She needed the vapor before her present project could proceed, and she was too agitated to handle the equipment safely. She was finished for today. She extinguished the athanor and began to clean and put away her equipment. She hummed a little; Shianan might not be to Bethia’s refined taste, but Ariana liked him, anyway.
The surviving glass vials went on the high shelf, the glass and ceramic jars of ingredients on the lower. She left the athanor on the table, but the reference texts belonged in the cabinet in the corner.
As she replaced the books, she noted the small cloth bag she’d left there, not exactly hidden but out of the way of a casual glance. This was the remainder of her Ryuven medicine, a medley of dried herbs and other plant bits. Mage Parma had suggested that she examine the Ryuven herbs, but Ariana had suspected it was a ploy to occupy her anxious mind. Well, she needed something to occupy her now. She took down the bag and emptied it upon her work surface.
Some of the dried leaves looked familiar. This one was nearly ruegrass, and this one looked like a close cousin of wolf nettle. She began to sort them into piles. The sand sprig went here, and the trident-shaped leaves over there. Was this redleaf? She hadn’t seen it often, but she thought that was its name. She brought a dusty book from the shelf and began scanning the sketches. She hadn’t realized so many of the Ryuven plants had cousins in the human world. Mudvein, and lacy nettle—but wasn’t that toxic?—and yellowroot...
There were a few that were too unfamiliar to place, but the fact that so many were recognizable prompted her to wonder if the rest might be included in a more complete herbal. Her father had a much larger volume. What if the Ryuven world did in fact share plants with hers? She didn’t know what that might mean, but one could never discount new knowledge. And it was a far safer activity than handling glassware.
She folded several specimens into a sheet of paper and went to her father’s office. He greeted her cheerfully, his eyes bright. “Hello, darling. Have you brought any news?”
“What do you mean?” The wretched man knew everything. She shook her head. “I came to borrow your herbal. Mine doesn’t include these.”
“Well, let me help you look. I can easily step away from this for a few moments. What are these? I don’t recognize them, either.”
“I brought them with me, from—over there. They were part of my medicine when I was ill.”
“Interesting.” He brought down a great book.
“The others look like plants I know, so I thought perhaps these could be here, too. But how could we share flora with the Ryuven world?”
“How can we share a language? Let’s look.” He flipped pages and began noting aspects of the dried leaf. “Three lobes, all pointed together... I wish I knew the color when fresh... A bit of woody stem...”
Ariana peered over his shoulder. “What’s that one?”
He tapped the illustration with a finger. “Dall sweetbud.”
Ariana made a face. “Dall sweetbud? It sounds like a whore’s name.”
“Ariana, darling, try to act the part of a lady, especially in front of your dear old father. Dall sweetbud was a precious herb, but it’s not been harvested here for, oh, a couple of generations, at least.”
“And this is it?”
“I don’t—well, I wonder... I’ve never seen it, of course. It’s very difficult to cultivate, and most of the wild plots were gathered too aggressively and exterminated.”
“So this is valuable?”
“If it is dall sweetbud, it’s quite valuable indeed. But I’m not sure that it is dall sweetbud.” He set the trident leaf aside and picked another. “There can’t be too many with this shape... Cliff bristle! This is also rare, though not like the dall sweetbud. It can be rendered a poison, though not one of the more efficient varieties. It affects the mind, dulling the senses and slowly killing the control of one’s limbs. This was in your medicine?”
“It did blunt sensations...”
He shrugged. “Perhaps the dall sweetbud counteracted the greater damage.”
“Then you think it is dall sweetbud?”
“I don’t know.” Ewan Hazelrig looked absorbed in thought, rubbing at his chin with a forefinger. “You could ask Tamaryl and Maru. I don’t know that they’d know herbs, but it couldn’t hurt to ask.”
Ariana nodded. “All right. I’ll make some sketches of all the different leaves, too, just in case.”
