Inherent Cost

by Alicia Cameron

  “What do you think about the SRA?” Jere asked. “I mean, I know you’re supporting me, and I suppose I’m for it, but... what do you think of it, personally?”

  Paltrek smirked. “Dane, have I ever beaten you in public?”

  Dane was kneeling at his feet, looking calm and content, like he always was when he was with his master. “No, master.”

  Paltrek reached down and ruffled his hair. “That’s how I feel about it. I think it’s fucked up to drag slaves to a veterinarian, to beat them in public. It’s even more fucked up to watch. Maybe a smack or something, whatever, but to really beat on a slave? That should be done at home, or in private. It’s like taking a shit, you know? Everyone does it, but they do it in the privacy of their own homes, and they don’t talk too much about it. And no state agency should come and check up on how you do it.”

  Jere smiled at that comparison. It was crass, but, then, slavery was crass. “I guess I see your point.”

  Paltrek rolled his eyes. “Spare me your outlander elitism. You’re turning me into enough of a softie as it is with your guilt and your looks and your appeals to my little bitch side, right, Dane?”

  Dane smiled at Jere for a minute before beaming up at his master. “You’ve been very lenient and kind since you started spending more time with Doctor Peters, master. Thank you.”

  Paltrek laughed. “Yeah. Turning me into some sort of abolitionist before I die, right?”

  “There’s the medical issue to consider,” Jere tried to defend his position. “Derma cariosus is a serious threat. Healers can’t fix it, and there’s no medication. It’s modern leprosy!”

  “Don’t give me lines. I don’t believe that some fictional ‘rotting disease’ is going to get us all—I’ll believe it when I see someone who’s really sick.”

  Jere raised an eyebrow. “Just because it’s not in Hojer, or even Arona, doesn’t mean it can’t be. Or that it won’t be tomorrow.”

  “It’s a convenient excuse to push the SRA through,” Paltrek said, shrugging it off. “But I think it’s a good thing. The way people treat their slaves now is nasty. People with any sort of breeding shouldn’t be doing things like that. The slaveowner protections are nice, though.”

  “Yeah,” Jere agreed. Those slaveowners protections would shield him from an audit like the one he was about to face, but only if the law went into effect. “Thanks for offering to store my things for me. I really appreciate it.”

  “Any time,” Paltrek replied. “After all, I know you’d do the same for me.”

  Chapter 15

  Pressure Testing

  With only a few days left before the certification, Wren was phenomenally pleased with Isis’s performance. The collar put her into the right frame of mind, and they moved on to finer details. Wren was tempted to smack the attitude out of her voice, but he limited himself to endless repetition. Isis was familiar with the material; her memory gift and the fact that she had been in and out of training for nine years made her somewhat of an expert.

  Still, she didn’t know all of it, and she seemed to be confusing some of the most important things. Wren grew frustrated, wondering just how someone with such an infallible memory could have this little knowledge of proper training.

  “I remember everything, but I don’t see or hear everything in the world. I’m pretty easily distracted, especially when I’m being hurt. That’s been most of the time.”

  Wren softened a bit at that statement, trying to focus on giving Isis the basics of information. The gaps in her knowledge were strange, but they filled quickly.

  Jere required considerably more work, and while the standards weren’t quite as strict for him as they were for Isis, it was still important for him to maintain his role. It influenced the ways in which the certifiers viewed him and it affected the way that Isis responded.

  They had been training for almost two hours, the longest they had done in one stretch. Wren was determined to see perfection tonight, and he knew he could if he pushed hard enough. Again and again, he stopped them, forcing them to restart for such trivial offenses as a lack of firm order, an insincere response, hesitation, a finger out of place. He knew it was harsh, but he knew they could do better.

  Finally, after a dozen tries, they did it perfectly, flawlessly. If this was the certification, they would have passed without a question, and from the barely concealed smiles on both Isis and Jere’s faces, they could tell that they had done well

  “Again,” Wren said, carefully masking his pride. He forced himself to look disinterested, methodical, as he had the first dozen times he had put Jere and Isis through this particular script.

