Cassia

By Robert Collins

A young woman named Cassia, journeyman in the Slavers’ Guild of the Settled Domains, is tasked to capture a mysterious outlaw named The Blue Pistol.

Her encounter with him will shatter her life and subject her to physical and emotional agony.

But in understanding his battle and her own past, Cassia will seek to overcome her pain and prove that she can be of value to those who are willing accept her.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Robert Collins
• Release date: Nov 1, 2012
• ISBN: 9781301828456

Robert Collins

Two people with different cultural backgrounds and ethnicities met at a European and Balkan music and dance ensemble named Koroyar and their lives became intertwined, combining their gifts to continue exploring life as an avenue of creative expression. Robert Collins has a Bachelor of Arts in Anthropology, and has been an educator in the Los Angeles area for thirty years. He studied writing with Joan Oppenheimer in San Diego, with Cork Millner privately, and also in the Santa Barbara Writer's Conferences. Elizabeth Herrera Sabido, at the age of sixteen years, began working as a secretary at the Secretaria de Industria y Comercio in Mexico City where she was born, then she was an educator for twenty-six years, and a teacher of international dance for The Los Angeles Unified School District. She has also studied Traditional Chinese Medicine, and is a Reiki Master Teacher. Attracted by the Unknown, the Forces of the Universe, and the human psyche, during their lives they have studied several different philosophies. Elizabeth has been involved with various religions, Asian studies, and Gnosticism with SamaelAun Weor, and Robert has explored spiritual healing practices in Mexico, and studied with Carlos Castaneda's Cleargreen and Tensegrity. Elizabeth and Robert start their day at four-thirty in the morning. They enjoy playing volleyball and tennis, and in the afternoons play music, alternating between seven different instruments each. Their philosophy of Personal Evolution has led them to explore over 110 countries between the two of them such as Japan, Nepal, Egypt, Bosnia- Herzegovina, the Philippines, Turkey,Russia, etc.

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CASSIA

A BLUE PISTOL NOVEL

by

Robert Collins

Ebook Edition

Copyright © 2012 by Robert Collins

Ebook Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Note: An earlier version of Chapter One was published as Slaver Girl in Aphelion, Volume 7, Issue 67, February 2003.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

About the "Blue Pistol" Series

ONE

LATE SUMMER

Cassia glanced at herself in the hallway mirror one last time. Her brown hair was pulled back tightly. Recently cleaned blouse and leggings covered her short, slender body. Her short-sword gleamed like polished silver. The tiny ruby in her Slavers’ Guild pendant shined fiery red. She smiled at her reflection warmly. She was presentable to Lord Master Varus of Iron Plain.

She walked into Varus’ study. The tall, dark-haired man was sitting in a wide chair, reading papers. When he saw her, he smiled and set the papers aside. He rose, and gave her a hug. Ah, Cassia. It is good to see you again.

He moved her an arm’s-length away and looked at her. You have become quite the young woman.

More ‘young’ than ‘woman,’ I think, Lord Master, she replied.

Varus laughed. He looked at her for a long moment. His gaze did disturb her, but only slightly. She knew his preference for petite young slaves and was aware that she still appeared younger than her natural age. But Varus had been a friend of her father’s. It was due to his lobbying that she was able to even enter the Guild, much less become a journeyman. If he found her appealing, it was her privilege to be admired. He had served the Guild a long time. His service and accumulated rank had to be respected, even if it meant tolerating an instant of lustful staring.

He finally waved at a chair opposite the one he had been seated in. Sit, my dear. How is your mother?

Very well these days, Cassia said as she sat down. I do not think she mourns for Father much anymore.

A good slaver, and a good friend. How about you? Does the Guild appreciate your talents?

She shook her head. I have applied for every post available, yet I still spend my time counting collars and delivering scrolls.

Varus shook his head. Such a waste. Still, there are few duties for a woman in the Guild.

Cassia didn’t disagree with him; it would have been as disrespectful as expressing displeasure with his gaze. The thought still came over her that, had she been a son, the Guild would have granted her prized duties. Indeed, part of her told her to be grateful that she had even been accepted into the Guild. She ought to be happy to wear a journeyman’s pendant. After all, she could be married to some peasant lout or a lowly merchant’s son.

She noticed a glow in Varus’ brown eyes. Sir, have you summoned me to take advantage of some opportunity?

Indeed I have, Cassia. The glow faded. You are, of course, familiar with the outrages of the so-called outlaw the ‘Blue Pistol?’

Yes. She repressed a shudder at the mention of the outlaw’s name.

Every one member of the Slavers’ Guild had heard of his crimes. He had appeared a year and a half ago. He had robbed several caravans of valuable slaves, as the outlaws of Freeman’s Hold had been doing for years. He had killed their guards, but unlike the others the Blue Pistol sometimes left one man alive to report his thefts.

That was not all this vicious outlaw had done. The previous year he had intercepted the Guild’s stipend for its protection of coin shipments from Saint’s Hope. He had murdered Lord Master Quintillus on an open street in Black Rapids. The little Guild-friendly inn at Cross Town was destroyed. He had then disrupted the Guild’s effort to open inns along the road from Cold River to Black Rapids, and in doing so killed more Guildsmen and stolen more merchandise.