Could that unusual specimen really be dall sweetbud? If it were, she mused, that could make it a valuable trading commodity, and with something to trade for crops, the Ryuven would have no need to raid and the long war might end.
And if their worlds shared plants, what else might they share? Could human crops end the Ryuven famine? Had the ancients drawn Ryuven when they painted wings on men? Her thoughts ran wild in uncontrolled speculation as her pencil moved, faithfully recording the specimen’s details.
An hour passed, and then another. Ariana was absorbed in drawing the strange herbs, recording each specimen and annotating the sketch with remarks on color, consistency, the tiny cilia on the underside of a leaf, the way the veins came together. It was not difficult work, but it demanded concentration, and at last she realized it was late afternoon and Shianan had not yet come.
Had he forgotten her? Had he gone to her home instead of her office? Had he changed his mind? No, surely he would come. He had many duties and it was not yet evening. He would yet come.
But when she had finished documenting all of the Ryuven samples, he still had not appeared.
She would go to him, then. She wrapped herself in her cloak against the winter chill and left the Wheel. But when she knocked at the commander’s door, there was no answer.
She knocked again, not knowing what else to do. Surely she had not imagined it all? But still there was no response from within. She tested the door; it was locked.
“The commander’s not there, my lady mage,” offered a voice behind her.
Ariana spun, startled, and swallowed her surprise. “Do you know where I could find him?” she asked the soldier.
He shook his head. “I’m sorry, but he’s not in Alham. He left this afternoon, we heard.”
Left! Without speaking to her? “Did something happen? An emergency, something he had to see to?”
The soldier gave her an apologetic shrug. “I don’t know. We were only told we wouldn’t have evening training with him. If there’s been a raid or something like, we didn’t hear of it. He didn’t take a company.”
He left alone—left Alham, left her, left without saying a word. He had gone without soldiers, so it was not a military crisis. He was gone. It stuck her harder than she would have thought.
The soldier looked concerned at her distress. “Is there anything I can do for you, my lady mage?”
She shook her head. “No, I—no, thank you. I shall manage.”
He nodded respectfully before moving on. Ariana swallowed against a tightening throat and began walking in the opposite direction. She drew up her hood as tears stung her eyes, surprising her further. She had only wondered, hadn’t she? She hadn’t counted upon his courtship, had she?
What had happened? Where had he gone?
CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
THERE WERE MORE PEOPLE in the stable now, looking over the stock. Luca leaned his aching head against the wooden wall and tried to think. Given the caravan’s route, the nearest town large enough to support a trading stable of this size would be Cascais. It was a trade town, supplying caravans and providing a market for merchants to swap goods and balance their trains. Roads from Cascais led in all directions. If they could escape, they could find their way easily to Alham or Fhure—but Luca was chained to the wall.
Cole wanted to help, but he was afraid. He had been conditioned too long to obey orders, and he had paid for disobedience too dearly to risk gain. Luca was not sure he could count on the slave. But he had no other choice. Perhaps if he pledged Cole his freedom... Poor Isen. And Marla. What had become of her
?
The sense honed under Ande alerted him, and he opened his eyes to see a man standing before his place in the aisle of waiting slaves. The man eyed Luca critically. “What’re you?”
Luca hesitated. Should he present himself well, sell early and try to escape? But what if his new master chained him as Renner had done, and he stood a better chance here? “I’m just me,” he answered, his voice deliberately slow. “I can carry things, when I’m not sick.”
The man frowned and moved on.
Cole wove through the light traffic. “Master,” he whispered, “they’ve listed you for auction in the morning.”
Luca’s heart sank. He wouldn’t show well at auction and would sell for cheap labor—in this region, as likely the mines or salt valleys as anything else. “Take me from here. Release me, and we’ll walk out.”
Cole hesitated, conflict evident in his eyes. “Master, I...”
“You’re an overseer; no one will question you leading a slave out.”
“What about the cuffs? We’ll just be taken again as runaways.”
