Part 4 (1/2)

Chapter 5.

It didn't take long to reach the road beyond the woods, but the walk along the road to the city was dusty, hot, and boring. It would have been worse if the sun had been high in the sky, but once we left the shade of the trees we had the clouds to keep us from squinting and broiling.

Garam strode along at a pace that was just a little too fast to be comfortable, his pull on the leather adding to the chafing of the collar around my neck.

It took a small effort to keep up with Garam, but I had the distinct impression he wasn't trying to force me into asking him to slow down. If you've never been dragged along a road with your arms cuffed close behind you, you'll probably have trouble understanding exactly what it takes to keep up.

I made sure not to look at the fields that opened up to either side of the road beyond the forest, and by the time we reached the city I was close to believing those fields weren't there at all. I paid more attention to the people on the road, those heading toward the city and those walking or riding away from it.

Even at this time of day the new arrivals were fairly large in number, and Garam's dusty gray tunic, darker gray trousers, and black boots didn't bring a second look. His sword merited a glance or two, but even that was hardly unusual. Mercenaries often came to the city looking for hire, and if they were any good they usually found it.

The guardsmen at the gate made no effort to stop anyone from entering, and were really only there to make sure the wrong someones didn't leave. Slaves were kept chained and free men with silver or gold came and went as they liked, but those who were bondsmen - not quite slaves but not quite free either - were another story.

Bondsmen weren't supposed to leave the city until their bonds were worked off, and if one of them tried it he usually didn't get very far. It was the practice of the citizens to shave the head of any bondsman - or bondswoman - indentured to them, and anyone leaving the city without a retinue had to show a full head of hair. If they couldn't they'd d.a.m.ned well better be able to show an official pa.s.s instead.

Garam pa.s.sed through the gate and continued on a short way into the hurrying crowds, his head turning this way and that as he took in the first sights of the city, and then he stopped and used the braided leather to pull me up beside him.

”I wouldn't put it past some of this sc.u.m to cut my leather, steal you away, and then sell you off, slave,” he said, talking to me but not looking at me. ”If I thought you'd bring a decent price I'd sell you myself, but you won't so I won't bother. At least you save me the price of a streets.l.u.t - as long as I do you in the dark. Walk ahead of me, and none of that nonsense you tried on the road this morning.”

He gave me a little push to set me in front of him, and just that easily the game was started. I let the push send me in the proper direction while making it seem as if I just happened to be going that way, and as we walked I flexed the muscles of my arms against the position the cuffs held them in. Garam probably expected me to be stiff and in pain by the time he freed me, but I'd been doing the exercises at intervals since the cuffs had first been closed on me to make certain there would be no trouble at all. It was a trick all Kenossi knew, and was so subtle a thing that even Garam, who walked directly behind me, never noticed it was being done.

When we reached our first destination I set my neck against the collar and tried to pull the leather lead out of Garam's hand. He let the leather slide a short way, then tightened his grip to yank we back to where I belonged, a faint look of annoyance touching his features. He aimed a backhanded slap at me which came very close to connecting, but I was able to roll with the blow and only seemed to get hit. After that I was shoved back to my place in the lead, and we went on.

Deeper into the city the crowds weren't as thick as they'd been near the gate, but the streets were a far cry from being thinly populated. Twice more we went through our routine of me trying to escape, and each time we reached a place where men of the army had been a.s.signed I tried to figure out why they'd been a.s.signed there.

The closest we would come to the central marketing section would be two twisty streets away, and there weren't even any guardsmen's kiosks in the designated locations. I hadn't been told why Fearin wanted men there, only that he did, and asking straight out had gotten me no more than a secret smile and a finger to the High Master's lips. His reasons weren't to be discussed, but presumably the men who followed casually with the crowds, some of whom I recognized, would know what to do when the time came.

As we approached our fourth stop, I decided it was time to use the variation of attempted attack. The area was wider than the others had been, a place of old buildings of wood that had sagged back far enough to allow small street stalls to be set up in front of them.

Hawkers sat or stood beneath tattered awnings of faded cloth, shouting out their wares or haggling with those who were trying to buy. What they offered was far below the quality of produce and goods to be found in the central market square, but because of that the offerings were also cheaper. The people all around sweated in the cloudy, oppressive heat, but were too involved with their selling and shopping and looking to take notice.

I waited until more than half the stalls were behind us before making my move, only fleetingly wondering what would happen if I actually did manage to escape. Before being enslaved I'd lived for a short time in this part of the city, which was the reason why I knew it to begin with.

Even with my arms locked behind me I could be gone from sight in a dozen heartbeats of time, and then I could - Spend the rest of my time waiting for Diin-tha to drop a building or a tree on my head. I shook a strand of damp hair out of my eyes in annoyance, annoyed that braiding hadn't kept the hair out of my way, annoyed with the people all around who didn't spend an instant's worth of concern on a slave, annoyed with myself for almost forgetting I was only pretending to be a slave. What I was doing right now was playing a game, but the taste and memory of slavery doesn't fade quite as quickly as some people think. It takes being a slave to really know what slavery is about, but the experience usually touches all the wrong lives.

