turned her thoughts to her
subordinates, who were surely on their way to reclaim her. Or
at least, they had better be, she
thought bitterly, or
else they had better be dead!

The
only indicator that the day had come was the tiny sliver of light
filtering through a slot in the cellar doors. The fairy and the
psychic were gone, and in spite of the pillow Sonja had been so
generously provided, she had a terrible ache in her neck and
shoulders. She could not remember when she had fallen asleep, but
between then and now, anything that had been on her mind had been
given up to the psychic. “Bloody
hell!” she
hollered, and unleashed a stream of further obscenities that would
have shocked the city drunks. Her racket attracted the attention of
Ion, who flung open the cellar doors and swiftlyglared at her and left her alone in her
misery, ignoring the obscenities and attacks upon his character that
she cast at him as he departed. “These people are disgusting!”
she said aloud as he slammed the cellar door. “A thing of beauty
like the Jewel is wasted on such brutes!” She groaned and swore
under her breath, her face burning with anger and humiliation. The
moment she set foot on Rasta's soil, she had ceased to be Commander
Sonja Farrell and had become a worthless toy for everyone to play
rough with. She had been reduced to nothingness and cut off from her
magic—her only real strength—to be tied down and knocked around
like an angry child's ragdoll. Damn, damn, damn!

Unfortunately for Sonja,
she didn't have much time to mull over the injustice of her
situation; the pounding of