Steel World Inc. Chapter Twenty Eight (Final Chapter)

 

“I suppose I should ask why everyone is naked?” said Karl Magnus as he regarded Emily and myself, as we hovered in the ruined doorway of the farm house. Frick stood further out along the gravel path, and from what I could see, Emily had seriously mutilated him. Whether Frick would be capable of an erection again was a moot point, though I believe medical surgery can do wonders. 

 

I thought then that this was all over, that Frick had lost.

 

I underestimated Frick’s cunning.

 

“You’re a sight for sore eyes, Karl,” said Frick as he limped a step or two forward. “I tracked Simon Rogers down. You may or may not know he stole two of your slaves.”

 

What?!

 

“Mr Magnus, Sir!” I quickly protested.

 

“Shut up!” swore Frick, with as much of his steady voice as he could muster. He turned back to Magnus. “Apparently, as far as my sources tell me, he’s been having an affair with Miss Madison for quite some time. When she was enslaved and he thought he’d lost her, the boy stole her and one of the girls destined for my ranch. Walked them straight out the front door, bold as brass. Even acquired a gun and one of your cars.”

 

What the fuck?

 

“Mr Magnus – he was going to steal Emily!”

 

“Quiet,” said Magnus. He gave me a stern look of warning.

 

“He was supposed to be helping me with the shipment. When the boy didn’t come back, I grew suspicious, especially as he had one of my girls on some pretext. By the time I made enquiries he’d slipped out and was gone.” Frick drew himself up to his full height, though doing so was painful. “I’m losing a lot of blood here, Karl.”

 

Magnus signalled to one of his men who reached into the car for a small medical bag. He walked up to Frick and sprayed some sort of foam over Frick’s ugly genital injury and the foam seemed to set, sealing the wound for now. 

 

“Mr Magnus, he’s not telling the truth! I took Emily in order to keep her from Mr Frick and…”

 

“I said QUIET, Simon. One more word and I’ll ensure you can’t speak again.” Magnus did not look happy with me. 

 

“You can check the camera footage at the front door, Karl. Bold as brass, he was,” said Frick.

 

“I already have,” said Magnus, nodding. “It’s exactly as you said, Willard. What are you doing here in Southend?”

 

“Turns out this was Emily’s idea. She thought it would be a good bolt hole for a few days. Don’t be offended, Karl, and don’t take this the wrong way, but the American families know of some of your outer London safe houses. We just do. We’ll talk about your security details another day. They could do with tightening up. Found them here and apprehended them. Decided to punish them both, especially Simon, but they got the drop on me, as you can see. I would have been in serious trouble if you hadn’t shown up.”

 

“Sounds like you’ve had quite the night, Willard.”

 

“You can say that. Wasn’t about to let a cattle rustler take your girl. The bitch did this to me, by the way. A girl in a collar dared to bite me.”

 

“That is serious and will be addressed, Willard.” Magnus stared at Emily who stood beside me. 

 

“It should be, Karl. We all know the penalty for a slave girl injuring a master. I will press for retribution.”

 

“You can speak now, Simon,” said Karl.

 

And I did. My words were a babble and not nearly as well structured as Frick’s were, but I told the story of how Frick was going to steal Emily, and how I went to fetch her for him, and how she persuaded me to help her escape, and how I also picked up Arabella, drove to this farm house, and everything that happened then, including the shoot out and the death of Arabella.

 

“He thinks quickly, Karl, I’ll give him that,” said Frick. “Your story all flounders, though boy, on the simple fact I have no wish to own Emily. I have plenty of girls. Why would I want to offend Karl by stealing one of his?”

 

“Because… because you’re infatuated with her! Because you resented her authority, because you…”

 

“Authority!” Frick laughed. “She has no authority, boy. I do business with her from time to time, her representing Karl here, and if she was in a slave kennel I might put her to use, but infatuated? You’ll have to do better than that.”

 

“Did you steal Emily?” asked Magnus.

 

“Only to keep her from that monster, Sir!” I said.

 

“So you admit you stole her?”

 

“I was doing it for you, Sir! He was going to take her.” I suddenly remembered the phone. “He stole your phone! He has your phone! I phoned it. I left a message for you.”

 

“Now what’s he talking about. I don’t have your phone, Karl. You’re welcome to search me, but I don’t have it. Never did.”

