Marshal Law

by Adam D Jones

  “Of course,” said Dawn. “My funds are sufficient.”

  She reached for her satchel, but the tailor touched her hand. “No, no, no! I’m so sorry, I didn’t recognize you! You don’t need to give me any money today! It’s my pleasure!”

  Dawn froze, partly at the unexpected touch, but mostly at his sudden change in demeanor. He stood up straighter and even gave a little bow. “I am at the service of the house of Idaris.”

  Dawn realized she had accidentally shown him her family ring. Oh. That.

  “So…you know where to send the charges?”

  “Naturally!”

  Dawn wished she could see her parents’ faces when they received the bill for a set of riding clothes. “I need it now. My fault. I should have shopped sooner, but now I’ve...gotten myself into a bind.”

  “Oh, my. But my mind is already brimming with ideas! Inlays and stitchings! I was thinking of ordering pearls for the buttons.”

  “Now.” Dawn could still hear the bells ringing from the facility. Any moment, someone could run into this shop looking for her. “The best you can do is fine. I realize I’ve put you in a difficult position.”

  “Well, if it has to be right away.” The tailor gave her a pleading look.

  “It does.”

  Deflated, he left for the backroom. “I’ll see what I have.”

  Alone in the quiet shop, Dawn heard footsteps from outside. She moved away from the windows and listened. The sound of approaching footfalls made her tense, but the unseen traveler moved past the shop and their steps faded away. Just a shopper. The searchers haven’t gotten this far. Not yet.

  “I found a few things, but they’ll never do.” The tailor emerged from the backroom with his arms so full of clothes they hid his face. “Pants too long, shirts too short, and boots with no heel. Your family will run me out of town for dressing you this way.”

  “If anyone complains about my clothes, I’ll say I bought them from your competitor.”

  “Ha! You are an Idaris. Now, what color is your horse?”

  “What?” Dawn believed the Republic soldiers could knock on every door in Telarine before this man finished asking stupid questions.

  The tailor removed the monocle from his eye, regarding Dawn with some skepticism. “My lady, we cannot make your pants the same color as your horse, how would anyone—”

  “Black! My horse is black! And so is the saddle!”

  Buying things is hard.

  “Black!” He tossed aside four pairs of black pants.

  Dawn grabbed the pile from him with both hands. “I’m sure I can take it from here. One of these has to fit. Can I try them on back there?” She nodded toward the large, back room.

  “Certainly. For an Idaris, I suppose...but it’s not cleaned up back there! Just a workshop!”

  “I don’t care.”

  Dawn pushed through the swinging door and entered a room full of sewing and tanning equipment. It was dim and quiet, and unsightly tools hung on every wall. Dawn felt more comfortable right away.

  She was about to try on the first shirt when a gleam of metal and a black wooden handle caught her eye. “What’s that?”

  He peeked in. “What’s...what?”

  “On the wall. Is it sharp?”

  When he realized she wasn’t trying anything on, he stepped inside the workroom. “Oh, we sell a few tools for servants. The help would use one of those to clear brush and tall grass. A long blade. Sharp on one side. Just a blade.”

  “No,” said Dawn. “It’s a cutlass. And I’ll take it.”

  ◆◆◆

  She left her old clothes in the shop and exited dressed like a proper lady on her way to the stables. Under her arm, bundled in thick fabric, she carried a gleaming cutlass and a strap to wear it on her belt.

  “Over there!” someone shouted.

  Only a few steps away, two men in uniforms pointed at her. Her heart froze as they approached, but they stopped two steps away from her and rushed inside the tailor’s shop.

  Time to run.

  Dawn walked north, toward the Divide, the river that touched the top of the city and reached across the continent. She couldn’t see it, but behind the tall buildings she knew she would find the harbor and hopefully buy a ticket to somewhere far. Anywhere. Getting away from the Republic would be best. She knew Lodi towns dotted the frontier, and that the Corsairs and their stolen ships patrolled the desert at the edge of the Republic’s strength.

