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Two of the tagalong men from the plaza held up
their hands, volunteering.

“Good. We have more men on the way, so they’ll
be able to help in that regard.”

Now that we had a solid plan, we crept closer
to the building, edging slowly toward the doors.

And then we waited.

It couldn’t have been long — probably not more
than a few minutes — but it felt like hours. My shoulders were
tense, every muscle taut and ready. I was nervous, but focused. I
had only one objective: find Ayo. Once I knew he was safe, I could
think about the others. Once he was out of danger, I’d do whatever
needed to be done.

And if he wasn’t safe?

I felt rage simmering beneath the surface of
my calm. Even the Goddess wouldn’t be able to help Tino if he’d
hurt Ayo.

Whatever the clan kids planned, I wished
they’d hurry up. We weren’t exactly being subtle, standing outside
their headquarters, and while those of us who planned to go inside
were being quiet, the folks who had come along in hopes of seeing a
fight weren’t doing us any favors. They were getting louder by the
minute. It was a good thing the building didn’t have any
windows.

Finally, it began. We didn’t hear anything at
first but a faint crackling sound, then a sudden
whoosh
.
Several of the spectators across the street gasped. Several more
turned and ran. One woman screamed.

So much for being quiet.

At the exact same instant, we heard the sound
of several kids pounding on the back door of the stable, all
yelling a single word.

“Fire!”

In a city that had recently burned almost to
the ground, few things brought people running faster than that. I
glanced at Frey, and saw my own disbelief mirrored in his eyes.
Hopefully whatever the kids had done could be easily contained.
We’d have a hard time justifying the freedom of a handful of slaves
if it meant burning down what remained of Davlova.

“It’s working,” Uri whispered.
“Listen.”

We could hear Tino’s men yelling and running
toward the back of the stable.

“Now!” Frey yelled.

Uri and Moses rammed their shoulders into the
doors.

Nothing happened.

They hit it again, this time with a few more
people behind them.

The doors buckled inward, but didn’t
open.

A third time, now with most of us running at
the doors, slamming into them together.

This time, they opened, and we burst into the
open space at the front of the stable.

We could see straight down the center aisle of
the barn to the chaos out back. The clan kids had made a pile of
hay and dried manure in the center of the courtyard and lit it. The
blaze was loud and stank to the heavens. Men raced back and forth
with pails of water while being pelted with clods of manure thrown
by giggling clan kids.

Only three of Tino’s crew stood waiting for
us. Moses felled the first with a single punch. The second went
down under a crush of men from the plaza. The third turned and ran
for his colleagues, who were all fighting the fire. The rest of our
make-shift army surged down the center aisle with Uri and Moses
leading the way.

Flea and I began unlatching gates. Most of the
slaves from the first couple of stalls rushed to open more. Some of
the freed slaves ran forward to fight. A few fled out the front
door, but not many.

“I found that bloke’s wife!” the woman from
the street yelled, grabbing my sleeve. “She’s safe!”

“Good!” But I was frantically searching for
Ayo.

Some of Tino’s men had figured out what was
happening and rushed back inside, calling for their comrades. The
fire was nearly out, having burned through the only available fuel.
The real fight was about to begin.

Where is he?

And finally, I spotted Benny, waving his hands
as he ran toward me. Hugo followed, sporting a black eye and
carrying Karina, whose ivory hair combs and pearl earrings were
long since gone. Behind them came Agnes, and behind her—

“Misha!” Ayo cried, flying into my arms. “I
knew you’d find me.”

“Thank the Goddess you’re safe.” I embraced
him for only a moment before holding him at arm’s length, looking
him up and down. His shirt had been torn open, but other than that,
he seemed unharmed. “Did they touch you? Did they do
anything
to you?”

“No, but they saw this.” He touched the lines
of blue tattoos on his chest.

“Nothing else?”

He shook his head. “They didn’t hurt
me.”

The word “hurt” was heavy with meaning, and I
pulled him into my arms one more time, thanking the Goddess that
they hadn’t discovered the secrets of his programming. I wanted to
hold him forever, but we were running out of time. Now that
everybody was free and the fire was out, the building became eerily
quiet. At the end of the row of stables, two groups of men stood
glowering at each other, rubbing their knuckles and sizing each
other up.

“Stay with Benny and Hugo,” I said to Ayo,
pushing him gently toward the front of the barn and away from the
simmering hostilities. Whatever was about to happen, I knew I
needed to be with Frey and Uri. “I have to go.”

“You fools have no idea what you’ve done,”
Tino yelled, as I made my way through the crowd. “We were doing
Davlova a favor, getting rid of the riffraff.” His men nodded,
mumbling in support, and Tino held out his arms, indicating the men
behind him. “We all know there’s not enough food or work to go
around. All we’re doing is getting rid of the
competition.”

“Aye,” Uri said, “and making a bit of gold in
the process.”

“So what if we are?” Tino asked, as I finally
breached the front line to stand next to Frey.

“Yeah, so what if we are?” one of his men
echoed. “We got families to feed!”

“So do we!” Moses shouted, stepping forward.
“You think it’s any different for the rest of us? It’s tough times
all over. That don’t mean you get to treat people like
property.”

“They’re slaves. That means they
are
property!”

“Maybe they were once, but they don’t belong
to you!”

“You pig-headed fool! Don’t you
see—”

“Enough!” I said, stepping between the lines
of men. “This has gone far enough.” I faced Tino. I still had my
blade tucked behind my back, but I held my empty hand up in a
gesture of peace, begging for the silent attention of the crowd.
“It’s your business how you run your crew, but the slaves are
off-limits.”

“Says who?”

“Says me.” I felt foolish saying it, but I
hoped it didn’t show. I gestured to the crowd behind me. “And the
rest of Davlova.”