 

“You did! You’ve probably hidden it! It has my message on it where I tried to contact and warn Mr Magnus! I’m telling the truth.”

 

“Are you lying to me, Simon?” asked Karl.

 

“No! I swear it! I was trying to help you! I wanted to save Emily!”

 

“Because you’ve been having an affair with her?”

 

“No! Sir, it’s not like that at all! I’ve never touched her.”

 

“Emily, come here,” said Magnus suddenly. And she did. She walked with a nervous uncertainty to where Magnus stood. “Look at me.” And she did. For a moment Magnus regarded her coldly, and then he simply asked, “Who is telling the truth?”

 

The words hung in the cold morning air.

 

“Simon is.” She swallowed and I saw her eyelashes flutter as Magnus’s piercing gaze held the girl transfixed. “Master…” she added.

 

“We have a problem, now, Willard, because Emily is incapable of deceiving me.”

 

“What the hell are you talking about, Karl? She can lie just like anyone can lie.”

 

“She can try, but I would know. She is a collared slave, and more than that, she is my slave. She has always been my slave in her heart of hearts. She has always yearned for my collar, haven’t you, Emily?”

 

“Yes,” she sobbed, speaking a truth now that she could never have dared reveal before. 

 

“She has always dreamt of submitting to me. A man of Treve can tell such things in a woman. Emily is a natural slave when it comes to being my slave. And a natural slave finds it very hard to lie to her true master. Who is your true master, Emily?”

 

“You, Master. Oh God,” she wept again. “It has always been you!” The words tumbled from her mouth, and there was no doubting her sincerity now. She had for years fantasies about submitting to Karl Magnus. It was clear as day. 

 

“I love you!” she cried. 

 

“Love?”

 

“The love of a slave girl to her true master.” She was crying – wet tears rolling down her bruised face. “You have no idea how much I have dreamed of you collaring and taking me.” And then, unbidden, she knelt and pressed her lips to his feet. 

 

“So you see, Willard, she really can’t lie to me. Not so I wouldn’t know.”

 

No one said anything for a moment or two, and then Frick shrugged and held up the phone in his hand. “Was worth a try. Would have been easier for you, that way. So we’ll have to speak plainly instead. I have the North American council on speaker phone. The Ubar of The Northern Families. So before you do anything rash, here, Magnus, you should maybe listen to him.”

 

“Good evening, Karl Magnus,” came a voice from the phone. “You know who I am?” The voice was obviously American sounding. 

 

“Ubar,” said Magnus with respect.

 

“We’re just having brandy drinks, following a late dinner in upstate New York. From what I gather, there’s been something of an altercation. Most unfortunate. Whatever he’s done, you have to understand, Karl, that Willard Frick is from a highly respected North American family, and you do not have the authority to take action against him. You have my word that we will. The matter of attempted theft of a slave is disappointing and reflects badly on the otherwise good name of the Fricks. There will be restitutions. There will be compensation made. I assure you of that.”

 

“Restitution,” said Magnus, without emotion. “What do you have in mind, Ubar?”

 

“A lot of money. And Frick will spend some time removed from the council to consider his failures. There will be harsh words spoken, I assure you, Karl.”

 

“Harsh words,” said Magnus, again.

 

“Relations between the North American families and London have always been strong. He should never have done this. This is an insult to London. An insult to you. We appreciate that. No one here is happy about what Willard has done, Karl. You can be sure of that. But at the end of the day, it’s just a slave, Karl. Just a beast. Let’s not blow this all out of proportion.”

 

“There is the matter of my man, Simon Rogers. I am his Ubar. He tried to defend my property, and in doing so, his companion was killed before his eyes. I am his Ubar. He looks to me for justice.”

 

“And he will be compensated, too. I will make sure of that. We will be very generous.”

 

“Generous,” said Magnus. “He has lost the woman he loved.”

 

“Women come and go, Karl. A large enough sum of money cures all heartache.”

 

“I am his Ubar. He looks to me for justice.”

 

“Now don’t be stupid, Karl. You know that North America is dominant.”

 

“Is that a warning?” asked Magnus. “To be clear, is that a warning?”

 

“If it has to be, then yes. It’s a warning. You do not have authority to punish a Frick. We will do that when he returns to New York.”

 

“I am Karl Magnus of Treve. I am Gorean. Do your worst.” 

