The chamber of shining black stone was large indeed, far larger than the slave chamber in the palace of the High Seat of Bellinard.  Wailing cries and moans and screams were to be heard once the large double doors were thrown open, giving one the impression of entering a nether region for the lost spirits of females.  Naught of males was to be heard save occasional shouts, and once within and able to see the lines and lines of metal enclosures, I also saw naught of males.  No more than females did the chamber contain, all naked within their metal enclosures, some chained, some not, some weeping or screaming, some silent, some writhing with pain or need upon the metal of their enclosure's floor, all exuding so strong a stink of misery and fear that the air thickened with it.  Again I struggled against the hands which held me, yet the struggle proved as useless as it had been till then.

The chamber was well lit by torches, and easily did I see the male who glanced up, saw the males who held me, and gestured them toward a door in the far end of the chamber.  Quickly did the males follow the one who had gestured, a male in light green body cloth, and soon were we beyond the door in a second, smaller chamber, one which boasted enclosures of different size rather than the same.  Once this smaller door had been closed, the silence which descended was akin to deafness.

"Ah, blessed quiet," sighed the male in green body cloth, turning to the two who held me between them.  "I am well aware of the fact that occasionally allowing them their hysterics makes them more obedient slaves, yet I live for the fey when this batch need no longer be allowed the privilege.  My ears ring longer than the hin they scream."

"And yet they learn that even screaming is a privilege which must be earned," laughed the male to my right.  "When the privilege is taken from them, they at last know themselves as full slaves."

"And here we have another who begins the journey," said the male in green body cloth, looking closely upon me. "Larger than most and seemingly most wroth - yet clearly a vessel for the devout prayers of men.  There will be many men who cry out the praises of Sigurr while deep within her, for there are few in chains - or without - to equal her.

"And chained she shall have to be," growled the male to my left, tightening his grip upon my arm most painfully as I struggled in anger.  "A true she-devil is she, with teeth as sharp as any devil in the Caverns of the Doomed.  She had undoubtedly been sent by the evil Oneness to plague us in our worship."

"Serain feels so only by cause of the fact that she bit him," laughed the male to my right when the male before me frowned.  "She attempted escape two corridors from here, and Serain was the one to catch her.  I arrived but a moment later, yet barely in time to take her teeth from his flesh before his flesh was taken from his bones.  Have a care with her, Podelm; we do not wish to lose you."

"I shall not be lost," said the male called Podelm, his frown turning to laughter. "I have a special fondness for the wild ones, for they have ever proven to be the most passionate and most easily aroused.  Once she has learned her place as a slave, I may even give her my attention."

"Which, as it includes sweets and privileges, all slaves are eager for," laughed the male to my right.  "Podelm, your attraction for slaves outshines even Princes of the Blood.  Where are we to put her?"