Epic Of Palins 01 - Dagger Star (6 page)

Three Toes arrived promptly with two full mugs. “Stupid fools,” he muttered as he stepped over Vel. “Here, now, you men, drag these louts out and throw them in the street.” He placed two mugs down, and took Red’s offered coin. “My thanks for your restraint, Red Gloves.”

Red shrugged. “He deserved a beating, not my blade. My thanks that you didn’t summon the Watch.”

“Watch?” Three Toes grimaced. “There’s no Watch here, nor a lord. Folks have to fend for themselves.” He glanced over at his bar, crowded with thirsty men. “Your pardon, warriors.”

Bethral glanced at Red as he limped away. “No Watch?”

“Work for us, then,” Red responded, taking a drink.

Bethral shrugged. “We’ll know in the morning.”

THERE was no work to be had, much to Red’s dismay.

It wasn’t that folk didn’t need protection. But there were none who could afford private mercenaries. It had taken half a day of talking to possible employers, but none would hire them.

Bethral shrugged, accepting the situation. Red had pressed the point, but had no luck. She finally accepted that they needed to look elsewhere after talking to Three Toes over the noon meal and an ale or two. He’d explained that the town of Orloss might be a better choice for them. It was on a major trade route, a three-day ride away. He was sure they’d find an employer there.

At least they could buy supplies here. The market wasn’t big, but large enough to have what they needed. Dried meat, bread, and hard cheese. Some grain for the horses. Bethral found more molasses and kavage. She had the coin pouch now, bargaining for a pound of salt pork and a small sack of flour. Red waited patiently as she dickered, balancing the various packages.

Bethral walked over, well pleased with her purchase. “Enough for three days, easy.”

Red nodded, taking the packages so that Bethral could tie the money pouch to her belt. “We can leave in the morning. Tonight a bit of company, eh?”

“We should have gotten separate rooms, then,” Bethral said.

“Who needs a room?” Red asked with a grin. “There’s the stable, the necessary, the—”

The sound of weeping and the clink of chains made them both stop dead to stare at the sight before them.

There was a low wooden platform, with a small crowd of people before it. Lined up on the platform were men and women, most in rags that barely covered them, chained together like nothing Red had ever seen.

They stopped, stunned. Bethral spoke first, her voice a bare whisper. “The goatherder said there was slavery.”

Red’s face was grim.

A long line of chained slaves was being taken away, and it was clear that the sale was almost over as the buyers gathered to settle up and take their purchases home. The crowd was thinning quickly when one of the sellers stepped forward. “One more, we have one more to offer today, but this one’s not fit for more than feed for your dogs.”

The handlers dragged out a man in chains and dropped him to the platform. If man it was. Red had seen better corpses. Skin clung to bone, with every rib showing. The man was naked, crusted with filth, his skull shaved. Naked, that was, except for the welts, bruises, and open wounds, and the shackles tight around his wrists.

Dog food, indeed.

“Come, now. Someone bid and rid me of this piece of shit,” the seller called out. “Not even a copper?” He bent down and tore the shackles off the slave, leaving bloody wounds at the wrist.

“Of course the copper won’t buy the chains.”

Red started in surprise when Bethral’s hand moved, and a single copper coin flew through the air to land at the seller’s feet.

RED’S mouth fell open in shock.

“Your dogs will have bones to gnaw on, warrior!” The seller picked up the coin with a flourish.

Bethral ignored him. She just stepped to the platform and carefully pulled the slave to a sitting position. Not so much as a groan to be heard. She eased him up onto her shoulder, paused to make sure she had her balance, and started walking in the direction of the inn.

Blinking, Red watched her go, shook her head, and then ran to catch up. “What were you thinking?” she hissed softly. Not that she needed to bother. They drew no real attention, even though Bethral had a naked, filthy man over her shoulder. In point of fact, the townspeople were averting their eyes and minding their own ways.

“I’ll not leave him in their hands.” Bethral’s voice was soft and somewhat breathless. For all that the slave was skin and bones, he was still a dead weight. And a stinking mess, truth be told.

Red shifted the packages in her hands as she walked alongside Bethral. “What in the name of all of the Twelve are you going to do with him?”

“I doubt he’ll last long.” Bethral kept walking steadily, but she was planting her feet carefully.