 

And then he drew a gun and shot Willard Frick through the head. I watched the man who murdered Arabella Whitlock die instantly. 

 

“You shouldn’t have done that, Karl,” said the voice on the phone as it lay now on the wet grass. “We will be in touch.” And then the phone went silent. 

 

--------------------------------------------------------------------

 

One week later

 

I can’t get over the loss of Arabella. And deep down I don’t think I shall ever get over the loss of Arabella. She will always be my one true love. 

 

I dream of her still at night, and in my dreams we get married and have children, and we buy a small house in the countryside, with a couple of dogs and a cat, and we never stop being in love.

 

The pain is excruciating. 

 

The pain is agonising and all consuming. 

 

I don’t think I will truly ever be happy again. 

 

And deep down I know that her death is my fault. No one says that to me, but I know it. 

 

I keep replaying the final moments in that farmhouse in a million different ways, imagining scenarios where Arabella survived. 

 

Karl Magnus flew me out to a private island in Sweden, called Danmarks Holme, situated in Stockholm, between Lidingö and Nacka. Measuring 2.4 acres in all, with 4.2 acres of water, throughout the centuries the island has been a place where Stockholm’s high society went for champagne breakfasts and croquet tournaments. Stone lined paths trampled by feet and hooves wind their way effortlessly through the trees on the island. Several hundred years ago huge stones were placed and trees planted around the shoreline to preserve the island's beautiful beaches and to prevent erosion. The island's own cape, Kärleksudden (The cape of love), offers amazing sunsets and along the southwestern shore there are large open grassy areas for games and play. The whole island is like a large park and to help during the summer, sheep are brought to graze on the island, to keep grass and vegetation in good shape.

 

“It will be good for your soul,” Magnus said. 

 

Karl remained behind in London to ‘clean up’ and ‘deal with a few things’. But Emily came with me.

 

I think she was surprised upon landing at the private airfield outside Stockholm that the collar wasn’t removed from her throat, and then when we were both driven and ferried to the secluded island by men loyal to Magnus, that the collar wasn’t removed from her throat there either. She was even more surprised when she met the girl at the house – Thorn, or a Thorn – I wasn’t sure if it actually was the girl’s name, or some sort of title. Anyway, Thorn was there to train Emily.

 

Train her.

 

Emily was taken away, with her protests silenced quickly, and she began training to serve drinks, to walk in a more sensual manner, to learn submission, and to be pleasing to her new master, among many other things. 

 

“I’m going to be freed, aren’t I?” she gasped as Thorn placed a snap lock leash to Emily’s collar and closed it. “I am going to be freed?”

 

It didn’t seem to me that Emily Madison was going to be freed at all. 

 

She was whipped on the first day on the island by Thorn, within an hour of us settling in. Emily was taken out to a large wooden pole set into an area of concrete, and, after being stripped naked, her wrists were tied to a slave ring set high on the wooden pole. She cried piteously and wept as the training girl (who also wore a steel collar) laid the lash about her body. 

 

“Do you know why you were whipped?” Thorn asked, after she finished with the series of punishing blows.

 

Emily did not know.

 

“There doesn’t have to be a reason, Slave. But in this case there is. You injured a free man. And you killed another. Ordinarily you would be put to death for that, but your Master understands and appreciates the nature of the circumstances and has chosen to be lenient. Nevertheless, the way of Treve cannot allow a slave to go unpunished for striking free men.”

 

Emily couldn’t believe she was hearing this. She hung helplessly from her wrists from the pole, her knees having given out on her during the whipping.

 

“Why haven’t I been freed?” she sobbed.

 

“Because you are a slave girl,” said Thorn in a matter of fact voice. She was Swedish, and like nearly all Swedes, spoke near perfect colloquial level English. “Only a fool frees a slave girl. Do you think Karl Magnus is a fool?”

 

“No,” wept Emily. She looked very scared now. “He is not.”

 

I suppose I should have intervened – said something, done something – but I felt numb from the loss of Arabella, and I felt nothing at all as I saw Emily whipped. 

 

Afterwards she crawled to the slave kennels, with Thorn’s hand on her leash. As far as I could tell, Thorn and Emily were the only collared girls on the island. 

 

The island has three houses and three cottages with a total area of approximately 350 m2 and in addition there are a number of small storage sheds. All buildings have ocean views or direct water contact. The buildings are built to a simple standard, but in Sweden the simple standard means far more than it might in England. 