  Third Bend. She stopped in her tracks, remembering what one of the Patricians had said. Disaster on the Divide, near Third Bend.

  The Lodi prisoner had perked up a bit at the news, like it meant something to him. He would certainly head east, away from the capital and try to disappear in Lodi lands.

  Dawn made it to the river docks in time to see a longboat shoving away. Another pushed in to take its place, but Dawn could feel the Republic soldiers at her heels and didn’t want to join the already long line waiting for it. Besides, there were other ways out of Gamon. Even she knew that. Just outside the dock area Dawn found what she was looking for: a tall, wooden carriage attached to eight waiting horses.

  “Carriage driver.” She approached and waved to the man seated at the front. “Where do you go?”

  “Everywhere,” he said, obviously in a hurry. “We run a circuit.”

  “Anywhere near Third Bend, on the Divide?”

  “No, ma’am, but close. We’ll cross over to the north side of the Divide on a bridge just outside of town, then half a wheel later we’ll stop at a trading post. Someone there might take you the rest of the way. But we’re—”

  “I’d like a ticket.”

  “Listen, I realize you’re someone important, but I don’t sell tickets and I’ve got no room.”

  Important? Dawn looked down at her clothes, which, to her, looked impractical.

  “There’s enough room on top,” she insisted.

  “On top?” He looked up and behind him. Straps holding down luggage crisscrossed the flat roof of the caravan. “I can’t sell space up there to someone like you.”

  Dawn put a booted foot on the wagon wheel and used a dangling strap to pull herself up. Memories of childhood tree-climbing flooded her mind as she worked her way up and swung a leg over the top.

  “This is fine.” She reached into her satchel for one of the jingling coins. “Will this do?” She flipped a silver coin onto the bench next to the driver.

  “That’ll get you there and back,” he said, snatching the coin.

  “Then let’s go.” Dawn leaned over the front of the wagon, speaking low. “And throw in some silence.”

  “I can’t say I can help you there. Everyone in Gamon’s gonna talk, but here we go!”

  What’s that supposed to mean?

  He snapped the reins and Dawn retreated to the middle of the caravan roof. She tied her bundled weapon down with a loose leather strap and then grabbed a few of the stray ropes to hold on to. The wagon moved slow, letting the wooden wheels make their way gently over the cobblestones. Dawn sat down amidst the luggage, keeping hold of the straps. When she looked around at the city, she finally knew what the driver had meant.

  People stared. Dawn had seen those stares before, but not since she was a child. It was the face visitors gave when she played silly games in front of her parents’ dinner guests, or when she spoke to the maids even though it wasn’t allowed. It was the way people stared at something that was perfectly fine but just slightly in the wrong place, like a woman riding on top of a carriage rather than inside of it. Dawn couldn’t imagine why it should interest any of them.

  But the idea she was doing something that would bother her parents made Dawn smile. The bouncy ride smoothed out as the wagon rolled past the city cobblestones and onto level sand at the edge of Gamon.

  “Not a good place to ride,” came a nearby voice.

  Dawn looked down on her left and saw a man sticking his head out of the carriage window.

  “We might
have room in here,” he said. Something about the tone in his voice made her think his fellow passengers didn’t agree. “Might be tight, have to sit pretty close, but it’s better than up there.”

  Speak for yourself. Dawn couldn’t think of anything worse than sitting close to strangers.

  “Fine up here,” she called back, and he disappeared back inside the carriage.

  There was a whip crack and the horses picked up speed. Dawn felt wind in her hair, and this time she did not hide from the memories it brought up.

  “Rough patch up ahead!” called the driver.

  Dawn stood up a little, holding on to the ropes. A shallow ditch lay ahead of them.

  “Hang on!” he cried.

  Dawn crouched.

  The wheels fell into the ditch. The passengers below let out a groan as they were tossed around the cabin. The carriage dipped, and Dawn’s feet were lifted from the top of the roof as she sailed forward, holding tight to the straps. The luggage around her shifted around while Dawn was momentarily airborne. After a moment of whooshing wind, she landed in a crouch, her mouth open in surprise.