Which led me to take a short breath and then turn on one of those who would really profit from the experience of being a slave. Garam was still pretending to be absorbed in sightseeing, but he was definitely watching me out of the corners of his eyes. That meant I didn't have to worry about surprising him, so instead of hesitating I went right for it.

I used my right foot to kick down hard on the braided leather, pulling it out of his hand, then s.h.i.+fted to follow through with a left-footed kick to his middle. Originally they'd wanted me torun after kicking the leather loose, but that would have put too much risk of success in the escape attempt. I'm faster than most at kicking and running, and for a fighter Garam was slower than he should have been.

Rather than run, then, I kicked at Garam to give him a chance to stop me. If I'd really been trying to escape I would have kicked to cripple him, but our Guardian Diin-tha wouldn't have liked my doing that. I had to make the try look as clumsy as possible, an amateurish effort Garam would have no trouble coping with - and that's when things started to go wrong. The hard-packed dirt of the street had a hole gouged out of it, and my deliberate clumsiness threw my balance off just enough to let the hole get the better of me.

Garam used his right arm to block my kick the way he was supposed to, but that was the last thing that went the way it should have. With his face twisted in supposed anger he swung that same arm in an arc to his left, then brought it across to hit me on the backswing. I was supposed to roll with that blow and probably could have salvaged the roll if my arms hadn't been behind me, but my arms were behind me so I couldn't do any salvaging. Garam's hand smashed into my face as I frantically tried to keep from falling, and then I was flying back and to one side to land hard in the dirt.

For a short time the entire city swung in a slow circle around me as I lay there, memory of the surprise in Garam's eyes the last thing I could remember clearly. I wasn't even aware of having hit the ground, only of the pain that came after contact, and my entire left side felt smashed. As I shook my head to drive the dizziness away I didn't think anything really was smashed, but it sure as h.e.l.l felt like it.

My vision began to clear after the headshake so I looked up, just in time to see Garam start toward me. He seemed to be fighting to look furious rather than worried, and despite the pain that observation amused me. I'd been determined to kill him if he hurt me and he'd been determined to do it anyway, but here I lay cursing at my own clumsiness and there he strode worrying about the state of my health. The situation was the sort to make the G.o.ds roar out their laughter, which was why I had such a low opinion of the sense of humor of deities.

And then, of course, to the certain delight of the G.o.ds, things got worse. Garam was, at most, two strides from me when a shadow fell across my body and I had to look way up to see whose shadow it was. Most of the people in the crowds had either laughed or ignored the matter when Garam hit me, but the man standing very tall to my right was neither laughing nor ignoring. He stood looking across at Garam with a very ugly expression on his face, something the fighter noticed quickly enough to stop a pace and a half away.

”You seem to enjoy knocking girls around,” the stranger rumbled to Garam, his deep voice very cold. ”It probably makes it better for your sort that her arms are tied. If they weren't it might not have been safe enough for you to hit her.”

Garam's skin darkened as he fought to control his temper, and I had to grudge him the admission that he didn't look as nervous as most would be in his position. The stranger was really big, broad as well as tall, wearing supple leather leggings which disappeared into high, soft-soled boots, both of a dark reddish-brown. Rather than wearing a tunic the man stood bare-chested, and the array of weapons closed around his waist added to the belief that this was a barbarian of some kind from the hinterlands. His long blond hair was close to the color of Fearin's, but his blue eyes were much lighter and he wore nothing of a beard.

”That's not a girl I was knocking around,” Garam said after a moment, his head high, his gaze locked to the stranger's. ”That's a slave lying there in the dirt, my slave, and I can do anything I d.a.m.ned well please to her. If you're having trouble understanding that, I'll be glad to ask some of the city guardsmen to explain the law to you.”

The last thing we wanted was to get involved with the city guardsmen, but the stranger didn't know that. He may have been a barbarian, but the way he tensed just a little showed he knew the trouble he'd have if guardsmen were called. His left palm caressed the hilt of one of the two swords he wore, just as though he were considering starting a fight anyway, but abruptly hecame to a different decision.

”All right, then I'll buy her from you,” he stated, apparently seeing nothing of the shocked vexation ghosting for a tick across Garam's face. ”From the way you treat her she can't be worth much to you, so name your price.”

I felt the absurd urge to get to my feet and tell that stranger to mind his own business, but that wouldn't have helped anything at all. I glanced at Garam to see a very odd look on his face, and had the sudden conviction that he was laughing inside. If he named a price and the stranger was able to meet it, would Diin-tha be able to accuse Garam of deliberately selling me? The possibility really seemed to be tempting him, but then he must have remembered that I hadn't finished my job as guide and I had another job to do after that. He raised a hand to rub his face as he studied the stranger, and then he showed a small smile as he shrugged.