 

Of the three houses, the yellow house is one of the oldest buildings, dating back several hundred years. Comprising 2 floors with an estimated total area of about 155 m2, the building houses a kitchen with a wood stove and two large rooms in a row, each with a tiled stove. Throughout there is an untreated wooden floor and there are four bedrooms, one of which was mine.

 

The green house is also one of the oldest buildings consisting of 2 floors, a simple kitchen, living room and some bedrooms.

 

The red house stands like a fairy tale house just on the water's edge, and this was, I was told, a private residence and off limits to me. I was told not to intrude on the resident there.  

 

Security on the island was in the hands of two Swedish men who lived in the green house. They respected my privacy, but they were there if I needed anything. 

 

During the day I read a few books (there was a well-stocked library in English), walked around the island (it didn’t take long, so I often made several laps just for something to do) and I listened to some music, both on my phone and on a vintage record player in one of the two main reception rooms. When I walked across the island I often listened to the second Tindersticks album which seemed to offer the melancholy and longing I yearned for. 

 

I had no access to the Internet, for if there was a wif-fi signal, no one here had the password. 

 

In the evening, Emily would serve dinner. Under the watchful eye of Thorn, her trainer, she would cook a meal, lay a table, and serve, kneeling, while I ate. 

 

She looked radiant after a couple of days. She moved differently, and jumped quickly to any command. If and when she made a mistake, Thorn would be there to reproach her. During the day I would see Emily training. There would be a strict regimen of exercises to improve the posture, health and suppleness of her body, and to strip away a little soft fat. And then she would practise serves, often on the grass lawn, kneeling, changing positions, often just small things like walking in a stylised feminine manner. I watched Thorn teach her to apply cosmetics properly, and to strip in such a way as to arouse a man. 

 

I didn’t care for any of it, despite a little morbid curiosity, for I was still numb with shock from what had happened to Arabella. Even so, it was obvious to me the transformation in Emily in just seven days. Thorn was moulding Emily into a seductive slave girl. Sometimes when I walked by, they would sit in a circle together and they would be talking. Thorn would be asking Emily questions and Emily would be responding.

 

I often heard Emily recite a litany of sorts. 

 

“I am a slave, he is my master. He commands, I obey. I am slave, he is my master.” And so on. 

 

Once, Emily looked up at me, startled, as I passed by. I saw her cheeks flush and she quickly looked down again. She couldn’t meet my eyes.

 

I grew bored, and I sunk deep into depression, but the island was peaceful, enchanting, and the fresh air was better than living in my cramped flat in London. I had always thought Sweden would be cold, but during the time I spent on the island in Stockholm, the day time temperature rarely fell below twenty six degrees, and the night time temperature was a comfortable fourteen degrees.

 

Emily grew more and more lovely by the day, but I was numb and didn’t desire her. I didn’t desire any woman. 

 

Perhaps I would never desire a girl again. Perhaps I would grow old, celibate, unable to speak to women again. 

 

I continued to walk around the island during the days and in the evening would watch old movies from a DVD library. 

 

On the seventh night there was a change in Emily. She didn’t wear the simple white slave tunic. She wore diaphanous red silk. She had painted her face with cosmetics. She seemed nervous.

 

“I am available to you, Master,” she said as she knelt on the floor in nadu.

 

“Available?”

 

“For use. If you want me.”

 

“I don’t want you.” And I meant it. Memories returned of that night in Southend, and the screams as Arabella fell in the meadow grass. 

 

“I understand, Master. But my use is yours should you change your mind.”

 

“Thorn told you to say this?”

 

“Yes, Master.”

 

“So it’s not actually your choice, then?”

 

Her face flushed as she looked down from my gaze. “I wouldn’t consider it rape, Master.” Her words were almost a whisper.

 

“You want me to use you?”

 

“I am a slave, Master. I have needs.”

 

“Go away.” I felt suddenly disgusted with her. Arabella would never have been like that.

 

And so she did go away. 

 

On the ninth day my walk detoured down a side path, and I saw the red house on the water’s edge. It did look like a fairy tale cottage, with a low wall, surrounded by trees. There was a woman there, dressed in a roll neck sweater, and tight jeans. Her hair was dark brown, like Arabella’s, but styled in a mid-length bob cut with bangs. As I watched she potted a few plants and then sat down to read a glossy magazine in the dappled sunshine.  

