Demontech: Onslaught (28 page)

“Get dressed,” Spinner ordered the women. “As soon as everyone is free, we’re leaving here. You can’t travel in those night-shifts.”

Most of them ran to don blouses and skirts as soon as their ankles were free, but not all wanted to.

“
Ptaugh,
I’d rather go naked into the world than wear the garb of The Burnt Man’s slaves,” one said.

“I’d love to see naked women running about,” Haft said. “But right now it is better to wear something. You can get new clothes once you are away from here.”

They might have grumbled as they went, but they went quickly; the smoke that was settling in the corridor lent an urgency to their dressing. Whatever they chose, they all dressed.

But Alyline, the Golden Girl, the one for whose sake Spinner most wanted to free the slaves, wasn’t there. Her door was the one that wasn’t opened. Spinner took the key from Haft as soon as the last anklet was removed from the last serving maid.

“Guard them,” he said, and went alone down the corridor to the one closed door.

No banks of candles lit the room now. Spinner had to carry a lamp from the corridor to see his way. Alyline, the Golden Girl, lay asleep on the pillows behind the hanging frieze of gossamer drapes. She wore the same diaphanous shift she had when he’d entered the room the previous night. When the light from the lamp crossed her eyelids she whimpered and drew herself into a ball. He ached at the thought of the nightmares she must suffer. He knelt at her side and placed the lamp on the floor where it wouldn’t shine directly on her eyes. Then, as gently as he could, he unlocked the anklet and removed it. He leaned over her and brushed her lips with his.

“Awake, Golden Girl,” he whispered. “Wake to freedom.”

Her eyelids fluttered open. As soon as she saw a face so close to hers, her eyes widened fearfully and she jerked back, hard against the wall. Her lip trembled and she said weakly, almost mournfully, “He told me no one paid for me tonight. He promised.”

Spinner hid his shock and recovered almost instantly. He leaned back so his face was in brighter light and held up the anklet.

“No one paid, and you are free.” He reached out a hand to her, but pulled it back when she flinched from his touch.

He knelt quietly, keeping his face where she could see it in the lamp’s light, and holding the anklet where she could see it as well. A long moment passed before her wide, staring eyes focused on him.

“You? Why are you here now? You left.”

“This is why I am here.” He dangled the anklet on one finger and let it swing back and forth until her gaze shifted to it.

She gasped and felt at her ankle. “Where is it?” She sat up and looked at her ankles, felt them with both hands, pulled up her shift until it bared her entire legs and looked at them in shock. Then she slowly turned her face to him, her eyes even wider with wonder and her mouth agape.

“You did it! You said you’d free me, and you did!”

Spinner could only nod, the lump in his throat too big to allow him to speak.

She bounced up onto her knees, threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. Then she pushed herself away and her face fell.

“The slavemaster won’t let you take me away. His men-at-arms will kill you for this.”

Spinner shook his head. “The slavemaster is dead, and Haft and I killed his men-at-arms.”

Her expression lifted, but fear was still in her eyes. “But Master Yoel, he also has men. They won’t let you go.”

“Master Yoel has been dealt with. You needn’t fear him.” Spinner sounded more confident about that than he felt, but the innkeeper’s panic when last seen made it unlikely he would be a threat before they were safely away.

“There are slave traders here. They won’t let the slaves be freed.”

Spinner smiled at that. “I don’t think we have anything to worry about from them. They have other things to do.” He couldn’t stop a grin from spreading across his face. “Haft and I have been very busy this night.” He quickly told her about the fire. “Now, I am going out into the corridor. You get dressed and join us. But hurry. We need to be far from here by the time the sun comes up.”

He put a hand on her cheek, leaned forward and softly kissed her.

For the first time, Alyline noticed the female forms straddling his shoulders. She made a face and muttered something that ended with “. . . men!”

Spinner blinked, then stood, gave her a loving look, and turned to leave. “Hurry,” he said over his shoulder when he reached the door.

“That took you long enough,” Haft complained when Spinner rejoined him. “We’ve got to get out of here.” He started herding the women toward the stairway. “Where’s the Golden Girl?”

