Blair's Branding

CHAPTER ONE

It was a surreal experience for Blair. He was collapsed on the floor, ears ringing from a well executed clout to the head from his handler, and all he could think of was the alien in the cage on an episode of the X-files shaking his head and repeating, “This is not happening. This is not happening.”

One moment Blair was in the woods above Cascade studying some ancient First Nation glyphs he’d found on a rock face. There had been strange hum in the atmosphere and everything felt electrified like a storm was rolling in, then he woke up in the hold of a ship with a bunch of other people, who from their attire he surmised, weren’t from Cascade or Washington State for that matter. It was the first leg of his adventure through the looking glass. He didn’t realize the vessel was space-faring until it landed and disgorged it’s payload. He stood on the landing pad with the other dazed captives looking around an alien place trying to figure out where he was. He suffered his first stomach churning moment when he realized from the two orbiting bodies in the sky that he wasn’t on Earth anymore. How far he might be from Earth he couldn’t say. On one hand the two orbiting suns said he wasn’t even in the right solar system, but his face was only barely stubbled, and he’d not lost considerable weight that might indicate a long time unconscious.

He didn’t have much more time for contemplation as their captors - human appearing - prodded them toward a low building. A small group broke and ran in the opposite direction - away from the buildings - and were dispassionately shot down, vaporized. He was amazed at his brain’s capacity to assimilate such trauma and still direct his feet to move and his body to respond to the prods and herding to the building. There they were clearly inspected and vetted. They were sorted into groups in front of individuals, a close-fitting bracelet was secured to their left wrists. He was loaded onto a conveyance and taken away. The trip into the city was long and silent. The other passengers were too shocked to speak he didn‘t understand his guards‘ language. In the city he quickly realized his situation; It seemed markets were a universal constant. He was a captive, he’d been brokered and now would be sold.

He and the others were herded into a pen like so much livestock. The pen was enclosed by a line on stakes, some sort of invisible fence? When he got close his bracelet tingled. He got closer and it whined - closer still and it delivered a sharp shock which was painful and lingering. Onlookers laughed as he stood massaging his arm.

The pen was exposed and dirty. There was no shelter from the merciless suns, and the dust they kicked up shuffling around coated everything. The shift he was put into offered little shade from the suns, and little cooling from the heat. It was a shapeless, unisex, sleeveless smock that came only halfway down his thighs. And his feet were bare. The analytical part of his mind saw that it served a multipurpose; it exposed the stocks attributes, preserved the society’s sense of modesty perhaps, but was impractical enough to deter one from running off or at least getting very far. The buyers who milled around were dressed very differently than he as well so he would be conspicuous in his escape. He was made even more conspicuous in his appearance. Blair was an average height human at 5’ 10”, with unremarkable coloring - slightly swarthy with a mass of curly brown hair. In this market he was a dark and exotic species. The populace seemed overly tall and athletic, and in essence fair, at least fairer than he.

The two men who currently consulted each other and scrutinized him, by example, were a strapping pair. They were tall and broadly built, and carried themselves in a way that caused others to defer space to them even in the crowded market. The populace did not seem afraid of them, more that they seemed to have an air of celebrity or status different from the rest of them. One was a redhead, the other a chestnut. They both wore their hair short, almost uniformly so. They wore sidearms on snug breeches tucked in to boots and sleeveless vests that showed off developed arms. The chestnut folded his arms and studied Blair briefly then clapped his colleague on his back with a laugh at some joke and drew him away.

The period of his display beyond that was thankfully brief. A fat - there were fat people here. Of course, a natural distribution of body types would predict this - old man spoke to the seller and indicated an interest in Blair. He was inspected and purchased and taken away. Blair was no fool. He could not put out of his mind what happened to that small group that tried to run at the space port, and he knew that until he figured out where he was and where he could run to, there was no point in trying to escape - unless captivity was worse than death - because escape at this point would undoubtedly end in his death one way or another. So he remained docile, allowing himself to be marked with a new bracelet and led away. He counted himself lucky in this new household. It seemed his masters as it turned out, were the large, redheaded man and his wife. He didn’t understand a word they said, but it seemed by the tasks he was turned to they were looking for a servant and valet.

He was trained by the fat old man who proved strict, inflexible. It was with this unsmiling man - overseer or fellow slave he did not know- he often remained. Rarely he saw his master. Blair had a sharp brain, well adapted to learning and overcoming intellectual challenges so he easily took to his new, relatively easy tasks. Over a period of “months?” he picked up the language. He had no way of knowing whether this was a standard tongue or a local dialect, but he was relieved to be able to communicate with those around him. His errands sent him out of the household often and he used these opportunities to assess this land. It seemed he lived in a kind of oasis. Outside of the city, he knew at least in the direction of the spaceport, the environment was arid and hostile. Land vehicles always carried extra water and solar proof blankets. Worse, once he was late coming back to the vehicle because he got turned around in the market and his bracelet began to ‘ping’. Soon city guards came to get him. So the bracelet had some kind of locator device. The locking mechanism was seamless too, and the bracelet closefitting so it would be a challenge to remove it - and it probably had an alarm to indicate a malfunction. In his current escape plans he concluded his best bet would be to cultivate the trust of his masters and get off world in hopes of landing somewhere less inhospitable and making his escape there…provided he could do something about the bracelet.

