<i>You forgot to say please, </i>Cygnus thought. "As much as you would love to return to the slaves, I have need of you," he said. "Rest assured that I will not hurt you more than I already have." Cygnus grabbed onto one of his arms, dragging Altair over to one of two chairs placed in front of his desk. He pulled Altair up to sit on one of the chairs, but when the slave proved to be too droopy to sit on the chair, he instead laid Altair down onto both of the chairs, stomach side down. Then he circled around to the other side of his desk, opening the right bottommost drawer to pull out a small parcel of food wrapped in linen, a jar full of apple jam, a bowl, and a tiny spoon made of polished walrus tusk. Returning to Altair, Cygnus sat down on the floor, crossing his legs.<br/><br/><i>I abhor slaves that cry too much. </i>Tears continued down Altair's face unabated, as if there was an ocean of them stored within the slave's eyes. But yet his face was utterly blank, devoid of emotion. Not even the scrunching of misery or the shaking of melancholy. Altair was a statue, one made of broken flesh and soul, and he closely resembled the type that might be found in temples. Altair fit every description of the sort of slave he took to be anathema.<i>Yet, it brings me joy to see you suffer. </i>Altair broken in despair was satisfying in a sadistic way. The slave had played a game with him, and now he was feeling the consequences of being a player. He touched a finger to the slave's neck, eliciting a shake.<i>You shake more than your hips do... lovely.</i><br/><br/>The next task he had for Altair was not one of brutality or cruelty, but one of practicality. He needed Altair to eat and drink. Otherwise, the slave would waste away into a skeleton before they reached shore.<i>Fortunately for you, you are worth more to me alive than dead. Otherwise, I would let you die. </i>The last time he could recall the slave eating was two evenings ago, when he had been rewarded for his sexual favors. Otherwise he hadn't eaten the day he was whipped, nor the following day when the crew was recuperating from the storm that took Mors.<i>Better to spare the food so I can earn more gold to buy more. </i><br/><br/>He opened the parcel that had been wrapped in cloth, revealing a bottle of beer, a smaller one of lime juice, a few hard biscuits, and chunks of hard pork caked with salt. Placing the biscuits into the bowl, he poured beer over the hardtack until they were soaking it the beer. Then he dropped a chunk of the pork into the concoction, making sure that the pork was soaked too. He gave the mixture a stir, letting the spoon settle inside the bowl.<br/><br/>Picking up the bottle of beer, now half full, Cygnus pressed the neck of the bottle to Altair's lips. "Drink before I drown you," Cygnus demanded, pressing the bottle against the slave's teeth. "It's simpler to do than resist, isn't it?"