 

I briefly wondered who this mysterious woman was, but I had been told not to intrude on the red house, and so I slipped quietly away.  

 

Emily continued to wear diaphanous red silk in the evenings as she served and waited at my table. The implication was clear. I might have her at any time, if I so wished. She had changed. She seemed genuinely submissive. Thorn’s lessons had wrought significant changes in her demeanour.

 

On the twelfth day, Karl Magnus came to the island.  

 

“Hello, Simon. You are well?”

 

“Well enough, Sir,” I said. He could see the haunted look in my eyes and so he simply nodded.

 

“Your loss is great. I will not trivialise it. Will you walk with me?”

 

He had Emily brought outside and there was an audible gasp from the girl when she saw Karl Magnus again.

 

“Master,” she dropped to her knees in a beautiful movement that I had heard Thorn refer to as obeisance. 

 

“Is this my slave?” asked Karl with an amused smile. “What a surprise.”

 

I could see that Emily felt deeply aroused in Karl’s presence. More than that, she felt naturally submissive and aroused the way a slave would be aroused by her master. 

 

“Walk with us, Emily.”

 

And so we walked around the island. For a time Karl Magnus made small talk, describing the history of the area, and how the Danish fleet once besieged this island during the Swedish Independence War between Denmark's king Christian the Tyrant and Sweden's king Gustav Vasa in the 1520s. After this the island was named "Dansken" (‘The Dane’) which later became Danmarks Holme (The island of Denmark). The neighbour island was named Sveriges Holme (The island of Sweden) and it was there that the peace negotiations between Denmark and Sweden were held.

 

He explained how he had never made it to the airport, for his flight to Amsterdam. He had realised his phone was missing and he had turned the car round, but by the time he’d returned to London I was already on the run. He had looked for his phone, then looked for Emily, and after making enquiries had reviewed the CCTV footage and seen me leave the house with her. 

 

Magnus had, at first, assumed I had betrayed him. He hadn’t suspected Frick. 

 

And how had he found me? The gun fire and grenade blast had been heard by the local police, and a high ranking officer had phoned the house in London to complain, saying it was all very well that they maintained a policy of not interfering in the affairs of the Steel World, but Magnus couldn’t have his people drawing attention to themselves in that way, firing guns in the middle of the night. The local police could only cover up so much. Karl had investigated the safe house in Southend and he had arrived just as Frick was limping away, injured. 

 

The end. 

 

Emily walked in front of us along the coastal path. She wore her daytime white tunic and she walked with a grace and pride that I had never seen in a woman before.

 

“Will you free her?” I asked.

 

“Only a fool frees a slave,” Magnus replied. “Do you think I am a fool?”

 

“No, Sir. I do not.”

 

“She walks well, don’t you think, Simon?”

 

I didn’t think it was my place to comment on the way Emily walked. But there was a swish to her hips now that I suppose was very pleasing. And a grace to the length of her steps which seemed controlled and measured. 

 

I no longer had any interest in women, but I had to admit the curve of Emily’s bottom in that tight, brief tunic, was appealing. 

 

But I was numb with grief and felt very little of anything anymore.

 

“Have you been busy, Sir?”

 

“I have. You should know that the North American families have declared a Wild Hunt against me.”

 

I wasn’t familiar with the term, except that it obviously suggested Karl Magnus’s days were now numbered. “What are you going to do, Sir?”

 

“I in turn have stated my right to trial by combat. Single combat.”

 

“Oh.” I think he was actually serious, and that wasn’t a euphemism at all. 

 

“The North American families will appoint a Kur of the Steel Worlds. I confess the odds will not favour me, but we shall see what we shall see.”

 

“You could… please excuse me for saying this Sir, go into hiding?”

 

“I am of Treve.”

 

We walked some more and Karl Magnus continued to describe features of the island and expounded at length of his love of the Swedish and Norwegian landscapes. “The air is cleaner. And the forests and mountains remind me of home. I am told you have not made use of Emily?”

 

“Well, no, of course not, Sir. That wouldn’t… she saved my life.”

 

There, I said it. She had. She had saved my life. 

 

“You think, perhaps, you would be forcing yourself upon her?”