  “You alright up there? That was a nasty bump!”

  Realizing she had been holding her breath, Dawn exhaled and smiled. “Are there going to be any more?”

  15

  The driver stopped slowing down for the bumpy patches once he noticed Dawn was enjoying it. She gripped the ropes in anticipation of the moment she would be thrown in the air and feel the elation of flight. By the time night fell, her hands were tired and she was ready to lay down.

  The wagon stopped near midnight and the passengers slept, some on the ground outside. The driver promised to leave at First Light. Two men with rifles stood around the camp, making rounds and tending to a fire that kept animals away. Dawn curled up on the carriage roof, surrounded by luggage and sacks of clothes and food, and fell asleep quickly.

  A howling woke her only a few hours later. She sat up, pushed hair out of her face, and squinted along the horizon.

  “Only a wolf,” whispered one of the guards, walking past with his rifle over his shoulder. “Or maybe a growler. They’re talking to the moon. Won’t bother us so long as we keep the fire up.”

  He winked and continued his slow walk around the camp while Dawn settled back down. She kept her eyes open and on the horizon, looking for the animal. A wolf! It was something out of a story. Dawn felt her tiredness coming back as she kept looking, hoping for a glimpse of it.

  Something else in the distance caught her eye instead.

  The disruption under a sandship was rarely visible at night, almost impossible to see. But on the horizon, in the direction of Gamon, Dawn could see a slight shimmering. Though a long way off, the soldiers on the sandship would be able to see the campfire with their telescopes.

  Groggily, Dawn sat up and crawled toward the front carriage. The driver slept in his seat, laying on his back and snoring.

  “Wake up.” Dawn reached down and poked his shoulder. “Get up! The Republic’s coming.”

  “Mmmm!” He swatted at her hand and shuffled around on the wooden bench. “Not mornin’ yet.”

  “Up!” Dawn said it louder, and a few other travelers stirred and complained. “Now!”

  The driver opened both eyes and looked for the moon. “It’s not close enough to—”

  “Republic sandship. It could be here by midday.”

  “I don’t care. Not like I’m guilty of...” His eyes widened.

  “I’m sure they’ll believe you had nothing to do with transporting a—”

  He pushed his hands against his ears. “Don’t say it! I don’t want to know!” He sat up and tried to rub the sleep out of his eyes. “Rise ‘n’ shine!” he announced.

  The passengers sleeping on the sand began to squirm. “Already?” someone asked.

  The driver pointed to one of the guards. “Hook up the horses. And you,” he pointed to the other one. “Get everyone inside. And tell ‘em to hold on to something!”

  ◆◆◆

  The trading post came into view just after First Light.

  Dawn had been watching behind them all night. The sandship was sometimes visible, but it wasn’t in a hurry. She suspected they were stopping along the way to look for her and the Lodi boy inside every house and behind every rock.

  “Sam’s tradin’ post,” shouted the driver. “Half-hour stop.” He looked behind him, casting a hard glare at Dawn. “Not a bad place to get off, either.”

  When the long wagon rolled to a stop, Dawn hopped down with her cutlass bundled under her arm. She nodded to the driver, but he didn’t return her smile. He only looked relieved.

  The trading post was small enough that it couldn’t even count as a settlement. A tiny well stood in between a house and a market stall, and a woman with a book sat inside the stall. She didn’t even look up at the passengers emerging, sore and tired, from the carriage.

  “I need to go south, along the river,” said Dawn, when she got to the stall.

  The woman pointed. “It’s that way.”

  “I know which way south is. I need transportation. And information about someone who might have come through here.”

  “Do I look like I pay attention?”

  “You would have noticed this guy.”

  The woman looked up from her book and adjusted her glasses, the harsh facade replaced by a look of indecision. She knows.

  “Dressed like a scientist,” said Dawn. “White clothes. Maybe a long apron.”

  The woman pointed again. “That way. Stepped off a boat here this morning and just started walking.”