  “What did we do wrong?” Isis snapped, looking furious.

  “Show attitude like that at the certification and they’ll probably have you beaten,” Wren reminded her, not giving an inch. “Now, do it again, and don’t argue back, or we can do all three of the scripts we’ve done today a few more times.”

  Tears started to show in Isis’s eyes, but she nodded. “Yes, sir,” she mumbled. They were trying to work on behavior and verbal responses with people other than Jere, but it was going slowly. Isis absolutely refused to practice with anyone other than Wren, and she only did that reluctantly.

  They went through the script again, and while there were no glaring errors, Isis and Jere were both thrown off, nowhere near as perfect as they had been. Isis was scornful and cutting her responses short, Jere was trying to compensate by delivering fewer orders, or by softening his voice. He wouldn’t even look at Wren.

  “Jere, cut the crap,” Wren warned. “You’re coddling her. Stop it. It’s not working for either of you. And Isis, lose the attitude. You know what you’re doing; by this point, I shouldn’t need to remind you. You both need to put some actual effort into this, or we’ll be doing it all night. Start again.”

  Isis and Jere shared a glance that almost made Wren smile; they were both so clearly outraged at him. Still, they went through the script again, perfectly this time, almost as perfectly as before. Clearly, they wanted to prove him wrong, and that was the exact attitude he needed them to have. They couldn’t just go through the motions when everything was perfect, they had to want it, and they had to hold up under pressure.

  “Again,” Wren ordered, watching Isis intently.

  She surpassed his expectations, dropping to the starting position without question or hesitation. Jere did well also, leading her carefully. It seemed like they were even more determined to perform perfectly to show Wren up, and Wren was glad about it. He was finally seeing what he needed to see. They finished with a triumphant look.

  “Again,” Wren pushed, forcing his tone to be dismissive. He wasn’t about to praise them, not just yet. He wasn’t going to let them win this easily; he had another goal that he wanted them to reach. He watched Jere closely, hoping he could make him respond as desired.

  Once again, they were perfect, although he could see Isis starting to break down a little. While she was moving and speaking and reacting as expected, there were tears in her eyes, and she looked strained. A harsh word would have her in hysterics. The response was unacceptable, but certainly she was being pushed past her breaking point. He had made them repeat scripts far more times than this, but he had always given feedback. This time, they were doing well, and Wren offered nothing but bored orders to repeat it. Wren doubted the certification would be half as frustrating as this, but he wanted to make sure that they could both tolerate it.

  “Again,” Wren said, once they finished, fully aware of how defeated Isis looked at the order, at the implication that she hadn’t done well enough. He knew how hard it was on her, even more so than Jere, and he actually felt a little guilty for putting her through it. Still, he had another purpose in mind, something that they were lacking. Specifically, something Jere was lacking, but Isis had to go down with him. It was a slave’s duty, after all, to suffer for the master.

  Silently, Isis took the position on the floor again, ready to start,
and when her hands curled into fists, she hid them against her thighs, doing her best to disguise her reaction to what was happening.

  “That’s right,” Wren said, keeping his tone careless and superior. “Keep going. We’ve got all night ahead of us, and I want it better. You do it enough times, you’ll figure out what you’re doing wrong.”

  “No,” Jere said, glaring at Wren angrily. “I don’t need to do it again, and she especially doesn’t need to do it again. We’ve done it perfectly and you know it, and I will not stand here and see her subjected to this. You either tell her something to change, or you let us move on. She’s done enough, and she won’t say it, but I will.”

  Finally, Wren had what he wanted. He smiled, drawing looks of confusion from both Isis and Jere. “That’s just it, Jere—she can’t say it, but you can. You have to. Take the collar off and I’ll explain.”