“Where are you going to take him?” Red pointed out.

“Where else? The inn. He’ll die free, at least.” Bethral sucked in a deep breath and kept walking.

Red rolled her eyes. She could just imagine how Three Toes would feel about a slave dying in one of his beds. But she kept her mouth shut. Partly because Bethral didn’t have the breath to talk. But also because the hairs on the back of Red’s neck were standing up, and there was a tingle at the base of her spine.

Something was wrong. Very wrong. She looked around, without turning her head, and saw nothing different. But suddenly the townspeople who had seemed no threat before were now setting her nerves on edge.

“You feel that?” Red asked. She made sure her lips barely moved.

Bethral gave a short nod. They were both alert and tense, sensing trouble even as they kept a steady pace.

They’d reached the cobblestone yard and the gate of the inn when a shout came from behind them.

Red dropped her burdens and spun on her heel to face the gate, sword and dagger in her hands.

The slave seller was running toward them, holding up a copper coin. “Warriors, please.” He stopped for breath, looking warily at Red. “No need for alarm. I made a mistake, warriors. That slave was not to be sold. Please forgive me. I’ll return the purchase price, of course, or replace that one with anoth—”

Bethral was slower because of her burden, but she’d turned to face the gate as well, the slave still balanced on her shoulder. “No,” she growled.

“A simple mistake,” the seller offered, holding out the coin again.

“He is mine, bought and paid for,” Bethral spat.

The man stepped back, taken aback by her response. Red stayed between him and Bethral, weapons at the ready. She caught movement at the door of the inn, but didn’t take her eyes off the man before her.

“My master will have him back, warrior.” The seller paused, licking his lips. “Let me keep the peace. Take back your coin.”

Three Toes emerged from the door of the inn, far enough that Red could note his presence.

“My master will insist.” The seller puffed himself up. “He will come, with those who will aid him. He will take the slave.”

“Your master can try.” Red took a step forward, and the man fled through the gate.

Three Toes moved close, sweating heavily. “Warriors, I can’t afford this trouble. The slave master will come with his bullies. Please, I—”

“We’re leaving.” Red still faced the gate. “Now.”

“Stin!” Three Toes bellowed. The stable boy popped out of the barn. “Saddle their horses, boy.

NOW.” The boy was gone that quick.

Bethral spoke. “Our gear is—”

“I’ll gather it myself.” Three Toes was already moving. “The faster you go—” He disappeared, bellowing orders.

Red sighed. “So much for a warm bed and a bit of company.”

“I’m not company enough?” Bethral asked.

Red snorted.

Three Toes appeared with their saddlebags and bedrolls. He was followed by one of the serving wenches, who started to gather up their purchases and stuff them in two bags. Another man ran up as well, with an old blanket and two water-skins. Judging from his apron, he had to be a cook.

“There are some salves in the sack, with bandages.” Three Toes helped stuff the items in the saddlebags. “The skins are filled with ale, for your journey.”

Stin ran out, leading Steel. He handed the reins to Bethral and ran back into the barn.

Bethral dropped the reins. “Stand,” she ordered Steel.

The horse stood straight and still.

“Go, girl. Get inside,” Three Toes ordered. The serving wench scurried off.

Three Toes and the cook helped take the slave from Bethral’s shoulder. Red glanced back to see that they were wrapping him in the old blanket, struggling to keep him upright as Bethral mounted.

“Pah,” the cook said with a grimace. “Stinks.”

“Poor bastard,” Three Toes muttered in agreement.

The slave showed no sign of awareness.

Once Bethral was seated, the two men lifted the bundled slave into her arms. They then strapped the bags on the horse, making sure the load was even. Three Toes hung a wineskin from her saddle.

Bethral settled the man securely in front of her. “Is there a back gate?”

“Aye,” Three Toes grunted as he tightened a strap. “Stin!”

The boy popped out, leading Beast, who was snorting his displeasure. “Done!”

“Open the back gate. Go!” Three Toes ordered. The boy darted off.

“Stand, Beast.” Red commanded.

Three Toes spoke quickly, as he and the other man loaded Beast. “Behind the stables, beyond the privies, there’s a gate. It will take you out a path toward the river.”