Then one day The Powers That Be put a crimp in his plans. He came back from the market and was greeted in the kitchens by his old teacher who directed him to the baths where he was met by other household slaves. He was stripped and bathed - thoroughly.
“What’s going on?” he asked the two old women. This was a task he typically attended himself, and he recognized one of the old women as his mistresses hairdresser.
“What you think?” this one clucked at him, rubbing sweet oil into his skin. “You’re going to another house.”
“What?”
She pushed him to sit on the bathing bench so she could brush his mass of hair. She clucked again,
“This hair would be the envy of any woman.” She trained it into a braid, clubbed the end and tied it with a leather thong.
She wouldn’t give him any more information than that. His stomach knotted with trepidation and anger. Trepidation because he had no idea what his lot would be in this new house. Anger because he had no say, no control over his life. It had been months and he’d gotten used to his ‘change in circumstance’ and only rarely was he reminded that his ‘change of circumstance’ was the he was owned. He was able to practice effective denial, to comfort himself with plans of escape. This change obliterated that denial and soured that comfort. He had NO control. If they said go he went, if they said die he would die. He chewed his lip to stop himself from screaming, crying, striking out, panicking.

He was dressed in snug fitting breeches and new sandals. The shirt they put him in was a soft, silky material, almost sheer, and opened in a deep vee to his navel. They stood back and assessed their work.
“Beautiful.” the old woman sighed and the other nodded in agreement.
The perfumed oil, the hair dressing, and now the style of clothing worried him - what kind of house was he being sent to? He’d say he was going to be some woman’s amusement. Maybe not so bad - unless she was old and smelly.

His old teacher, and one other slave, a young boy apprenticed to the smith, accompanied him to his new home. The servant who greeted them at the door directed them to a noisy chamber. There was a feast in progress when they went in. Curiously there were only men. They were dirty, and they lounged on benches in front of tables sagging with food and drink. He recognized his master, the redhead, and he recognized his friend, the equally giant brown-haired man. His teacher and the apprentice made deep obeisance to their master who stood up at their entry. Talking ceased as the other men, curious of the spectacle, looked on expectant.
“Quinn,” Rolof the Red began, directing his address to his friend.
“You might recognize this one as that beautiful boy” he said that with a theatric eye roll that made his friends laugh, “you’d seen in the market last season.”
Quinn was his name, Blair thought. Quinn studied him closely now.
“Well, unbeknownst to you I bought the boy and secreted him in my household. He is well trained in most things…but not at all trained in others.” Rolof fairly wiggled his eyebrows. “And I thought to present him on your Initiation Day Anniversary.”
“It is indeed your Initiation Day anniversary today, Quinn. I’d forgotten. Happy day.” Spoke one friend
“It would not have done for your Rite Brother to forget.” another friend added.
“Indeed” Rolof intoned. “And I did not. Happy day, brother.”
“Happy day, Quinn.” the rest of the men chorused.

Blair was taken thoroughly aback.
“Wait…NO!” he backed up shaking his head with a cry of dismay and was clouted on the side of his head by his trainer and presenter.
“Hold your tongue if you want to keep it.” the old man charged.
The blow was hard enough, and so caught unawares that Blair fell to the floor in a heap, one hand to his sore ear, head ringing as he tried to take in how abruptly his existence had changed.
Large booted feet came into the field of his vision and hands pulled him to his feet. Hard fingers gripped his chin and forced his face up for inspection. It was his new master.
Blair let his gaze slide down, unwilling to let his new master see his fear or defiance, but his master’s voice overcame his reluctance and peaked his curiosity and he caught a glimpse of startlingly blue eyes and handsome, regular if hard features before his master looked back over his shoulder to his friends.
“I know this hair.” he declared laughing. “T’is indeed that beautiful boy from the market.”
“That Rolof.” Another remarked.
Blair could not look up and associate a face with a voice. He was mortified, and afraid and angry to be spoken of and not to. He bit back a retort when he glimpsed his handler glaring at him from the side. Not wanting to risk another blow he subsided and studied his feet. His master’s name was Quinn.
“Truly, Rolof” Quinn replied. “I had only remarked how beautiful the boy was, even as dirty and disheveled as he had been.“ He sighed, “I was not in mind for a body slave.” He shrugged but shook his head in acceptance.
“Is this gift acceptable to you, Quinn?” Rolof asked but smiling as he already knew the answer.
“Quite.” Quinn replied taking in Blair‘s form as revealed by his provocative attire.

At that, Rolof motioned to the young apprentice who came forward wielding a familiar tool. He removed Blair’s bracelet - that had indicated his master’s house - and replaced it with another equally snug fitting bracelet with a new glyph - undoubtedly of his new master Quinn’s house. As with the other, this bracelet would identify him to society, divulge his location at any time, and could only be unlocked by his master or removed by taking off his own hand. His old teacher and the apprentice boy made deep obeisance again and took themselves away, leaving Blair with his new master and an unknown fate.