“Getting dressed.”

Haft shook his head. “You didn’t have time for that,” he muttered.

“And I didn’t do that.” Spinner looked away, his face burning.

All the serving maids milled about talking among themselves in the confines of the corridor; some were laughing nervously. They were getting skittish. They wanted to be out of the cellar and on their way to wherever they were going. Someone giggled in a high pitch that rose toward hysteria. It was cut off by a slap that sounded clearly throughout the length of the corridor, and was followed by muted sobs.

The Golden Girl’s door opened and she emerged quietly through the half-open door. She wore the same costume she wore for her performances, down to the tierra and jeweled girdle. The women already waiting stopped talking, and most of them turned their backs on her. When they started talking again it was in lower voices, tinged with disdain. Haft shook his head and grunted. He led the way up the stairs.

“Alyline!” Spinner said, almost in a squeak. He cleared his throat to get his voice under control. “You aren’t going to dance now. We’re leaving. Go back in and put on proper clothes to travel in.”

She snorted. “You have seen all of my clothing. Would you rather I traveled in my bed-shift? You’d be able to see all of me if that was how I dressed—as you well know.”

“N-No, no. That’s not what I mean. I mean, put on a regular dress. Or a skirt and blouse.”

“I don’t have a dress, or a skirt and blouse. I have this and the night-shift and that is all.” She twisted her lips in a wry smile and said bitterly, “The slavemaster didn’t think I’d need anything else. He didn’t think I’d be going anywhere.”

Spinner’s gaze darted about, and seeing how the other women were dressed, remembered they had different length skirts. Probably they all had more than one blouse, though none of them seemed to be carrying a bundle of clothes.

“Borrow clothes from one of the other women,” he blurted.

She snorted. “None of them has any clothes for me.”

Spinner quickly looked at the women who hadn’t yet gotten to the stairway. The backs they displayed were visibly stiff.

“Can one of you—” he began, but Doli cut him off:

“We are wearing all of our clothes. Nobody has anything to let her wear.”

Haft had come back to the foot of the stairs to move the women up in an orderly way. He grinned when he realized what was going on. “If that’s all the clothes she’s got, it’s all right with me. Let’s get out of here.” He looked at the Golden Girl and grinned wider. He was going to enjoy traveling with a woman who dressed like that.

Spinner glared at Haft, looked at the Golden Girl, glared again at Haft. “I’m going upstairs,” he said finally, and brushed past the women leaving the cellar.

Haft grinned after Spinner’s retreating back, then turned his attention to the other women, to keep them moving. When the last one reached the foot of the stairs, he bent over and looped as many of the anklets around one arm as he could carry.

“Just in case I run into one of the slavers,” he murmured to himself. “If I get a chance to make any of them wear one of these, I will.”

At the top of the stairs to the common room, Spinner turned left. At the end of a short corridor there was a dressing room. Spinner had seen dim light from it when the innkeeper led him to the cellar the previous night. A door from the dressing room opened onto the grounds between the main building and the stable. He looked and listened carefully at the outside door. There didn’t seem to be anyone outside. Inside the inn he heard the roar of the raging fire and the clamor of many men shouting at each other as they struggled in vain to slow the progress of the blaze. It didn’t sound like they were conducting a search.

Spinner didn’t think anyone would check the dressing room for fugitives, at least not until they were through fighting the fire. Looking up, he saw that the entire third floor was engulfed, and flames licked through several windows on the second floor. Thick smoke bellowed around the side of the building, and he wondered how many men were dying in the flames. Then, remembering that many of the men were slavers or in the employ of slavers, he felt less concern for their lives.

As they reached the head of the stairs, the women heard the fire, and panic threatened to rise among them. He had wanted to group everyone in the dressing room, but the fire was moving too fast for anyone to remain in the building. So, after everyone had crowded into the dressing room, he said to the women in a hushed voice, “Follow us. We’re going to the stable to free the people held there. You must hide
behind
the stable while Haft and I go inside. You’ll be safe there.”

