A/N: Hey guys! Here's my edit of my very first story, Spun on a Storm. I've changed some things and added some things, so I hope you like it. THanks to Kate of Carlay who was the original beta for the end of the story, and to KrisEleven, who's done all my editing. I couldn't live without you guys :D

Disclaimer: Not TP.

Chapter 1

Talia frowned at the lock on the slave pens. She knew how to open it, if she could just reach it. Any time she tried she felt as if she were choking, like someone was strangling her, so she moved back, eyeing the lock warily.

"But death would probably be better than the slave pens," she muttered to herself.

"All of you, out," a guard called suddenly. Grudgingly the slaves in Talia's pen, Talia included, filed out of the pen and up onto a raised platform in front of a crowd.

Talia shook her pale blonde hair out of dark blue eyes, glaring at the assembled crowd. She knew the kind of picture she presented, a pretty girl who would make some man a good bedwarmer, but she also had faith in her ability to keep her from going to that kind of place. She'd been good at fending off anyone who might seek to attack her, a skill she learned from growing up on the streets of Summersea.

The slave masters brought the slaves from Talia's pen forward one by one. She was, as usual, last. "Pretty girl," the master called out, bored by the process. "Just look at her. Chaps, wouldn't you like to have this bit waiting for you in your bed at night?"

"We'll take her," a female voice came from the crowd. Talia tried to see who it was, but all she saw were people. There was no way to distinguish this regal sounding voice from any of the others.

"Lady Sandrilene," the slave master said, straightening up. "Surely you're joking."

"I don't joke, Master Jorn, and you know it," the female voice said again.

"What, may I ask, do you need a girl like this for, my lady?"

"It is not your right to inquire as to what I plan to do with my slave," Lady Sandrilene said. Talia still couldn't see her. "Release her to me."

Master Jorn pulled Talia by the arm down off the platform, where he thrust her into the arms of a tall young man. "Here. Take her. We're glad to be rid of her," he spat, and took the pouch of money that a small noblewoman was holding out. "She was nothing but trouble anyway."

Talia looked down at the smaller woman with a glare. The other woman raised a light brown brow and said nothing.

Another, taller, woman was standing near the noble. She was dark-skinned, and carried a Trader staff. Talia looked it up and down, and then saw the hand that held the staff. It looked like a metal casing, but not comfortable at all. With a hard swallow, she looked away.

"Where's Tris?" the man holding her asked, his deep voice smooth.

"Probably up on the wall again," the black skinned woman said. "She escaped the crowd as soon as she could."

"We'll collect her on the way," the noble said, and turned to set off toward the town.

The man holding Talia shifted so he was only holding one of her arms and walking next to her. Talia looked up and tried not to gape; he wasn't anyone she'd suspect of consorting with nobles and Traders. He was very handsome, this stranger. Tall, with black hair cut short and green eyes. Those eyes, and his mouth, were lit with a kind of amusement.

A few blocks away, a redheaded woman caught up to them and glanced sharply at Talia with grey eyes that reminded her a bit of a storm. No one said anything, just kept walking. Every once in a while, one of the four would smile, except for the redhead with the strange braids in her hair. Although Talia thought she saw the small woman's lips turn up the corners once.

They tried to speak to her, but Talia wouldn't answer, and they finally gave up.

They arrived at a three story house a few minutes later. "I must get back to Uncle," the noble said. "But I'll be by tomorrow to get her measurements. Until then, Tris, don't murder her, and Briar, don't bed her. Daja, good luck." She nodded politely at Talia and walked toward the back of the house.

Talia looked at the noble's companions, wondering what their reactions were to the proclamations of the noble. The dark girl had a look of amusement on her face, the redhead looked impassive, and the man looked…insulted? Why would he be insulted?

"Well now," the black skinned girl said. "Come inside," she told Talia and went into the house.

Talia followed the woman inside to the kitchen, leaving the redhead and the man talking. "We needed a kitchen maid, and a helper, for small things," the woman explained. "I'm Daja Kisubo. The other three are my sisters and brother: Lady Sandrilene fa Toren, Trisana Chandler, and Briar Moss. We're mages, all of us."