”Oh, but this slave is worth quite a lot to me,” the fighter a.s.sured the stranger, a smooth greasiness now in his voice that every seller in that market would have recognized. ”The only question is, how much is she worth to you?”

”You expect to walk away with every copper I have,” the stranger said very flatly, showing he wasn't as innocent as the average barbarian who visited the city. ”I'll tell you right now what I'm prepared to pay, and there won't be any bargaining. One silver piece.”

”That's not good enough,” Garam answered, his expression deliberately neutral, most likely in an effort to keep the stranger from drawing on him. ”If you change your mind and decide later that she's worth more after all, I won't be hard to find. Right now you can step back away from my slave.”

The stranger's head went up even higher as his jaw tightened, and for a tick I believed we had a fight on our hands. I was trying to figure out how I might mix in without giving the game away when the G.o.ds decided they'd had enough fun at our expense and it was time to let us get on with what we were supposed to be doing. The people on the street suddenly began to move out of the way of a section of guardsmen who were marching in rank, and with a quick glance in their direction the stranger turned fast and slid his way deeper into the swirling, surrounding crowd. Despite his size the man was quickly gone, and then Garam was bending over me.

”Mark my words, he'll be back with a higher offer,” the fighter chortled, mostly to cover the almost-gentle way he lifted me to my feet. ”That sort always has to meddle, and he won't be happy until it's his own throat you're jumping for. It's a shame his eyesight's so poor, but his loss will certainly be my gain.”

The few people who had gathered at the prospect of a fight chuckled their agreement with what Garam had said, then they drifted away with good-natured disappointment. With the lead-leather in his hand the fighter headed off at a stroll in the direction opposite to the one the stranger had taken, but his out-loud playacting wasn't yet over with.

”Yes, as soon as he meets my price you'll be his, girl,” he said with a snicker, moving slowly so that he might watch my face. ”They say barbarians are hard on the women they take, but the women seem to love it. Are you ready to love it?”

I showed him my teeth with a very low snarl, and that was enough to let him laugh in triumph.

He'd finally succeeded in forcing me to acknowledge one of his sallies, a reaction I'd given him on purpose in the hope that it would then be out of his system. Being back on my feet and walking was bringing out the aches I had from the fall, and all I wanted was to get on with that guiding job until it was finished.

Since Garam was leading me in the direction we had to go anyway I hadn't resisted, but suddenly he turned a corner to the right that took us into a dead end between an abandoned stall and the blank back end of a splintery wooden building. There was barely enough room for us to stand facing one another in the garbage that had acc.u.mulated back here, but the fighter raised his hand in a demand for silence, slid back to the corner to peer around it, then returned to stand opposite me.

”We can only stay here for a handful of ticks, so tell me quickly,” he whispered whileinspecting me narrowly. ”How badly were you hurt?”

”I was bruised worse than this during my first Trial as a Life Seeker,” I answered in a matching whisper, faintly surprised that he was bothering to ask. ”You don't have to worry, I can still do what I'm supposed to.”

”That bruise on your face may make it harder to stay unnoticed at the Guest Pavilion,” he grumbled, not as pleased with his handiwork as he should have been. ”I thought you weren't going to have any trouble keeping out of my way?”

”Our Guardian must like you better than he likes me,” I said with a shrug, not caring to make any more of an excuse than that. ”Don't you think we ought to get back to it?”

”After I take care of our supposed reason for being in here,” he said, still not in any way happy with me. ”And from now on we'll be doing things differently. When you reach the next location, don't try to escape or attack me. Let something catch your eye that you slow down to stare at, and I'll curse at you for almost tripping me, then shove at you to get you moving again. That will do for the signal, and should also make sure I don't have to turn down any more offers for you. I was able to do it once, but a second offer might prove too tempting to resist.”

He gave me a very bland look as he picked up the collar leather he'd dropped, then turned his back on me and moved a few steps to the right, deeper into the alley. I didn't know what he was doing until I heard the sound of water striking the wood of the old building, and with complete understanding of his prepared excuse for stepping into the alley came a reason for giving thanks that he'd thought of it to begin with.

The head that edged around the corner from the street belonged to a narrow-faced, scruffy specimen, but one who had let a hint of cruel power show briefly on his face. The man was without doubt a city spy, but his abrupt disappointment showed that he'd expected a scene very different from the one he was looking at. The smell in the alley said it was far from unusual for men to stop here to relieve themselves, and the infraction was so minor that it wasn't even worth the spy's time to report Garam for breaking the law. The head shook once in total dismissal before withdrawing, having no idea that I'd seen it checking up on us, and that was the end of that particular suspicion.