Letting his various ideas simmer, Nadir shifted his attention to the many and varied cracks and holes that were letting in dull sunlight. He peered through all of them, trying to gauge something, anything, about his surroundings.
All he came away with was that he was likely on a farm or ranch of some sort, somewhere not too far from Salla Province. The landscape didn't look sandy enough to be far enough north to butt up against the Great Desert, so more than likely he was somewhere in Kenira Province, possibly Harn, but that seemed a stretch.
That was still a long, long way from home when he had no supplies, not even the right clothes for hard travel underthe blazing sun or the chilly nights when the most dangerous predators came out.
Not that such impediments would stop him. Nothing would stop him getting back to Shafiq. Nothing would keep his parents and all their cohorts from facing justice.
Still, it was strange that he had just been locked in a crumbling shed in the middle of nowhere, without even a guard, it seemed, to make certain he stayed put. Maybe they thought he was a soft noble who'd be too scared to do anything but cower in a corner.
Well fools them. He'd done enough cowering.
He triple-checked the cracks in and around the door one last time, to ensure there were in fact no immediate guards. It was all too possible they were simply out of view of his limited sight, but he couldn't hear them either.
As assured on that point as he could be, he turned his attention back to the shed. He could climb up and tear through the roof, or he could tackle the weak masonry and try to make a hole in one of the walls. There were pros and cons to each, but in the end, he decided to try the roof. The thatching was much easier to get through, and a shed wouldn't be so high off the ground he was at great risk jumping from it, though he'd still have to be careful.
Right. Decision made. Time to act. Nadir took a deep breath, then worked first on his hair, undoing the ruined bun it had been in before braiding and winding it. Next, he removed his slippers, as the soft silk would be useless for climbing walls. He tucked them into his sash, then explored the different corners until he found one that proved adequate for climbing. It took him a couple of tries, and some painful slips and scrapes, but eventually he reached one of the crossbeams. From there, it was easy enough, if awkward, to tear the thatching out bit by bit. Hedropped the shredded remains to the ground, as stealth hardly mattered and he had nowhere else to put them anyway.
He was sweaty, filthy, and sore by the time he made a gap big enough to push through, and the roof wouldn't be holding his weight for long now he'd torn a hole in it, but it only had to work for a couple of minutes.
Taking another steadying breath, Nadir then grasped the beam nearest the hole he'd made and heaved himself up. There'd been so many days when he'd resented having to add his exercises, his knife-fighting practice, on top of his studies and sister-watching duties, but he was grateful now, even if he hated the parents who'd forced the matter.
Outside the stifling shed was better in some ways, worse in others. It was one step closer to regaining his freedom, though, and that was all that really mattered.
He hastened to the edge of the roof and swung down over it, dangling as far as he could before letting go. He landed with a bone-jarring thud that knocked him on his ass, but thankfully nothing seemed injured, save his dignity. Picking himself up, he put his shoes back on and pulled up the headwrap he still thankfully had. His kidnappers had taken his knives and money, but that was all.
Nadir looked around, but save for a small curl of smoke coming from the main house some distance off, the farm might have been abandoned. Maybe it was, and that was why they'd stashed him here, and whoever was in the house had taken watching Nadir for a joke of a job.
Not wasting any more time, Nadir got his bearings from the sun and headed off. After several minutes, he came to a road, and a faded sign that indicated there was something in roughly the direction he needed to go. He didn't have money or anything else to barter with, but he'd face that problem once he reached the town.
The sun was blistering, but thankfully had crested an hour or so ago and was steadily sinking toward the horizon. A few more hours and his problem would no longer be the heat, but the cold.
He'd been traveling an hour or so when he heard horses drawing closer and moving fast. Damn it. Looking around frantically, he raced toward an outcropping of boulders and scrambled behind them. Hopefully he hadn't left footprints or something.
Hunching down, tensed to bolt if necessary, Nadir waited—and nearly cried in relief when the horses didn't even slow, just blew right past his hiding spot, and continued on down the road.
Nadir collapsed on the ground, trembling and barely containing a laugh-sob of relief.
Too close. He should avoid the road as much as possible, but he also didn't know the area well enough to take that risk. He would just have to be careful and pray the gods continued to favor him.
Standing slowly, still shaky from the close call, he stepped slowly around the rocks—and froze as he saw an errant rider who'd stopped by the side of the road to take a piss. Unfortunately, the man saw him at the same time.
Nadir bolted, but he was no match for a well-trained mercenary. The man grabbed him by the braid that had come loose, yanking him back with a wrenching pull on his neck, sending him crashing to the ground.
"Thought you'd escaped, huh, little brat? You won't be so lucky a second time." He hauled Nadir to his feet and then backhanded him, sending him right back to the ground. Nadir spat out blood and stared blearily up at him. The man was huge, more muscle than anything else, with an elaborate tattoo of a cobra on his right cheek, going down his neck to wrap around the base of his throat, like an actual snake coiled there. "I'll makesure the defiance is knocked right out of you." He grabbed Nadir by the hair again, close to the scalp, his grip painfully tight, and dragged him along like some sort of sack.
Humiliation and fear rushed through Nadir—and then sparked into anger. He wastired.All his life he'd been a dutiful, obedient son. Abused. Neglected. Overlooked. Stolen from a life he would never know. Then he'd been a good citizen, siding with king and law against those parents. The only thing he'd ever truly wanted, he couldn't have until this was all over, and these men were trying to ruin it for him. He'd donenothingwrong, and yet continued to suffer. To be punished for the crimes of others.
He wasdone.
Nadir twisted and writhed until he was being dragged along on his knees rather than his back, and managed to grip the back of the bastard's belt. If the mercenary noticed, which he must have, he clearly didn't care, far more interested in getting Nadir to the horse.
There was a knife on the belt, loose in its scabbard like the mercenary had used it recently, or been too lazy to secure it properly. Nadir yanked it free, braced his free hand on the man's wrist, and sliced through his own hair.
The sudden loss of his weight sent the mercenary stumbling forward, and Nadir used the moment of surprise to regain his own feet and surge forward, slamming the dagger into the bastard's side, then yanking it out and thrusting it into his neck as he dropped to his knees from the shock of the pain.
Leaving him there, shaking badly, Nadir ran for the horse and clumsily mounted.
The mercenary lay dead in the sand, his blood soaking into it all around him. Bile burned in Nadir's throat. Tears stung at his eyes.