Talia looked down at her hands, folded meekly in front of her, though she felt anything but meek. She didn't want them to get the impression that she'd be one of those slaves who needed inducements to do her work. If she could do that, escape would be a whole lot easier. But they were mages? All of them?

"There's nothing to be afraid of…what's your name?"

"Talia, Mistress." She figured blandness was better than anger, especially as she was getting to know them. Later…well, she'd see about later.

Daja grinned, and started through the house, urging Talia to follow her. "It's Daja. Talia, there's nothing to be frightened of. We're really not all that scary."

"You and I aren't, Daj, and Sandry only has her moments, but Tris is definitely scary," an amused male voice came from the doorway.

Daja smiled. "You and I have our moments, too, Briar," she said softly, and he laughed.

"Are you going to show her the gardens or the forge first?" was the next thing that came out of Briar Moss's mouth.

"I was about to show her the forge."

"Can you read?" Briar asked Talia.

She nodded, suddenly stung. Just because she was a slave didn't mean she couldn't read. "Since I was very young," she said, somewhat angrily. Though, thinking back on it, she realized that, with the way she looked, he was right to have assumed that she was illiterate. She was still wearing the clothes she'd had on for the last five months, since she'd come into the pens. Once a fine servant's gown, the gray mess on her painfully thin body could hardly be called anything but rags. They barely covered her, leaving her legs mostly bare and her chest nearly hanging from the top.

Briar held up his hands. "Apologies. I couldn't read until I was somewhere around ten." He shrugged. "Anyway, these are the kitchens. I assume you know how to follow directions?" He raised an eyebrow at her, daring her to comment.

Talia bit her lip and nodded again, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of knowing he'd gotten to her. He nodded brusquely. "Good. You'll be fine in here."

Daja rolled her eyes. "My forge is over there," she said to Talia, nodding toward a door on the other side of the kitchen. "I'm a smithmage. There shouldn't be a need for you to go in there." She pointed back at the metal box she'd set on the table when she first came in. "That's my mage kit. I'll know if you go in there, so don't."

"Same goes," Briar said, gesturing to the bag he held. It looked to be made of hemp or straw or the like. "Tris's mage kit you won't have to worry about. It's her hair." He smiled at the look on Talia's face. "Now, my garden." He opened a door that led into a beautiful garden filled with any kind of plant Talia could imagine, and more.

"You probably won't need to go out there, unless I need something and can't get it myself."

Talia nodded and then stuck a finger under her slave collar, unable to keep from scratching a horrible itch.

Daja and Briar shared a smile. "Come here," Daja said. Talia sat where she was told. Daja laid a hand on her collar, and Talia felt it loosen and then melt off of her. "The magic's gone, too," Daja said.

"You're not afraid I'll run away?" Curious. Her old mistress had been so afraid of the slaves that they slept in a shack in the yard of the house with two guards and a mage making sure they couldn't escape. Or revolt.

"We'd be able to find you," Daja said, a small smile lighting her face.

"You're not a slave anymore," Briar said, gently. "Well, I'm off. I've got to tend the shakkans. Miniature trees," he told a mystified Talia.

He left the room and suddenly Talia could breathe again. She let out a breath and didn't notice the grin on Daja's face. "What kind of mage is he?" she asked, still looking out the door he'd just gone through.

"Plant."

"And the others?"

"Tris is a weather witch, and Sandry has magic with thread. A 'stitch witch,' if you like."

"Why did you buy me?" Talia asked, turning back to Daja finally.

"I told you, we needed a helper," Daja said with a grin.

"Come with me, Talia," she said, crooking her hand at the girl. She left the room, leaving Talia to follow her, wondering again why the woman thought she was safe with Talia at her back. Talia looked around for a second, and, when she was sure no one was watching, palmed a knife to put under her clothes.

"You won't need that," Daja said from up ahead. Talia looked up, stunned. How did she know? Daja came back to the kitchen doorway, and watched Talia place the knife carefully on the counter. "We're not going to do anything requiring a late night stabbing, I don't think," she said, the smile on her face an attempt at reassurance, Talia thought.

She made Talia go through the hallway first, this time, directing her toward the servant's quarters. She picked up a dress from the bed and handed it to Talia before turning to the wardrobe. She pulled out undergarments and handed them to the other girl as well. "Come on."