  They waited for the symbolic piece of leather to be removed before continuing. Isis looked utterly confused, and Jere looked angry. Jere was angry; Wren could feel it through the mind connection. It was a righteous, entitled anger, the exact thing that Jere needed if he was really going to succeed. Wren was pleased to have brought it out in him, despite feeling underhanded about his methods. Finally, they sat around the table, Jere and Isis looking at Wren expectantly.

  “You both did wonderful tonight,” Wren said instantly, smiling at Isis. “You were phenomenal. And Jere, I have to say—your reaction at the end was what I was trying to accomplish all night. I wasn’t trying to push Isis that hard, although I’m glad that I did and she was still fine. I’m very impressed with you, Isis. Jere, I was pushing you on purpose. She can’t talk back and argue, but you can get away with a lot. You have to be attentive to when she’s upset, when she’s had too much, and you need to deal with it before it becomes a problem. You can throw a fucking temper tantrum if you want, and it’s fine, because you’re a free man. You can be every bit as demanding and obstinate as you want, as long as you maintain control of her. Even if all you do is deflect attention away from Isis, it’s still worthwhile, and you still need to try to do it whenever you can. It’s your job. Think about it; you’re a slaveowner, you’re educated, you’re a doctor—you have every reason to feel superior to these people, and you need to act like it.”

  “This was about me?” Jere asked, incredulous.

  Wren nodded. He had no regrets. It had gone perfectly.

  “Bastard,” Isis mumbled, looking a little shaky.

  “You outperformed him,” Wren reminded her, smiling. “Seriously, keep that up and you’ll pass without a problem.”

  Isis grinned at that, able to tolerate compliments a little better as long as someone else was being teased in the process.

  “I should really do that, then?” Jere questioned, looking uncertain. “I thought I wasn’t supposed to fight back against things? Be a harsh master and all? Act like I’m from here?”

  Wren sighed, trying to figure out how to explain it. “It’s not that you have to be harsh all the time. You need to come off as firm. Most importantly, you need to come off as being in control at all times. She belongs to you, and it is perfectly acceptable for you to take offense at someone upsetting her. She’s yours; you’re the only one who gets to upset her. Think about a pet. If you had a dog, and someone else was yelling at it, or treating it badly, it would be acceptable—if not expected—that you would make the person stop. You might even get angry at them. In the same way, you can defend your slave. It doesn’t mean that the slave didn’t do anything wrong, but you are the one who corrects it.”

  “Her,” Jere muttered, absently.

  Wren rolled his eyes at Jere’s insistence. Plenty of people referred to slaves as objects; Jere’s insistence on humanizing everything was sweet, but pointless. “I swear, I’m half-tempted to send you to live with Paltrek for the next week,” he threatened. “You could learn some things there.”

  “You’re doing a good enough job of terrifying us,” Isis pointed out. “I’m so glad Jere is my master instead of you.”

  Jere frowned. “I think I can try harder.”

  “I know you can,” Wren agreed. “You’re allowed to be an asshole, as long as you come off as a possessive asshole. Don’t cry about them referring to her as ‘it,’ or any of that other stupid bullshit that you get upset about. They can think of her as an object, disregard her, enjoy her misery, whatever. That’s normal. Get upset when they are offending you. If they undercut your authority as master, if they take liberties with your property, if they insult you by implying that she’s not good enough—that’s when you get angry. Stop thinking of her as a person and start thinking of her as a trophy, or a tool.”

  Isis smiled. “I don’t mind being thought of as a trophy,” she pointed out. “Better than the other things I’ve been compared to.”

  Jere nodded. “I think I can pull it off. It’s just weird to think of her like that.”

  “You’re playing a part, Jere,” Wren reminded him. “And her safety depends on your ability to play your part well. So does mine. She’s at risk of not seeing her parents, of being retrained—if you perform poorly enough, you could lose your right to have slaves. We don’t have long and you both need to be as perfect as you can be. That includes things like this.”

  “And you’ll torture us until we’re perfect?” Jere asked, only half-teasing.

  Wren gave them both a rather sadistic smile. “I’ll keep torturing you after you’re perfect, too,” he pointed out. “I know you can both handle it.”

