At least they don’t plan to kill me for the death of the captain.Vunoshe approaches me, two men coming forward to drag the poor girl I fought out of the circle of sand, the slavemasterrebeaming again.
“You’ve done me a great service today,” he says.“Two, in fact.Not only did you just command the highest price of anygladatteever sold, you took care of my other problem.”Two more men who look like guards are dealing with Lhanin’s body.I don’t bother to spare the captain a glance.“I was happy to return the favor.”So, he did save me.But only for the payout, not for any debt owed me, regardless of what he claims.“Fare you well, my dear.I know you’re destined for greatness.”
I lean toward him before he can retreat, smiling, and kiss his cheek.He’s surprised by the gesture, and when I pull back again, he’s staring with those wide, dark eyes again, fingers touching the place my lips landed.
“You might regret your choice,” I say.“I’ll see you again, Vunoshe.”
And smile at his terror.I make no move as he staggers away, hurrying off, looking back over his shoulder at me before he disappears into the crowd.I meant what I said, and I will see him again.
I’ll be the last thing he sees.
For now, I have other matters to attend.Like the giant woman who’s crossed the sand to me and observes me with a small frown.
“Either I’ve made the purchase of my career,” she says, “or the Rae is going to send me back to the sands for this.Agladattewho kills an owner, whether under order or not…” She sighs and tosses her hands.“I take it you had good cause?”
I nod.“I didn’t want to be a whore.”
She smiles.“You still are, though,” she says.“Of another kind.”Her dark eyes are my mother’s.“Your name?”
“Remi,” I say, surprised she asked.
“Come, Remi,” Romouth says, clearly having made some choice about me that satisfies her.“Time to begin your new life.”
It’s hard not to be hopeful despite the often false allure of that feeling, as I follow her out of the ring.
***
Chapter Ten
I’m loaded onto a wagon with an open cage as its walls, left in the shade of a building, and out of the constant pressure of the sun’s heat.Two burly guardsmen stand nearby, talking low and privately to one another, Romouth leaving again once I’m secured inside my new container.It’s far from rough, the curving iron latticed and artfully shaped by some smith into winding vines, though when I test the strength of it, it’s clearly well-crafted and sturdy enough to withstand any attempt to bend or break it.
I’ve been freed of my shackles, though, so that’s a positive I can hang onto, as is the shade I’m in, the large jug of water I’m left with, a basket with bread and some kind of sweet, sticky fruit inside that tastes vaguely of salt at the same time.I eat and drink enough to take the edge from my hunger and thirst, but don’t overdo it, tempted to pace my decorative cage but forcing myself to sit at the back of it with my shoulders to the slats instead, meditating with my eyes open.
This is far from safe or some victory.I’m merely one more step closer to the final result.Any softening or weakening of my resolve and focus could very well end badly, and I simply can’t afford to relent.
I perk when I see my two warrior companions crossing the square toward me, note it when they are loaded into their own wagon, its paint and structure similar, but in the shape of flames climbing the metal framework.
“Fight well, Remi!”Onu waves to me as he and Carrigan are locked into their cage.“We will see you in the Dominae of the Sun God!”
Their new owner has had enough for the day, gesturing for his driver to mount the front of the wagon while the small, round man in the dark yellow robes ducks into the clever hatch behind the driver’s seat and closes the door behind him.At least the two warriors remain together.That warms my heart, honestly, which means my humanity hasn’t left me yet.
Atlas will love the story, no doubt, when I see him again and stop fucking him long enough to tell it to him.
It’s almost dusk by the time Romouth returns with her own driver, but without another fighter to add to the cage.She seems annoyed, almost frustrated, though when she pauses to look up at me, her tone is soft.
“Make sure you eat and drink.Good,” she nods as she notes I already have.“Take your fill.Our journey is overnight, but if you require comforts, you will have them.Find blankets in the box.”I hadn’t noticed the clever lid made of the bench I could have chosen to sit on, “and sleep.”She leaves me then, ducking into her own compartment under the driver’s seat as the woman in leather mounts and clucks to the two large creatures in traces at the lead.
They look like cows to me, though far taller, their horns shorn to the bone and capped in copper, their golden coats glossy in the humidity.They almost glow as the setting sun’s red and orange light washes over them, the pair groaning a little as they settle into a slow but ground-eating pace that rocks the cage in a gentle rhythm much like the waves on board the ship.
I sleep, to my surprise, rising to use the covered pot strapped to the far end of the cage for my personal needs, returning to the back and more rest after a drink and another of the sweet and salty fruit.If mymistressefears attack, there’s no sign of it, and when I wake again, dawn crawls across the horizon on my right, lighting the dull yellow grasslands we cross.I stare in surprise at the large herd of animals, like our beasts of burden, that graze near a bright green bank, the curve in the road leading us back toward the river, one side of the wide path that soft gold of grasses thriving on little while the lush vegetation on the other side greedily feeds from the sparkling water.
It's beautiful, make no mistake, the air’s humidity lessened somewhat, though it’s going to be hot today, I can already tell.But a breeze has come up and it sends ripples through the grasses on both sides of the road, the sound of trilling birds waking in the early morning a counterpoint to the steady thud of the beast’s feet and the soft creaking of the wagon.
For a brief moment, I allow myself the grief of not riding this road on Gorgon’s back, my warhorse’s giant presence sorely missed.Then again, he’d hate the heat, my horse, would have shed his weight in sweat by now.Better that he’s safe in Neem.
If anyone is safe in Neem.I’ve forced off thoughts of Atlas and Zenthris, of what I left behind, who I left, and the circumstances they are in.Of the encroaching armada of Overkingdom ships heading for the Landlow Isles and the two men I love.They had a plan, to circumvent the traitor who gave the Overking’s captains the means to navigate the waters of the Isles.Did they move the markers in time?Prevent landfall?Destroy the fleet?I have no way of knowing, and lingering over those questions hurts far more than anything I’ve endured.
Yes, even the loss of my mother.Her death is a distant memory, now, as callous as that is to accept.But she is gone, and as far as I know, the rest of those I care about are not.Kinspark or not, I have to believe I’d know if Atlas and Zen are dead.
