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they could carry him to, if he weren t a tribute.
More often than not Brasius had already left by the time Kynon awoke. To the
senate, or the city, or whatever it was the warlord did when he was not at war.
Nobody had ever bothered to explain it to Kynon.
Shortly after dawn Captain Rennick would arrive, and Kynon would be taken
to the bathroom, where he would be thoroughly cleaned he no longer felt any
indignity at the captain s invasive methods and then buffed gently with pumice.
Then Rennick would shave him, carefully working the razor over his jaw and then
to his underarms, chest, and abdomen. Kynon didn t even get scared anymore when
Rennick worked the razor close to his cock and balls. After the shave, he was buffed
again until his skin was soft and sensitive, and then lotion was rubbed in. Rennick
would massage him, working out all the knots and aches from the day before and
from the night spent sleeping on the floor. He would eat a meal of bread, meat,
fruit, and water, and then Rennick would take him down to training with Hera.
The long afternoons without Brasius felt like they lasted years. Kynon was
grateful for the books in the study.
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Lisa Henry
Kynon, looking down from the windows of his master s study, saw into a
garden on a private terrace. He knew the garden was private because he had never
seen anyone in it, and because it was full of the most striking flowers he had ever
seen. Even from several floors up their colors were vibrant. If it had been a public
terrace, Kynon imagined it would have swarmed with people.
Kynon often stood at the window of his master s study and looked down at the
garden. He wished he could feel the sunlight on his back. He hated the long
afternoons and needed all the distraction he could find. He missed his training
sessions. He missed his master. He missed Alysia. He was lonely.
Kynon was about to turn away from the window when he saw Brasius walk
onto the terrace. He would know him anywhere. There was a dog gamboling around
his legs and a little girl on his back. Kynon was shocked. He had never seen Brasius
so carefree, so open. He wouldn t have imagined it was possible if he hadn t seen it
himself.
Rennick found him standing by the window in his master s study and peered
outside. Fen, he told him. Brasius s daughter.
I didn t know he had a daughter, Kynon said, surprised. He had seen Brasius
as a friend and now as a father, and a part of him knew it would have been easier if
Brasius were still just a monster in his mind, the terrible, fearsome warlord. Seeing
him like that, swinging his daughter around in the garden, made Kynon feel more
alone. He would never know that man.
That s because your father s spies are rubbish, Rennick said.
Kynon didn t respond.
That was a joke, tribute, Rennick said. Come on. Let s get you loosened up.
They returned to the bedroom, and Kynon lay on his mat as Rennick worked
over his muscles.
Have you seen Alysia? he asked.
Tribute
135
She is well, Rennick said. Her master is very pleased with her, Procurator
Loran is very pleased with her, and she is glowing. Jorell doesn t leave her side.
Kynon was almost jealous.
Come on, now, Rennick said. Time for a session.
Kynon looked at him in surprise. But it s the afternoon, and I m not due any
correction!
Rennick helped him to his feet. This session is by special order of the senate.
He squeezed Kynon s shoulder to reassure him. Don t be afraid. Your master has
arranged it. He will be there with you, and it will be good, tribute, if you let it.
* * *
Kynon had expected Hera would be waiting for him in the training room, but
instead he saw a man in a blue procurator s robe and Brasius. Kynon felt a rush of
anxiety. He looked to his master for reassurance, but it wasn t Brasius who spoke.
The earnest-faced young man looked him in the eye. Commander Brasius has
asked the senate to administer this test today, against the recommendation of the
mistress procurator. The senate has acquiesced.
Test? Kynon s breath caught in his throat. Against Hera s recommendation?
He was afraid.
The man s voice was calm. I am Procurator Loran. You will not disappoint me,
will you?
Kynon recognized the name. Loran was Alysia s trainer. He looked at the man
curiously. He was thin and pale. His unremarkable face seemed kind.
No, master, Kynon said hesitantly. It was strange to call another man that.
The procurator nodded. Well, we will see.
The room was not Hera s. Kynon s eyes widened as he looked around. The
place looked like a cross between an engineer s workshop and a stable. There were
trestles and crossbeams and benches all around the room, and whips and bits and
shackles hanging from the wall.
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Lisa Henry
Loran clasped his hands behind his back and looked him up and down. Have
you been stretched today?
Kynon looked at the floor, flushing. No, master.
Then we will start with that, Loran said.
He led him to a padded bench in the middle of the room. Kynon lay over it,
taking his weight on his stomach awkwardly. His ankles and wrists were shackled,
stretching his body into a taut bow. He felt Loran s cool hands spread his buttocks,
and he began to gently twist an oiled plug into his anus. It was quite narrow at the
beginning and easy to accommodate. It felt like a series of rings. It grew wider at
the base, and Kynon felt sweat break out on his body as he struggled to accept it. At
last his muscles closed over the bulbous end. Kynon panted with the effort. It was
wider than a cock at the base and deeper. He was afraid it would do him some
injury. He looked fearfully at Brasius, and the warlord stared back at him. The look
on his face was impossible to read.
Loran massaged his lower back. Relax, tribute.
The ache in his lower back began to fade, but the plug was so large, so
uncomfortable that Kynon tried to move restlessly against the restraints. He could
feel the seams on the leather plug rubbing against his inner muscles.
After some time, Loran released him. He told Kynon to stand, and he tried to
obey. The sting of pain in his anus from the plug as he shifted position made him
cry out and try to expel it.
Stand, Loran repeated quietly.
He groaned, struggling to obey.
Why aren t you hard? Loran asked him.
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