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the Sachakan roam the house unsupervised…
    “I suppose he’s a good patient to experiment on,” the Sachakan said, looking at his slave. “Perhaps you’ll learn something new.” The slave avoided his master’s gaze. The Sachakan looked at her again. “Enjoy yourself.”
    He backed out of the doorway and closed the door. Tessia let out a sigh of relief, and heard another exhalation follow her own. She looked at the slave and smiled crookedly.
    “Your master has a strange idea of fun,” she murmured. Then she set to work replacing his bandages.
    He made no noise as she worked, only occasionally catching his breath as those bandages that had stuck a little to the wounds came away. His injuries were looking remarkably good – minimal swelling and redness, and no festering ooze. She wiped all carefully with a purifier and replaced the soiled bandages with clean ones.
    When she had finished at last, the Sachakan’s visit was a distant, unpleasant memory. She packed her father’s bag and picked it up. Pausing at the door, she nodded at the slave.
    “Rest well, Hanara.”
    The skin around his eyes crinkled slightly, the closest he could get to a smile. Feeling pleased with her work, she stepped out of the room and started down the corridor to the servants’ stairs, wondering if her parents were awake yet.
    From one of the doorways drifted a voice that sent her heart sinking to her knees.
    “Have you finished, Tessia?”
    The Sachakan. She stopped, then cursed herself for doing so. If she hadn’t, she could have pretended not to have heard him, but now that it was obvious she had she could not ignore him without being rude. Drawing a deep breath, she took two steps back and looked into the room. It was a seating room, furnished with comfortable chairs and small tables on which a guest could rest a drink or a book. The Sachakan was sitting in a large wooden chair.
    “I have, master,” she replied.
    “Come here.”
    His request was spoken quietly, but in the steely tone of a man who expected to be obeyed. With heart racing, Tessia moved to the doorway. The Sachakan smiled and waved a hand.
    “All the way here,” he said.
    Stepping inside the room, she stopped a few paces away from him and concentrated on keeping her face as expressionless as possible.
    From behind her came the sound of the door closing firmly. She jumped, her heart skipping a beat. Then she cursed, because she knew she had let fear show on her face.
Let’s hope he thought it was surprise
, she told herself. She realised she was breathing too fast, and tried to slow her breaths.
    The Sachakan rose and walked towards her, all the while staring into her eyes. Someone had told her once that meeting a Sachakan’s eyes was to show him you thought yourself his equal. Unless you were a powerful magician, he might decide to teach you otherwise. She looked down.
    “There is a private matter I wish to discuss with you,” he told her quietly.
    She nodded. “Your slave. He is—”
    “No. Something else. I’ve been watching you. You’ve got some unique qualities, for a Kyralian. I’ve noticed nobody here knows your true worth. Am I right? I could change that.”
    He moved a little closer. Too close. She took a step back.
What game is he playing?
she thought.
Does he think he’s so powerful that he can change the way we live here in Kyralia? Or does he think I’d fall for something as stupid as an offer of a better life in Sachaka?
    “If I can’t convince anyone here that I can be a healer, I doubt it’ll be any different elsewhere, where people don’t know me,” she told him.
    He paused, then chuckled. “Oh, the healing is only part of your worth. The rest of you is being wasted even more. Look at you…”
    Coming closer again, he reached out and touched the side of her face. She flinched away.
    “. . . those fine bones. That sleek hair and such pale skin. When I first came here I thought Kyralian women were ugly, but now and then I’d see