“We’ll think of something. We’ll have time for that when we’re away from here. Cole!”
Cole looked down, eyebrows furrowed. “If we’re caught...”
“If we’re caught, you can claim you came after me.”
“But they might see us leaving.”
“They might not!” Luca could hear desperation in his voice. “Cole, you have to do this.”
“Cole!” came a loud voice.
Cole stiffened. “It’s Asher.” He straightened and looked up and down the aisle, scanning the browsers. “I have to go.”
“Cole, remember—”
Asher, the guard, appeared from the crowd. “Why aren’t you ever where I need you?” He frowned and shifted his eyes to Luca. “You seem to be here a lot. Maybe you’re not just rubbing his nose in it. You wouldn’t be stupid enough to be planning something, would you?”
Cole blanched. “No! No, I wouldn’t, my lord.”
“No? Good. But if I see you here again without my direction, you’ll be on the flats before you can blink. And you can pickle in the salt and sun and I’ll be a thousand pias richer, so it’s nothing to me. Now get to the east ring and get those wagons moved.”
“Yes, my lord.” Cole bobbed his head and started away without looking at Luca.
Asher bent close, scowling and making Luca’s pulse race. “You’re keeping quiet. Don’t even think about planning anything. We can make it so you’ll be glad to sell out of here. Auction in the morning, unless you sell tonight, so give up any dreams you had of running off.”
Luca licked his lips. “I have brothers who can ransom me—”
“A nice thought! But do you really think I’ll risk ransom and arrest when I can have the sale money safely now?” Asher grinned. “They can ransom you from your new master. Good luck with that.”
He left, and Luca’s heart sank. Cole would have even less courage now, and with Asher suspicious, they had less chance of success.
So near. He had been so near to happiness and freedom and a new life, and it had all been stolen by greedy treacherous bandits. He wanted to rail and kick, but his head hurt too much, and he knew too well protest would only accomplish ill.
Life had never been fair. It would be effort better spent to think on what he could do now.
Thir or Jarrick could ransom him, but few masters would give their newly purchased slaves paper and the coin to send a message. Luca would need to assure them of more than they’d paid, and he would have to explain somehow to his brothers that he had lost his inheritance and found himself enslaved again... That was a cheap price, compared to living a slave again, but he didn’t relish the thought.
“Look at this lot,” a man complained to his companion. “They look out of breath just sitting here. ’Soats, we’ll never find a pair that can take the hills.”
Luca registered the words dimly, used to casual insults and frank assessments. He kept his eyes down, not wanting to draw attention.
“You’ve got to take something. We can’t go on with just two, no matter how you push them. And we want something left at the end of the trip, anyway, so we can’t kill them on the road.”
“I know, I know. But look at these.”
“Look at that one. He’ll know the road, he’s old enough to have made it.”
“King’s oats.”
The exclamation, uncommon on the Wakari Coast, caught Luca’s ear. He lifted his aching head to scan for the speakers. “My lords!”
The short, wide man in front of him looked surprised at the slave’s abrupt address. “Yes?”
“My lords are from Alham? Or near it?”
The man glanced skeptically at his partner but answered. “What is it to a slave?”
Luca gulped, trying to formulate his plan even as he spoke. Home to Shianan. “My lords, I need to get to Alham. If you take me there, there’s profit in it for you.”
“You need to get to Alham?” repeated the taller man incredulously.
He had only a moment to seize their interest. “I know it sounds ridiculous, but—I shouldn’t be here. I was stolen. I have been stolen, more than once.” He judged they would be suspicious of a freeman demanding his liberty; that could lead to legal troubles and they’d avoid the risk. “My rightful master is in Alham, and he will pay for my return.”
“You’re that important to him?”
“I am not just a draft slave, though that’s what I’ll sell as here. They don’t know I’m trained.” Education had saved him once, and it could save him again. “My master in Alham will pay twice my price here, making you a handsome profit.”
