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mentor, we won’t talk again or share our experiences?”
    “It would be best.” Sadness crossed Fatima’s face, but the expression passed quickly and she put Brigit from her. She turned and paced in the small space, looking uncomfortable. “It is simply the way of this place,” she said harshly. “Learn, or you’ll be sorry.”
    Brigit didn’t know what to say. Words would have caught in her throat anyway. The spartan living conditions, the regimented lifestyle, and the nutritious but bland food—she could adjust to that. She could even deal with servicing the men because she had to, but to live without friends? To have no one she could trust?
    She took a deep breath. “What will they do to this woman you don’t know or care about?” She didn’t bother hiding the bitterness from her voice.
    Fatima cast her a troubled glance and then turned away. “She most likely upset a guest, so it is his decision. We won’t know what he chose until we arrive.”
    Horror filled Brigit. “But, what’s to stop a man from saying we did something wrong? Suppose something happens that isn’t our fault? He still gets to punish us? That’s not fair!” Too late she realized what a ridiculous statement that was.
    “This is not America, Brigit. We have no rights. If we are blamed wrongfully, we must beg the guest’s pardon and hope he will look upon us kindly.”
    “Bullshit.” Brigit sat on the bed, crossed her legs, and swung the one on top. “This is all bullshit.”
    Fatima shrugged. “I once saw a girl strapped to a wooden wheel. The guards turned the wheel so that she was dunked in a pond, and they left her there for a long time. I understood that some girls could be revived after such punishment, but she could not be. She died before our eyes, and all because she took too long to respond to a guest’s wishes. There is no authority here. Any of us can meet Allah on the whim of a guest, a guard, or the Claw.”
    “Barbaric damn people.”
“As you say.”
    The door swung open. Brigit stood and Fatima took the end of her leash. They hurried to the dining hall where Fatima secured Brigit’s leash to the table leg tightly enough to restrict her movement.
    Two guards dragged a naked woman to the center of the room. They attached her wrists to a bar, then raised it over her head where they attached it to chains hanging from the ceiling. They separated her feet and attached each ankle to the ends of another bar.
    With a wild glint in her eyes, the woman’s gaze raked the crowd of women and then shot to a man sitting at the high table reserved for the guards. She cried out to him in a language Brigit didn’t understand. Her tone begged. To no avail.
    The man flicked his hand, and the woman dissolved into tears. A different guard, the largest man Brigit had ever seen, spoke. A gasp escaped the woman, and then she started crying harder.
    In a low voice, Fatima translated. “For taking too long to drop to her knees and take our guest into her mouth, the customer has requested the Violet Wand.” Fatima took Brigit’s hand through the robe and squeezed.
    The guard held out a wand-like stick with a clear glass bulb at the tip. When he flipped a switch on the wand, purple sparks shot around inside the bulb. He held it near the woman’s side and an arc of purple electricity shot from the bulb to her skin.
    The woman shrieked and tried to move away, but there was nowhere to go. He touched her breast, and her scream rang through the hall.
    Male laughter came from the high table where the pig who’d condemned the woman to the Violet Wand pointed and laughed. Another man joined him. He wore a white robe and turban. Black gloves covered his hands, and he fiddled with a string of beads. He sat with the guest but didn’t laugh, just watched without emotion. Brigit would kill them without a second thought, given the chance. As it was, Fatima tugged on the leash, making her face forward again.
    Except for the man, silence filled