This year the outlaw had gone further. The first caravan along the new road opened between Forest Clearing and Woodford had been wiped out. The hall at Woodford had been sent on a false trail so that he could murder Lord Master Craxus in his own bed. A group of journeymen on the road from Iron Plain to Cross Roads were murdered. A caravan close to Crown’s Hold was attacked and more slaves stolen.

However, the most brazen attack of all had happened a few weeks before. The outlaw was able to force his way into the hall at Rock Creek. He used exploding powder flasks and his magical guns to kill every Guildsman in the hall. He then helped the slaves held in the pens next to the hall to escape.

Still, after all these crimes, the Guild had done nothing to stop him. From what Cassia had heard, there seemed to be no way to stop him. Descriptions of him varied from one crime to the next. He seemed to appear and disappear at will. He could attack from concealment, fire his guns multiple times without needing to reload, and had the ability to fire farther than any gun known.

One man, she thought, and he makes us seem so helpless. I wonder if Varus has some idea of how to end this criminality.

I am quite familiar with his outrageous spree of murder and mayhem, she told him. I also know that little has been done against him, save an increase in caravan guards and such. Have you a way to combat him?

I have something better. I have a plan to stop his reign of terror once and for all time, Varus said. I require a woman to carry out this plan to capture or kill this outlaw. A woman who can fight, but not seem to be a threat. A woman willing to risk her life in service to the Guild.

An odd chill ran down Cassia’s spine. Tangling with the Pistol would be very dangerous. But success would bring glory to me, and to Varus. He always rewards those who served him well. It might also put an end to the loathsome drudgery my superiors keep assigning to me.

Sir, I an honored that you would ask me. This is an opportunity that I cannot let escape.

Varus smiled broadly. I knew my Cassia would accept. You have heard that the annual stipends of the southeastern halls have been delayed due to flooding?

I have heard stories of the flooding, yes, but not that.

The hall in Hilltown has volunteered to collect the stipends and transport them through here to Cross Roads. It is the only route open until the bridges are rebuilt.

Sir, may I ask a question?

Indeed you may.

I can easily accept that so much coin being transported would be attractive to this Blue Pistol. If I, an ordinary journeyman, do not know of this shipment, how is an outlaw to learn of it?

What has been kept silent about the Blue Pistol’s attack upon the hall in Rock Creek, Cassia, is that correspondence was stolen, in addition to the murder of Guildsmen and the loss of property. Among the correspondence taken was the letter informing the Masters of all halls of this situation. Unless he is an illiterate peasant, he is certain to have read that letter. I have concluded from that fact that the stipend caravan could be a target of his banditry. If so, this is our opportunity to entrap and eliminate this outlaw.

Cassia nodded in agreement. What is my part in this opportunity?

The caravan is expected to leave Hilltown in four days. You shall ride there as swiftly as you can. I will give you a letter to present to Master Francianus. He will take possession of your pendant, weapon, and clothing.

Lord Master?

"You must disguise yourself as the caravan’s servant, Cassia. The Blue Pistol does not kill slaves as a rule. This is the only way that you might escape his wrath, should he attack. If he appears, you are to make yourself available to him. Then, when he is vulnerable, you are to take him into custody. Use his infernal weapons against him, but do not kill him, unless you have no choice. There are many questions regarding his methods, and we would prefer that he be alive to answer them.

If he strikes between Hilltown and here, take him to the nearest Guild hall, either in Hilltown or here. If he strikes between here and Cross Roads, take him to the main hall there and send a message. Beyond there, you are to take him to the nearest hall and send for me. I can not provide you with another weapon or with shackles. How you bind him is a problem you must solve on your own. So long as he is not killed, you are to use your discretion. Any further questions, Cassia?

She paused for a moment to consider what he was asking. The plan was elegant in its simplicity, yet had not obvious flaws to undermine it. However, she would have to disguise herself as a slave if she were to carry out her part in it. While she was strong for her size, she would be at the mercy of the men in the caravan. While she found intercourse most pleasant, and her chastity chain quite effective, she would still have to debase her standing.

Varus seemed to sense her thoughts. He said, No doubt your are concerned about what I am requesting of you. I shall send instructions to Francianus that himself, the caravan’s Master, and its journeymen will have to answer with their honor and rank if you should report any mistreatment. Furthermore, I shall also state that I will give more weight to what you say than to what they say, if it comes to that.

Thank you, Lord Master, she replied.

As for your standing in the Guild, this will be a formal mission. If you conduct yourself properly, I will make certain that no whisperings undermine you. Your father was a man of honor who gave his life in service to the Guild. If his only child accounts herself in this task with honor, there should be no ramifications to her reputation or status. I promise you I will not allow your honor, or his, to be sullied by idle gossip.

She took in a breath after he spoke. Not only were his words a reassurance, but they also contained a message of favoritism towards her. If I complete this mission successfully he is certain to become an active advocate for me within the Guild. My father’s memory has done little for me up to now. For me to advance I need to become allied with someone of power. Varus was now promising to become that ally.

