The Madcap of Spiders
By The Apparatchika [Author Info]I did not fear. Standing there half-naked, cold, wet and shivering. I did not fear; the sky was dark, like home, the air misty, the manacles tight and the gaze of buyers, a challenge.
The slave traders were a diverse flowering of the coastal region, as were we up on the selling block. Gawking, arrogant and with eyes gleaming with the spark of possessiveness, the buyers stood below in a mass, all of them, except one.
She stood there, alone, the only one of my kind. Her head wobbled slightly. Her left arm hung slackly and its hand trembled a great deal. There was an indescribable flickering red glow in her eyes, creating a fearsome and unnatural effect. Her face bore the signs of complete exhaustion and her moves suggested senility. Her hair was a white disheveled mess, and the top part of her left ear was cut off and dangled from a chain on its lobe. Her clothes were rags, and an ungainly halberd was strapped on her back. And I thought that all of my kind were fastidious in their cleanliness. Life is a surprise.
As soon as I was put on the block, all the signs of her wretchedness vanished. She fixed her flaming eyes upon me and with a tone of divine-like authority barked out an offer, even before the formal bidding began. As she walked toward the selling block, the buyers opened a path that was far wider than necessary. I did not understand why until she reached the base of the block.
To this day I do not know causes her foul body odor. Perhaps it is some strange combination of mushrooms, vegetables, and other things my mistress fetches from the trash. But despite her homeliness and odor she has always prepared the finest of meals for me, rothe steaks, soft breads and dark mushroom soups.
Standing there I now realized had reason to reconsider my earlier lack of fear. Her body odor is bad, but her demeanor suggested something worst. That stinking, lice-ridden female, with her halberd and snake whip, bore all the features of one who foolishly combined psychosis with authority. I had no doubt about what I was in for. Life is a surprise.
Taking out a paltry copper, the drow flung it at my captors. She jumped on the platform, grabbed me and cradled my lithe form in her arms. Now many females of my kind are strong, but this was unusual. Jumping down, she strode away with an aplomb that was remarkable as much as it seemed mistaken.
My captors, dumbfounded at first, recovered their wits and made a move to erase their losses. Two of them came within five feet of us with their swords drawn. My mistress stopped, mumbled a few words and dropped me. Within seconds I saw one of my captors fall to the ground writhing in a dark flame, while the other lay decapitated on the ground, his head a few feet away.
Holding her wonderfully rusted and now bloody halberd, she looked down at me and said, "Even a bitch can be a mother." She picked me up and carried me all the way to my new home.
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