 

“I didn’t say that, Sir. I’m just… I’m not interested.”

 

“She is a slave. She has needs. The two weeks she has trained have brought out some of those needs. It would be a kindness if you used her.”

 

“I saw how she looked after Frick had…”

 

The memories came back. The basement. The cement floor. The cigarette burns on Emily’s shoulders. The haunted hollow look in her eyes.

 

“You are not Frick. And she is no longer Miss Madison. She is beginning to understand what she has repressed all her life. And I think she has always found you attractive, Simon.” Magnus smiled. “I don’t mind. She is just a slave.”

 

“But still.” I gazed at the way Emily walked and was momentarily transfixed by the beauty of her steps, and the wiggle to her hips and bottom. Yes, Emily had changed. Another time, another place, I would have wanted her. 

 

I would have wanted her very much.

 

The memory came again. Arabella gripping my hand so tightly in the wet meadow grass, her last few breaths choking back the words she tried to speak – words that I never heard. 

 

Arabella.

 

“I may never have another woman, Sir. I just… can’t.”

 

Magnus spoke no more of it. We rounded a turn in the path, and stopped at a picnic table that overlooked the water’s edge. Far in the distance I saw a luxury sail boat navigating the islands. 

 

“I have to tell you, Simon, your life is probably in danger.”

 

“I thought as much.” I should feel scared, but I was numb and felt nothing. Let them come. What did I care. “Will it be quick?”

 

“I may not be able to protect you indefinitely.” Magnus placed his hand on my shoulder. “It is a poor thing for a Ubar to admit, but you are a man and you deserve the truth.”

 

“I’m not sure I want to live, Mr Magnus. I really mean that.”

 

“I’m going to send you somewhere where you will be safe. Somewhere the North American families will never find you. We have a monitoring station in the vicinity of Lake Siljin.”

 

I had never heard of it, but I presumed it was a remote part of Norway or Sweden.

 

“There are computers that require operators. You have the required skills. The land is beautiful, and I will ensure you are comfortable. You will find yourself a new life, and who knows, maybe a new will to live. Life is precious on Gor. There is a beauty to life on Gor that is missing, here on Earth.”

 

Gor. Still with the euphemism of an alien planet for, presumably some remote research station here on Earth. 

 

“Send me there if you like, Sir. I really don’t care.”

 

“They won’t find you in the North, at Lake Siljin. You will be safe, whatever happens to me.”

 

“What about Emily? Is she in danger?”

 

“No. She’s a slave. We are men. There is a difference. They will not seek revenge on her.”

 

“I see.” I didn’t see. I didn’t understand. And I think I had had enough of all this. Send me away. I didn’t care anymore. Perhaps a new life was the answer. And yes, I did know computers.

 

“You won’t be going alone.”

 

I gazed at him, but he didn’t elaborate. Instead he called Emily over. She turned, pirouetted gracefully on the ball of her left foot, and dropped into nadu before us. “Master,” she said, lowering her gaze.

 

“Whose slave are you?” asked Magnus.

 

“Yours, Master. I belong to you. Heart and soul.”

 

“No, you do not.”

 

For a crazy moment I thought he was about to tell Emily that she was going to Lake Siljin with me, but no.

 

“I cannot keep you in my collar. You would make me weak.” He looked away. “I cannot have feelings for a slave girl. I’m sorry.”

 

We were both surprised to hear Karl Magnus claim to have feelings at all. Or indeed, apologising. 

 

“Master?” Emily looked scared now. “Please don’t free me! Please!”

 

“I’m not going to. Only a fool frees a slave.” Magnus seemed angry at the suggestion. He slapped Emily hard across the face. “Do not suggest such a thing ever again!”

 

“I am sorry, Master!”

 

She would not be freed. But what then?

 

“I will sell you. I cannot permit myself to…” he looked away. “Enough. You will be shipped to Gor and sold in Treve. There is nothing else I can do. I can’t keep you. I can’t… I will ensure you are sold to a wealthy man.”

 

“No, please! No!” Emily clutched at his leg and pressed her cheek to it. “You can’t! I love you! I want your collar! I want to serve you in the furs! You can’t do this! Please don’t sell me! Please!”

 

Magnus grew angry again. “I cannot have you in my collar! I cannot!”

 

And then I said what had been on my mind for a while now. “Sir, you told me, before you flew me to Sweden, that you owed me?”