The group behind me murmured their agreement.
I looked around, making eye contact with as many of Tino’s men as I
could. “Do none of you remember why we started the war? For years,
the hill made the rules. They rounded up lower city residents in
raids and sold us overseas as if we were criminals. They sat on the
hill in their big houses, waited on by slaves, getting fat on beef,
wearing silk gowns and velvet jackets while we starved in the
trenches, but not now.” I continued meeting their eyes, forcing
them to face me.

Tino still looked smug, but he was a fool. He
thought his men were loyal, but I’d seen their doubts too many
times in the plaza. I knew it wouldn’t take much to convince them,
so I addressed my comments to them. The fact that they were
listening at all was all the encouragement I needed.

“Think about it. This city is
ours
. We
blew up the gate. We stormed through Upper Davlova. We killed the
mayors and the old Council. We did away with a corrupt regime.” I
pointed to the other slaves, still huddled behind us. “And in doing
that, we set these people free. That was part of our goal. And now
you think you can round them up like cattle just to line your own
pockets? What will you do next? Go to the tattoo maker in the third
quadrant and ask for some blue marks on your cheek?”

Tino’s men grumbled. Some ducked their heads.
Some seemed angry at my accusation, but they didn’t try to
contradict me. They didn’t know what to believe, and that was to my
benefit.

“You’re one to talk,” Tino sneered at me. “You
act all high and mighty, but you’re the one with a Dollhouse slave
warming your bed.”

“He may be from the Dollhouse, but he’s not a
slave. Not anymore. None of them are. There are no more slaves in
Davlova. Those days are over.”

The men behind me muttered again in
agreement.

“And who says you get to speak for the entire
city?” Tino challenged.

A fair question, when it came right down to
it. I hoped my doubts weren’t written on my face.

“I’m one of you,” I said, still speaking to
his men rather than to him. “I’m not from Upper Davlova. I was
locked out of it before the gate came down, just like you. I’ve
lived my whole life in the trenches, stealing to make ends meet,
doing my best not to be grabbed by the city guard. We put an end to
it. We brought down the beast, and for what? Is
this
what we
fought a war for? Is this why we overthrew the Council, so we could
commit the exact same sins, but for our own profit?”

“They were already slaves—” Tino started to
say, but I didn’t let him finish.

“Yes, but what were they before
that?”

The question hung in the air for several
seconds, and then one of the freed slaves cleared his
throat.

“I was a cobbler’s apprentice, back in Layola.
But the cobbler’s shop burned down and I had no job and no money
and my wife was pregnant and we had a babe to feed, so I stole a
bit of bread. I’d never stolen anything before, and I got caught.
Next thing I know, I’m on the auction block, being bid on by some
bloke with blue marks on his cheek.”

It was so perfect, I could have kissed him.
The allusions to hunger and family, and ending with the tattooed
nobles. It was something anybody from the lower city could relate
to, and I was counting on that to save us. “How many of you lost
friends or family in one of Benedict’s raids?” I asked Tino’s men.
“How many of you lost a brother or sister or son or clanmate?” Not
all of them nodded, but a few did. More importantly, I no longer
had to force them to meet my eyes. They were truly listening now,
some of them even nodding as I spoke. “Our family and friends were
stolen off the street and sold overseas. Only the Goddess knows how
many still live or where they ended up, but wherever they are,
wouldn’t you like to believe they might someday be
free?”

Two of Tino’s men nodded. One took a slow step
toward the men at my back — not threatening, but trying to change
sides. None of the rest of his crew would face him. Even Tino was
smart enough to see the tide turning.

“Fine,” he said. “Take them then, if they mean
that much to you. But this isn’t over. We’ll be back in the plaza
tomorrow and the next day and the day after that. We’ll be watching
for them, checking for tattoos, and we won’t be afraid to take
anybody we find who’s marked.” He spit pointedly at my feet.
“Especially the
special
ones like your precious whore. Maybe
I’ll even take a turn with him myself.”

I grabbed him before I could think, slamming
him against the wall and putting my knife to his throat. I wanted
to kill him. My fingers itched to sink that blade into his neck.
Two things stopped me. One: it would start a war, right when I’d
been about to reach an easy peace. Two: over the shoulders of
Tino’s men, in the courtyard that still boasted the smoldering
remnants of a pile of hay and horse shit, I spotted Lorenzo. He was
younger than me, and smaller too — not much of a threat on his own
— but he hadn’t come alone. Behind him stood three huge, scarred,
beefy men who had clearly made their living in Davlova’s fighting
pits. Each of them was armed with either a hammer or a
club.

“Seems like we’re late to the party!” Lorenzo
cried, grinning ear to ear.

Tino’s men spun, realizing too late that
they’d let themselves be flanked. Only a couple looked ready to
fight. Most of them were scared. Several tried to move quickly to
my side of the stand-off, as if they’d never been part of Tino’s
crew at all.

“W-we was only f-following orders,” one of
them stammered.

“Shut up!” Jemal snapped. Jemal was one of the
few men left who wasn’t scared, but he wasn’t hostile either. Not
anymore. He was smart, and he knew when he was beat.

He turned to face me. “You’ve made your
point,” he said. “How ’bout if we call it a draw? There’s no reason
anybody here has to die.”

“And what about tomorrow?” I asked,
intentionally repeating Tino’s words, letting the tip of my knife
scratch at the flesh of his throat. “And the next day and the day
after that? Because if we walk away now, what’s to say you won’t
try this same stunt next week?”

“We’re only trying to make ends meet,” one of
the other men said. “Tino said—”

“I don’t give a fuck what Tino said. Do you
even know how the slave trade in Deliphine works? Do you have any
idea what happens when you show up with a bunch of slaves and no
paperwork to prove they belong to you?”