  Chapter 16

  A Strong Master

  Jere was glad to retire to bed that evening, lying down with Wren in his arms. Jere knew it was illogical, but somehow he felt safer knowing exactly where Wren was, and, more importantly, knowing that nobody else was around them. Despite his best efforts to avoid public attention, he had drawn a lot to himself.

  “Aren’t you the cuddly one tonight,” Wren teased, not protesting at all as he curled into Jere.

  Jere smiled, and they both indulged in a long, sensual kiss. “All this bullshit, the train, the audit, the certification... sometimes it’s nice to have a little reminder of how much I care about you.”

  Wren smiled back at him. “Do you really need a reminder?”

  Jere kissed him again, and when Wren wasn’t expecting it, he tickled him, laughing as Wren squirmed and tried playfully to get away. Finally, he stopped, resting his head against Wren’s chest. “No, but it sure makes it obvious.”

  They lay there for a while longer, content with sharing the closeness, and Jere thought about everything that was going on.

  “I’m glad that we’re getting ready for the certification and everything, but do you that maybe we should wait on this plan with Isis’s parents?” he wondered. “It just seems like too much. Too risky.”

  Wren drew his hand over Jere’s back, making Jere feel calm and safe and secure.

  “I think you should still go,” Wren said gently. “She’s so excited about it, and besides, you have every right to travel. That’s why they give you notice for those sorts of things. You can play up your meeting with the talent agency. Show them that you’re not trapped here, that you have other options. Hojer doesn’t have any claim to you, at least none that you should admit publicly. You can leave whenever you want.”

  “I’m not leaving you!” Jere protested.

  “They don’t have to know that,” Wren reminded him. “You’re a free man, you know. You have to act the part.”

  Jere grinned at the last comment. Wren was teasing, but the real irony of the situation still burned. “So free that I have to worry about people spying on me. I don’t get it. How is it that people don’t see how awful this shit is?”

  Wren smiled back at him. “They see it, Jere, they just like the benefits more. Who cares if someone might come inspect your ability to be a slaveowner on occasion—you get to own human beings and do whatever you want to them without repercussion. Most people would pass, and if t
hey failed because of something their slave did, they would just put the slave down and get a new one. No harm for the slaveowner.”

  Jere shuddered. “That’s not a benefit in my world.”

  Wren kissed him. “And that’s one of many reasons why I love you. But it’s like... you get to play God with other people’s lives. It’s got to be at least a little exciting, isn’t it?”

  Jere shot Wren a look of horror. “No! It scares the shit out of me that I have that sort of power over you. Isis, too, but at least I can kind of try and rationalize it that she’s a kid, and so, I mean, parents have that sort of power anyway. But if I could just give it all away, I would. I hate it.”

  “You shouldn’t be so quick to be opposed to it,” Wren said. “It’s a good thing. Look how quickly you got me out of that vet clinic. How safe you’ve been able to keep us both. That’s the kind of power you get from being a master. That’s the power that you need. You can accomplish far more as a strong master than you can fighting it.”

  Jere pouted. “I don’t want to be a strong master. Or a master at all. I just want to be your partner. Isis’s friend, or guardian, or whatever she thinks of me as. A doctor. That’s it. I don’t want to be a master, strong or otherwise. I want nothing to do with slavery, nothing to do with being a master.”

  “Being a master can keep us safe,” Wren reminded him. “None of those other roles can do that here.”

  Jere smiled up at him. As usual, Wren was able to make the kinds of arguments that really did sway him. “I do want that,” he admitted. “Fine. There’s exactly one good thing about it. I’d still rather it was someone else. I’m more fit to be a slave than a master.”

  “Just because you’re so good at following my orders?” Wren teased.

  “Yes. I like listening to you. And in general, I don’t like being the one in charge, not of more than my own life, and medical stuff. I like not having to make the big decisions. You always make them faster and better, and I like knowing that it’s you, and I can trust you. I can always trust you.”