  That was quick. Dawn wasn’t sure how he’d managed to stow away on a ship since he didn’t have money. She was pretty sure no one had ever gotten so far out of Gamon in so little time.

  “Is there anything I can do besides walk?” asked Dawn.

  “Depends. Got money?”

  Dawn looked around. Flashing her money could be trouble, but the passengers from the caravan were still getting out and stretching, and the woman she was talking to didn’t appear to be a threat. “Yes.”

  “I got a jack stock. Shortest mule I ever saw. How much you got?”

  Dawn managed to grab two silver coins without letting them clink against the others. “Enough?”

  The woman took the silver. “Most folk wouldn’t trade a copper fleck for that thing. Got to love city folk.”

  “And some food. For traveling.”

  “This here’s a tradin’ post. I got plenty of dried meats and fruits, which stay good for a few months. Least, that’s what they told me when they delivered them a few months ago. How much you need?”

  Depends. How much food do you need when you’re never going back home?

  “A lot.”

  “First thing’s first: let me take you out back to meet your new friend.”

  Behind the house, the mule wasn’t even tied up. It poked its nose at an outcropping of grass with no other care in the world. It made a rude grunt at their approach, and Dawn realized she didn’t want to touch it.

  “It’s smaller than I expected,” said Dawn.

  “Life is like that.” The woman picked up a thick leather blanket and tossed it over the mule’s back. “That’ll do for a saddle. Talk to him for a minute to make sure he’s comfortable with you.”

  The woman left, and Dawn approached the diminutive mount with an outstretched hand. Ignoring her, the mule pulled at the last shards of grass and then licked its face. Dawn couldn’t think of a thing to say.

  “Here.” The woman returned and shoved a bag into Dawn’s arms, filled with paper-wrapped food.

  She draped four water skins over the mule’s back. It didn’t seem to care. When things were settled and tied down, the woman pointed to the mule’s back. “Well, he isn’t gettin’ any younger.”

  “Right.” Dawn approached. “Just...sit on his back?”

  “That’s how I do it. Least you’re dressed for it.”

  Dawn reach
ed a leg up and over and slowly eased onto its bony back. “How do I make him go?”

  “Just kick ‘im. Then tug on his collar if he’s going the wrong way. And I hope you’re not in a hurry.”

  Dawn kicked back with both feet, but too lightly. The woman laughed, and the mule ignored her. Dawn clenched her teeth and kicked back hard, finally getting a response from the mule. It brayed and then walked.

  Walked.

  Like something stuck in tar, the mule walked out from behind the house with Dawn astride. It took tiny, tedious steps past the other folks from the wagon, barely even more efficient than if Dawn walked on her own two feet. Dawn smiled at the confused faces.

  “Safe trip!” laughed the woman. “Try not to fall off!”

  ◆◆◆

  It was faster than walking. Technically.

  The trip gave her plenty of time for thinking, and Dawn soon put her mind to calculating how fast she was going. The mule walked unbearably slow, but not as slow as it felt. And the jack mule’s agonizing pace would eventually catch her up to the Lodi boy, assuming he was still on foot.

  She kept mostly away from the river. There weren’t many settlements here, which meant there weren’t many boats in the water, but Dawn didn’t want to risk being seen. She didn’t even have a good notion of how far she would have to ride before reaching the settlement, but if the prisoner was going the same way then she would either catch up to him or find his body.

  When afternoon turned the sky orange, Dawn could see the remains of a city. Third Bend. She wasn’t sure if that was the city’s proper name, or just what they called it since it sat by a river bend. It was too small to appear on any decent map.

  Wooden planks jutted out of rubble mounds and scrap piles. Only a few buildings still stood. Their tall remains brooded about the city, only shelled out skeletons of their former selves, gathering around the wreckage like silent ghosts come to pay their respects. Near the bank, Dawn could make out the remains of a riverboat that had managed to crash into the scene and join the destruction.

  Amidst the ruins lay three large metal shapes. Dawn couldn’t believe it, at first, but she realized she was looking at the remains of three crashed sandships.