Bethral gathered her reins, and gave him a nod.

“They’re coming,” Red warned.

Three Toes and his helper ran for the inn door and slammed it shut, leaving them alone in the yard. They disappeared just as a group of slavers ran through the gate.

“That’s them!” The seller was pointing them out to a large, sweating, fat man and four armed men. “They’ve got him.”

“Warriors,” the fat man gasped, making a show of mopping his brow. But Red noted his eyes narrowing. “A simple mistake,” he continued, gesturing for his men to move up on them.

“Go,” Red snapped over her shoulder at Bethral. She heard the clatter of hooves on cobblestones behind her, as she turned to meet her foe.

BETHRAL pulled Steel to a halt in a clearing, and listened for sound of pursuit. But all she could hear was Steel’s labored breathing and the pounding of her own heart.

She’d followed a deer path deep within the woods, leaving the inn and the river behind, never once risking the road. There was pine here, enough to shelter them for a moment. Dusk was coming on. That would help even more to hide them.

Steel dropped his head, and heaved a sigh as he shifted beneath her.

“Sorry, boy,” she whispered as she patted Steel’s neck. It wouldn’t do to dismount. She wasn’t sure she could wrestle her burden back into the saddle, and she couldn’t do it quickly. Better to stay mounted until she knew for sure that they were safe.

The blanket had fallen over the slave’s face as they’d ridden. A tug revealed his face. It was a long moment before she was even certain that he still breathed. There was no spare flesh on those bones, the cheekbones in stark relief, lips dry and cracked. She winced in sympathy.

“What’s within you, that they pursue you so?” she whispered.

There was no response.

Bethral shook her head, not sure what impulse had come over her, to buy an abused slave. Anger

—that was certain. Disgust that anyone could treat another being so, be they man or beast. Red would have her head for this.

Provided Red was still in one piece herself.

The normal sounds of the woods were returning, with the skitter of small animals and the soft cries of birds. Bethral relaxed slightly, since there didn’t seem to be an immediate threat.

With one hand she held the man close, and with the other she reached for the bag that Three Toes had tied to her saddle. There were some bandages, and she pulled one clear with her free hand. It took some effort, but she managed to get the cloth wet from the wineskin.

She pressed the wet cloth to his lips, trying to at least soften the skin. It took a moment, but eventually the lips moved against the cloth, and she heard him suck at it.

“That’s it,” she crooned softly. “Let’s get some ale in you.”

She kept an eye and ear to her surroundings as she wet the cloth, and let the man pull as much moisture as he could. She’d look down once in a while, then return to her vigilance.

At last, she pulled the cloth free of his mouth and the man sighed. She looked down, and found that his eyes were open, the greenest eyes she’d ever seen, green with flecks of gold.

“Can you hear me?” she asked softly. “Who are you?”

The eyes took her in, roaming over her face. But there was little awareness to them that she could tell, and only his eyes moved.

“Sleep,” she whispered. “You’re safe, here in my arms.”

His eyes fluttered closed, and she thought the corner of his mouth turned up a bit, as if trying to smile.

Steel’s ears perked up. Someone was coming.

Bethral jerked her head up, dropped the cloth, and pulled a dagger.

A barn owl call echoed through the trees.

Bethral rolled her eyes, and hooted in response. As the brush rustled, she shook her head. “It’s too early for owls to be about,” she said softly.

Red emerged into the clearing, riding Beast. “It was supposed to be a duck.”

“You never get that right. Stick to scarlets. You can chirp like one well enough.” Bethral relaxed, seeing no wounds on her sword-sister.

“I haven’t seen a scarlet since we entered that damn bog.” Red responded sourly, ducking branches as she moved Beast closer.

“Did you kill any of them?” Bethral asked.

“No,” Red said. “I didn’t want to give them a reason to pursue us. I just sliced a few, then got to Beast. We charged through them to the gate and the main road. Beast and I ran for a while, but then we circled back and picked up your trail.” Red frowned, dismounted, and picked up the wet cloth. “But there’s a mounted group on the main road, searching for us. They want him back.”

She nodded toward the slave. “How’s he doing?”

Bethral looked down. “He breathes. Not much more.” She covered the slave’s face and tucked the blanket loosely around him. “Will they follow?”