CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

It smelt like rot. Like seven day old meat. Then vomit and dirt. The growls from the cell was low and guttural. He stared at it. Yes, no longer his olive skinned seed. Not his funny, talkative child. No. Her eyes shone unnaturally. The blue orbs like glass, too transparent, too unrecognizable. He gulped. "She feeds? " he asked. "As you earn" was the short reply. He turned to stare at the woman sharply. She held his gaze with a force that equalled his. "How more does she need? " he asked, looking away from the woman "So much. And better if timely. She has not much of that left" the woman told him "She can be healed, sane, stronger and better. It all lays with you Sir" she said Why would you not want to be stronger, better and invincible? He ached to ask, but he already knew the reply. It was a game of cards, she may never be healed. May never recover, God knows how the vicious empire did it? Maybe they were made and fed from day one. Maybe sorcerers did spells on them. He knew i