Haft put down all but three of the anklets and slipped through the door, then Spinner guided the women through it single file. “Quickly, silently,” he urged each one as she went past. They followed Haft past the corral to the stable. Spinner saw that there were no horses in the corral and he concluded they must all be stalled inside the stable. Noises from inside confirmed his suspicion. The two men quickly moved the two dozen women behind the stable, where they couldn’t be seen from the front of the inn.

“Wait here,” Spinner told the women when they were bunched together. “Keep silent. Do nothing that will attract anyone’s attention.”

Doli translated his words into Skragish for the other women. She seemed to be the calmest of the newly freed slaves, perhaps because she was the only one who spoke Frangerian and knew what the two men were saying without having to wait to be told.

Other than one: Alyline, the Golden Girl, could also understand what Spinner and Haft said, and seemed in good spirits. Spinner looked longingly at her. Someone had to be in charge out there while the two men were inside freeing the laborers, and he wanted to give her the responsibility, but none of the other women had opened her door while he and Haft were freeing them, and most of them had been hostile to her since then. He bit his lip, then through Doli told them, “Doli is in charge until we get back. Wait quietly, be still, and you will be safe.” Unless someone comes here for some reason and discovers you, he thought. But he couldn’t think of any reason other than flight for anyone from the inn to come that way.

Spinner said to Haft, “Let’s go,” and they padded quietly around the corner of the stable to a door and stopped outside it. “Do you remember where the stairs to the upper level are?” Spinner asked.

“No. I hoped you did.”

Spinner groaned. He asked the Lalla Mkouma to make them invisible again.

The two extra little women clambered down.
“Ee wai’ ere,”
they piped up at the men.

Inside, stalls lined a central aisle the length of the stable. They each took a side of the aisle and walked toward the end, feeling their way along the stall gates. If there were a place without a stall, that might be where the stairs were—or at least a ladder to the loft.

The stable smelled strongly of hay, and oats, and of course horses. The animals had awakened during the excitement of the fire, but no excited men had run into the stable, and even though the ruckus around the inn had grown instead of abating, it didn’t come nearer, so the horses remained relatively quiet. A few had even gone back to sleep. The stable sounded normal to Spinner; the noises made Haft edgy.

Three-quarters of the way down the aisle, Spinner found a ladderlike stairway. He signaled to Haft, and they carefully started climbing. At the top of the stairs they stepped through a doorway and, by feel, realized they were in a corridor that ran the length of the stable above the inner bank of stalls. The smell of fresh hay and oats was stronger in one direction than in the other, so Spinner concluded that direction led to a hay loft. He led Haft the other way. They had covered nearly half the distance when a spark was struck and a lamp flared.

Standing there, invisible, Spinner and Haft blinked rapidly in the sudden light. Three paces away, the friendly stableman was doing the same. He held the lamp in one hand. Only he didn’t seem so friendly now—he wasn’t smiling, and he held a sword. The man leaned forward and held the lamp out ahead of him, moving it from side to side so the light reached the entire length of the hallway. He said something in a language Haft and Spinner didn’t understand, then hefted his sword threateningly and peered around suspiciously, shining the lamp along the corridor. When he still couldn’t find anything amiss, he muttered, lowered his sword, turned, and went back along the corridor.

Spinner and Haft, padding as softly as they could, crept along behind him.

The stableman turned as though to go through an open door, then abruptly spun, slashing across the corridor with his sword. The blade passed harmlessly through the air and hit the wall on the other side. He poked the lamp forward again and peered down the corridor, but again saw nothing. He stood straight and, ignoring the door he’d been about to go through, walked farther down the corridor, again muttering to himself. He settled on a stool. Evidently he had been sitting there, posted to guard the laborers like a prison warder. He left his lamp lit and darted suspicious looks wherever he thought he heard movement.

A voice came through a doorway. It sounded like it asked, “What’s the matter out there?”

The stableman answered, and to Spinner and Haft it was something like: “Nothing. Just my imagination. Go back to sleep.”