“This is true as well! Trollox, explain yourself!” The Master of the Market’s voice sounded less like branches creaking in the wind and more like heavy boughs snapping and cracking in a hurricane. “Why did you attempt to trick this female into such an uneven exchange of gifts?” he roared at Ripper.
But if the Quinlow’s alarming display of anger bothered the Trollox, he didn’t show it. The yellow-eyed head assumed a mulish expression.
“Your Eminence, the female still owes us! And the bargain isn’t at all uneven! Why, that handkerchief had great value to us, while humanoid life is cheap! We sells her kind for stew meat in our shop all the time!”
“Just because you devalue Jillian’s life, doesn’t mean she is worth no more than a soiled handkerchief,” Kalis growled, speaking up for the first time.
“And who might you be, Kindred?” Master of the Market demanded, turning his knothole eyes on Kalis.
“Your Eminence, I am Kalis, a bodyslave,” he answered. “This female is my Mistress and she is priceless to me. I would not allow this Trollox to harm her in any way—though he seeks to rape and abuse her, I will fight to my last breath to keep her safe.”
The Master of the Market blinked thoughtfully.
“A good answer, Kindred. And I see in your heart that your words are true—you would protect your Mistress, though it cost your very life. Very well, I am ready to make my ruling.”
Jillian leaned forward, her heart pounding as she waited to hear what the Quinlow judge had to say. Somehow her hand found Kalis’s and she gripped it tightly, feeling reassured when he squeezed back gently in response.
The blue fire had died down in the Quinlow’s branches and his voice had gone back to creaky branches in the wind.
“Firstly, though the humanoid female does indeed owe a gift-debt to the Trollox, it must be one of equal value to what he gave her. He may not require the use of her womb or her life in return for a simple handkerchief.” His knothole eyes looked at Jillian. “Humanoid female, you must give a gift of equal value to the Trollox.”
“But I don’t have anyth—” Jillian started to protest.
“Take off your shirt,” Kalis growled softly.
“Uh, what?” Jillian turned to look at him, surprised. She still had on her soiled t-shirt—which she had managed to hang onto while Ripper was dragging her away. She’d put it back on in his shop and she didn’t care to take it off again. Still, the big Kindred was insistent.
“Take off your shirt and hand it to him,” he said, nodding at Ripper, who was eyeing them narrowly.
“Oh!” she exclaimed, seeing what he was saying. “Oh, right—of course.”
Feeling extremely glad that she had a bra on—Suzanne kept trying to get her to switch to float-dots instead but Jillian just felt more comfortable with a bra—she whipped off her t-shirt and handed it to Ripper.
But the massive Trollox refused to take it, crossing his arms over his barrel chest.
“Your Eminence, this in no way recompenses us for the loss of our eye!” the yellow-eyed head whined.
“That is not what we are addressing at the moment, Trollox! Take the gift!”
The Master of the Market’s voice grew sharp again and his purple branches burned with bright blue flames. He looked like a huge, angry tree that had been struck by lightning, Jillian thought.
Sullenly, Ripper held out a hand and she tossed the shirt into it and stepped back to Kalis’s side. Shivering, she crossed her arms over her breasts, hiding her white lace bra as well as she could. She was feeling cautiously optimistic—they seemed to have won the case. But the Quinlow judge’s next words dashed all her hopes of going straight home to the Mother Ship.
“Now we will speak of your other grievance,” the Master of the Market intoned, his knothole eyes glaring first at Ripper and then at Jillian. “It is true that the loss of an eye to a Trollox is serious, since they cannot regrow their body parts, as some beings can.”
“What beings are those?” Jillian muttered. And more to the point, what was she supposed to do about Ripper’s lost eye? After all, when she’d used the ion-scoop on him, she’d been acting in self-defense.
But apparently the Master of the Market didn’t see it like that.
“It is the judgment of this Court that the humanoid female must give a body part of equal or greater value to the Trollox in order to equal their score.”
“What?” Jillian exclaimed.
“We choose her womb!” Ripper’s yellow-eyed head shouted and the red-eyed head giggled with idiotic glee and shouted,
“Her womb! Her womb! We chooses her womb! An eye for a womb!”
The huge Trollox reached greedily for her and Jillian shrank back, her hand going to the ion-scoop in her jeans pocket. Was she right back where she’d started now? If so, she intended to die before she’d let the big Trollox rape her.