"What now?" Talia asked, crossing her arms over her chest and staring at Daja.

"A bath. You probably haven't bathed in a long time."

"So? What does it matter?" The thought of a bath practically got Talia stripping right there. She hadn't been clean in so long, and she ached for the forgotten feel of her skin when it wasn't caked with dirt and blood and everything else, and the feel of her hair flowing free and silky down her back.

Daja grinned. "The only thing I'm worried about is the stench. Which is why we're going to take care of that whether you like it or not."

Talia didn't move. Daja waited, and when it was clear that the slave girl didn't intend on going anywhere, sighed. "I don't want to have to force you, but I will if I have to. You're not getting into those clothes until you're clean."

"And if I said I'd rather stay in these clothes?"

"I'd laugh and tell you to get in the bath anyway. That can't be comfortable. I'm not asking you to slit your own throat. It's a bath. After that, you can go back to being angry at everyone and glaring at them, I promise."

Talia blinked at her, and then gave in with a scowl. "Fine." She didn't know why she fought; it was the principle of the thing.

xXx

Daja left the bath, telling Talia to let her know when she was finished. The water, which had been clear and steaming hot when Talia got in, was murky and ice cold when she got out.

But the girl was clean. Daja let her dress in peace and then came to collect her bearing a brush and a couple of ribbons for her hair. "I hate dresses," Talia commented, straightening her skirts.

"When Sandry comes back tomorrow to measure you, you can tell her that. I'm sure she'll be delighted to make breeches and shirts for you," Daja replied, handing over the hair things.

Talia looked confused. "Wait. If Lady Sandrilene is a noble, why is she coming to measure me and make me clothes?"

"Stitch witch, remember?" Daja reminded her.

"I'm a servant," Talia said.

"Sandry likes everyone who works for us to have clothes made just for them by her own hand with her own cloth," Daja told her.

Talia's lips twitched in an almost smile at the oddness of that. She took the brush and ribbons and followed Daja back inside the house. They sat in the kitchen again, and Daja watched Talia brush her hair for a second before leaving the room.

When she came back, Briar was on her heels, carrying a jar of some sort. He sat down on the table in front of Talia and opened the jar. Talia watched, unsure of what he was doing, and let the brush and the hand holding it drop to her lap.

With nary a smile in sight, Briar used his fingers to scoop out some cream from the jar, and then set the clay container on the table next to him. He used a finger on his other hand to get just a little of the cream and dab it on her face.

His gray-green eyes looked almost through her, and his fingers were steady and sure as he applied the cream to her cheek and neck over the cuts she'd gotten from her fighting in the slave pens. "Hold out your arms," he told her, and put the ointment or whatever it was on the few bruises she had on her arms and hands.

He was scowling as he tilted her head up to apply the healing ointment to the scar at the base of her neck, but his fingers were gentle, even tender, on her slender neck. He glanced up once during his ministrations, and his eyes caught her dark blue ones. Talia raised a brow in question, and Briar raised one back, a slow smile forming on his face.

He finished rubbing the cream in and handed her the jar. "You only have to put this on any bruises, cuts, scrapes, and the scar from the collar once," he told her, jumping off the table. "It's not instantaneous, but it'll fade because of the cream within a few hours. I put a slow healing into it, otherwise it'd work a lot quicker." He stalked out of the room after giving a quick wink, and shut the door to the gardens behind him.

Talia picked up her brush again, but this time her hand was shaking. Daja saw, and sighed thoughtfully. "We'd warn you away from him if we thought it would work," the redhead, Tris, said softly from the doorway, and Talia turned her head to look at the older girl.

"What do you mean?" Talia asked.

"Just what I said. If I thought for a second that it was possible for you to stay away from Briar if I asked it of you, I'd get on my knees and beg." Then she smiled. "As that's not possible, I think I'll stay on my feet."

"Who said I wouldn't stay away from him?"

Daja grinned, and Tris smirked a little. "The question isn't will you be able to stay away from him, it's when you'll give up trying."

A/N: Please Review! Sneak peeks if you do, as always!! :D Love to all, Sarah