“And if you’re lying? Maybe you’re just anxious to go to Alham because it’s the opposite direction from the mines, and you’d rather we dump you back in the market there.”
“No—no, there’s a guarantee for you.” Luca licked his lips. “I’m a clerk, an accountant, a good one. And I’m educated in other areas, too. I’ve been a tutor, when I wasn’t accounting. If I’m not redeemed in Alham, you can sell a clerk or tutor for far more than what you paid for a draft slave.”
The two men exchanged glances. “What if you’re lying about being educated?”
“Test me. Ask me something of history, or ask me to reconcile some figures.”
“’Soats, I wouldn’t know if you were right about the history.” The shorter man tipped his head to appraise Luca. “Twice what we pay? You’re sure?”
Luca wasn’t, but he hoped it would be true. “Twice. Or you sell me as a clerk.”
“You know a clerk’s price is more than twice that of a scrawny draft.”
Luca’s heart spasmed. He hadn’t thought of that in his desperate grasping at straws. “You’d need proof that I had the training, my lord. I could refuse to give correct answers until you took me to Alham.”
The man laughed. “Or maybe, if he needs you as much as you say, your master will pay more than twice.” He gave a curt jerk of his head. “On your feet. I want to see you, and an educated slave should know enough to show some respect.”
Luca rose carefully, turning to keep a hand against the wall. “I’m sorry, my lord. My head’s not quite clear.”
“What’s wrong with you?”
“No fault of my own, I swear. I’m a good servant. But I took a knock to the head.”
“So you’re no good to us unless we find this master of yours.”
“No! No, I’ll be fine soon. I can earn my keep.”
“How’s a tutor at moving weight?” asked the taller of the two.
“I have been in harness before.”
“Oh?” He frowned. “You’re not much to look at.”
“I took a single over the Faln Plateau. And if you’re looking for a strong back, I can recommend one here. There’s a slave called Cole, serving presently as an—”
“Oh, him? Broad fellow? They called him an overseer, asked an overseer’s price.”
; Luca scrabbled mentally. “But I heard them mention the salt flats...”
“No, it’s the auction for him, unless someone takes him first. Too pricey for my purse, anyway. What will they want for you?”
“As you say, my lord, I don’t look like much for labor, and I’ve got a lump swelling out of my skull. Also, they’d rather be done with me quickly if they can. I’m stolen and they know it, but they’re trying to turn a quick profit. Offer them four hundred to start.”
The men exchanged glances, but Luca saw the gleam of interest in their eyes. “So that’s eight hundred we’ll have for you in Alham.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“And you’ll work your way there.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“We don’t need a clerk, we need a man in harness. We can’t afford to take a slave on a pleasure trip. You’ll give us good work.”
Luca swallowed. “I’ll do my best, my lord.”
“All right, then. We’ll see what they think you’re worth.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE
MARU RUBBED AT HIS shoulder. It was his wing which hurt—it was always cold here, it seemed, and it made his mending bone ache—but that was awkward to reach without straining the injury, and sometimes if he rubbed his shoulder just so, it eased his wing for a short while.
Through the open door, he could see Tamaryl concentrating over the broken fragment of crystal, and Maru could feel occasional power fluctuations in the room. When Maru had asked how the reservoir was progressing, Tamaryl had snapped at him, and so Maru stayed outside. His friend had meant nothing by it, but Maru would not disturb his work again. He wanted Tamaryl to succeed. He wanted them to have a chance to return home.
His eyes shifted to the folded sheet resting on the table in the entry. The paper had slid beneath the door two hours or so before, and Maru had waited until the messenger had safely gone before collecting it.
He glanced back at Tamaryl’s hunched form. His friend had a tender regard for the rika. But Tamaryl held little hope for winning Ariana’rika’s love; he spoke of her only in removed tones, shielding himself. Even so, Maru could not bring himself to reveal that perhaps his friend’s rival had already declared his love.
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