Get eyes on her? Make sure nothing bad was happening? Or should he stick to his plan and try to take Blake and his lackey out with his methodical course of action? He itched to hurry through the shadows and see Issa, but he knew the folly of that action: if Blake saw him somehow, he could very well kill Morgan in a fight, and then Issa’s fate would be sealed. He had to play it smart. He calmed himself by reaching out with his Guardian’s Senses yet again and feeling her presence strong and nearby. She was so close that he swore he could almost touch her. It seemed like she was just twenty or thirty or so paces away from him, deeper in the keep. What if he could touch her, though stone separated them?

Just like he did when he reached out to drain Energy from someone, Morgan reached out his senses and tried to feel Issa’s Energy. At first, there was nothing, then he felt a tickle of vibrant, earthy Energy, and he realized he was feeling Keiry. He stretched out his senses further, past the kitchen and through the void, as it appeared to his inner eye, and then he touched her. He was sure it was her, the vibrant pulsing, pure Energy of her Core. Morgan didn’t want to drain her, but he gave her just a little tug to know he was there, then he pulled back.

He couldn’t stop the grin spreading on his face like he’d just gotten away with cheating on a test. He supposed there was some risk in what he’d just done—what if he’d accidentally touched Blake, and the higher level man had realized what was going on? Still, he felt good knowing Issa was so close, and he hoped she’d sensed him and taken heart.

Morgan was on his third cultivation drill cycle when a gentle knock came through the door. He stood, listening carefully, and when he heard the other door open and close, he slipped back into the kitchen. The holbyis meat had been taken away, and the butcher’s block cleaned. Sitting on the freshly oiled wood was a large copper, lidded pot. Morgan quickly moved to the pot and lifted off the lid, his mouth watering at the scent of the rich stew within. He pulled a vial of the sedative from his ring, yanked the cork off with his teeth, and sprinkled it into the pot. He contemplated for a moment and then shrugged, repeating the process three more times. He decided to save one vial for future use. He picked up the ladle that sat on the wood next to the pot, stirred the stew a few times, then put everything back the way he’d found it.

Morgan moved to the kitchen door that Keiry had used and waited quietly. He wondered about the collar that Keiry wore and how thorough the compulsion to obey was. If Keiry saw Morgan dose the pot, would she have to throw it out? He glanced back at the counter and realized he’d left the ladle wet with stew, whereas it had been dry when he picked it up. Just to be sure that wouldn’t trigger Keiry’s collar somehow, he hurried over to the butcher’s counter and pulled an old shirt out of his ring, wiping off the ladle and the drippings he’d gotten on the wooden counter. Then he rushed back to the corner behind where the door would open.

He only waited a few moments before the door opened, and Keiry walked into the kitchen. She glanced around nervously, then picked up the ladle, holding it against the pot while she lifted it by its two handles. When she turned back to the door, she spotted Morgan. She looked a little startled but nodded without saying anything and walked out the open door. Morgan followed her, silently gliding through the shadows. They took two turns, and then Keiry paused before a set of double doors. She glanced further down the hall and turned back to Morgan, nodding. Was she telling him to keep going? He nodded back to her, and she pushed through the doors, letting them swing shut behind her.

Morgan sidled up to the door, listening for a moment. He heard an indistinct male voice and some clatter of furniture sliding around. Looking down the hallway, he saw another hallway branched to the left, so he moved that way to investigate. When he turned the corner, he could see the dark hallway continued past the room where Keiry had gone, but there was another wooden door there. A servant’s entrance to the dining hall, perhaps? Morgan carefully approached the door and saw that it was slightly ajar and opened inward. He inched one eye over the narrow opening and looked within when he got to the door jam.

He couldn’t have asked for a better position. The long banquet table was directly in front of him, and at the near end, with his back to Morgan, sat Lord Blake. Seated on either side of the table were six other individuals, all completely naked, save the dark gray collars on their necks. Blake's guests were two men and four women, some Ardeni, some Shadeni, and one Ghelli. The chair at the far end of the table was empty. “Keiry, clear Gunther’s place setting. He won’t be joining us. He’s worn himself a bit ragged with his exercise.” Blake chuckled, glancing around the table to see if his remarks had amused his “guests.”

“Yes, Lord Blake,” Keiry said as she finished ladling stew into the bowl in front of a tall Shadeni male. Morgan watched as she moved down the line, trying to see if Blake was eating yet. Oddly, he seemed to be waiting for everyone to be served before he started eating. Perhaps his sense of decorum at the dinner table overshadowed the fact that his guests were enslaved. Finally, Keiry finished with the final dish, and she set the pot of stew in the center of the table. As she moved to pick up the unused place setting, Blake picked up his spoon.

“Well, let’s see what sort of treat you’ve prepared, Keiry. Eat up, guests! You’ll need your strength on the morrow, as it’s your turn in the rotation!” He chuckled, but none of the assembled “guests” moved or said anything. Lord Blake took a big bite of stew, made a smacking noise with his lips, then said, “Excellent! I said eat up! Don’t make me repeat myself again.” He spoke smoothly, but such malevolence was carried with his words that Morgan almost felt compelled to action.

Morgan gripped the door jam he lurked behind until his knuckles turned white, and the wood creaked slightly. Everyone at the table was tucking into the stew now, including Blake. Morgan watched, waiting for some sign that the sedative was working, dreading that it wouldn’t or that it would only work on the enslaved people. What would he do then? What would he do if Blake saw everyone pass out and attacked Kiery? Morgan knew exactly what he’d do. He let go of the door jam and wrapped his hand around the hilt of his sword, waiting and watching.