 

“That is true, Simon, yes.”

 

“Then I ask now for my reward. If you don’t want her, I ask for Emily.”

 

There was silence at the table as Magnus regarded me with a knowing gaze. “I see.” And I think that then he understood what I was thinking. “She is yours.”

 

“What?” Emily gasped. “No! Master, please! I want your collar! Yours!”

 

“You belong to Simon,” said Magnus.

 

“And only a fool frees a slave girl,” I said to Emily. “But there is no greater fool than Simon Rogers, it seems. I free you. You are Emily Madison once more.”

 

There was a slight hint of a smile on Magnus’s mouth that quickly vanished.

 

I remember he had been troubled by Emily’s enslavement, and had never truly wished for it. But only a fool frees a slave girl. He could never be that fool, so I would be the fool for him. 

 

Now I had done him a second favour, though one that could never be expressed out loud.

 

“You are a free woman, it seems, Emily.” Magnus looked away from her. “Return to the house. Await my return. We will never see each other again after I leave tonight. I cannot allow myself that. But I will wish you well, and I shall see that you are given what you need to live your life hereafter.”

 

“Please, Karl, don’t do this! I love you! I am your slave! I am not free! I am yours!”

 

“Leave, Emily.”

 

She looked at me, and there was hatred in her eyes, which even despite my numb state, shocked and surprised me. “I despise you for this, Simon,” she said. “You have taken away my chance at happiness.” And then she walked back the long winding path to the house. 

 

“She will be a slave again, within a year,” remarked Magnus, sadly. “She has turned a tap that she cannot close.”

 

“I don’t think so,” I said. “But whether she will be happy, that’s another thing entirely.”

 

We walked some more, and then to my surprise we took a turning that I knew, from my previous excursion, led to the red house on the water’s edge. And there, tending some plants in the garden, was the woman I had seen before, with the medium length bob cut of hair, and the tight jeans and roll neck sweater. 

 

“Sally,” said Magnus as we approached. The girl turned round, surprised, and then smiled as she saw Magnus and myself. “Simon Rogers, this is Miss Sally Reeve. Like you she knows… computers. She will travel with you to Gor, to Lake Siljin. You will be working together at the monitoring station.”

 

“Hello, Simon,” she said.

 

Her voice was lovely and reminded me of the soft intonation of Arabella when she was alive. The sun was shining in Sally’s eyes so she lifted her hand to shade them. with her other hand resting on her hip. It was a cute and lovely pose. 

 

“Your transport will be leaving in two days’ time, but I thought you might like to meet one another before you leave on the outbound flight.” Magnus nodded towards Sally. “Like you, Simon, Sally has known grief. She lost her boyfriend three months ago.”

 

I gazed at the girl and saw from her pained expression this was true.

 

“I’ll leave you now. Come back to the main house when you’re ready. We will dine well tonight.”

 

And then he was gone. 

 

There was just an awkward moment with Sally and I facing one another. She had something of Arabella’s nose. 

 

“Well this is awkward,” she said with a soft laugh. “Do you think he’s hoping we might…”

 

“The thought just crossed my mind,” I admitted. 

 

“He is the most clumsy match maker, I mean, really.” She laughed softly again. “Look, we’re obviously going to be working together at this lake, wherever it is. Let’s say we’ll be friends, okay? Karl obviously means well, but…”

 

“Friends,” I said in agreement. 

 

“Thank you. Phweh.” She blew a little air from her nose. “I think he really hopes we might…”

 

We both laughed. 

 

“I’m not ready for any such thing,” I said.

 

“Nor me! Mark was… he died in a hit and run motoring accident, three months ago. The driver didn’t stop, just sped away. Police never caught him.” There was a look of anguish in her face. “We were staying in that Friday night and Mark popped out to get a takeaway curry. It happened so fast. Karl has been so kind. But he doesn’t understand the loss, not really.”

 

“No one does unless they’ve lost, themselves,” I said.

 

“Look, um, shall I show you around the garden? I’ve been doing some potting. It kept my mind off things, and, well, there’s not a lot else to do on this island.”

 

“I’d love that,” I said as she turned round with a swish of her trim little bottom.

 

I was numb. I had no interest in another relationship.

 

But I had to admit the curve of Sally’s bottom did look lovely in those tight pale blue jeans.