That should be compensation enough for any humiliation I experience making myself available for the gratification of the journeymen, she mused.

Your reassurances are more than generous, she said at last. I do have one question still in my mind, Lord Master.

What is that?

What if the Blue Pistol does not take this bait?

I am confident that he will.

I am sorry, sir. I did not mean to give offense.

I took no offense, Cassia. I merely expressed my confidence. If the outlaw does not offer battle, I have another plan in mind: infiltration of the outlaw stronghold to the west. Carry out this mission, and if the Blue Pistol does not appear, I shall give that second assignment to you.

In that case, Lord Master Varus, I humbly accept your request for my service.

***

I was difficult for Cassia to watch her fellow Guildsmen to be cut down. They had treated her as well as they could. Of course she had to do the hard work, disguised as the camp’s servant. At night they treated her as one of them, not as the camp whore. They gave a good account of themselves, fighting to the last even as the Blue Pistol shot them down from ambush. She struggled the urge to fight at their side.

The fight didn’t last very long, not with the Pistol shooting from some distance away. She kept her head on the ground. The only sound was of one of the men, Graius, breathing hard from a chest wound. She waited for the Pistol to approach, turning slowly to look at her comrade.

Graius gasped abruptly. A shot ripped the air. Cassia let out a squeak.

The hammer of a gun clicked.

Do not hurt me! she cried.

The hammer clicked again. This time she heard the sound of gun going back into a holster. Footsteps approached her.

The man was practically beside her before she could see anything of him. His body looked average in height and weight. He had fair hair. As he knelt down to her, she saw he had blue eyes and an open face. He looked more like a young merchant than a vicious killer.

Are you the Blue Pistol? Cassia had little trouble sounding afraid.

The man nodded. Yes. He knelt in silence for a long moment, looking at her. He looked her over. Are you hurt? His voice was calm, almost pleasant.

No.

He drew a pistol. Good. Stay here, and keep quiet. He walked towards the wagon. His movements were silent and deliberate until he opened the wagon’s rear door. Upon opening it he moved quickly, ready to shoot anything that might pose a threat.

As Cassia watched him, thoughts of her mission went through her brain. The pistol he held was the one that he’d dispatched Graius with, but how could that be? It had only one barrel, so unless magic was involved, it could only fire one bullet. This contradiction is as serious a threat to the Guild as the threat of the gun’s owner. If I could learn its secret, the Guild could crush its enemies.

She had heard rumors that the Blue Pistol carried strange guns of unusual abilities. If his guns were enchanted, this presented a difficulty of serious proportions. Wizards had always been reluctant to assist the Guild, and long ago had placed conditions on the handling of slaves with magical abilities. As yet the wizards had not organized, much less openly tried to oppose the Guild’s power and status. If the Blue Pistol’s weapons and actions were part of such a challenge, resisting the challenge would require a great deal from the Guild.

Further speculation on her part ended when the man exited the wagon carrying a locked chest. He put in on the ground near Cassia. He searched the bodies for a few moments until he found Master Marcus’ keyring.

Why doesn’t he use his gun on the lock? Cassia wondered. That’s what the outlaws from Freemen’s Hold would do.

He opened the chest and examined its contents. Copper and silver, he said. He glanced at Cassia. Would you like to be a rich lady?

She shook her head. That is Guild money.

Not anymore. He searched the camp again. He stopped when he found a shovel. He handed it to her and said, Dig a hole.

For the bodies?

No. A small hole, but a deep one. I will be right back.

Cassia dug. He returned leading a saddled black mare. He told her to keep digging. As she worked, he chased away six of the seven mounts the group had. He loaded the corpses into the wagon, removing nothing, not even their coin purses. He took a handful of mainly silver coins from the chest, and put them into a partly-full coin purse tied to his saddle. He then examined the hole she had dug.

It was slightly narrower than her, but half as deep as she was tall. He nodded to her, brought the chest to the hole, then dumped the rest of the coins into it. He helped her cover up the hole, then moved the wagon over the spot.

What are you doing? Do you not want the money? He shook his head. You could give it to peasants, Cassia pointed out, or other slaves.

It would still return to the Slavers’ Guild, he said. He lit up a torch, and set fire to the wagon. This way, the money just disappears. He freed the two horses that led the wagon.

He helped her get on the one mount he hadn’t let escape. Ridgewood is two days north. I will escort you there. From there you may go where you will.

They departed from the road. It was slow progress through the wilderness. Cassia hoped to engage the man in conversation as they rode. A hissed silence and an ugly glance dashed her hope. It was well past sunset when they finally stopped at a clearing just big enough for their camp and their horses.

She considered offering her body to him in gratitude for her liberation. It would be hard to bed a murderer and outlaw. It was by far and away the best chance she would have to capture him without killing him or harming herself. Indeed, her only regret on that account was that he had not kept to the road. They would be in the next village, and there she could obtain assistance from the village elders.

Mustering up her courage, and diminishing her voice to a whisper, she said, If you do not wish to sleep alone, sir,...

No, he snapped. I do not want such thanks. If I did, I would not be so crass as to demand sex. You do not have to offer your body to any man. Not anymore.

His reaction kept her awake for some time. Did