What she said made me remember something said long ago. Was she lying to me, even now?
“Fern had said the family was thinking of expanding into slavery, back when I first met him.” I could feel the anger seeping into me. “Do you expect me to believe that's what you're really doing?”
The Goodmother looked at me, blinking rapidly, her mouth falling slightly open. Then she clicked her tongue and scowled, though not at me. “Fern. That boy is always half a ruple short of the right price.” She looked at me, her expression softening.
“I think you misunderstood what he meant, or more likely, he misunderstood what I meant. We've been using the family to buy out slaves and set them free for quite some time now. We send them on to the gypsies, who keep them safe and give them a place to recover until they're ready to forge their own path, if they choose.”
I watched her carefully. I knew she could use her charm to try and make me believe anything. Yet the way she carried herself, hands tense and eyes pleading, made me want to believe her. Almighty, but I didn't know what I could trust in anymore.
“And that brings me to the point I needed to discuss with Hawke,” she continued. That got my attention. “See, not all slaves in Astra are homegrown, if you will.”
I didn't understand quite what she meant. She raised an eyebrow, questioning, and my silence answered her.
“Do you think,” she asked, “that there are no humans in Grankul?”
I didn't know what to think of that. I hadn't even known the name of the place until a few weeks ago. Certainly, I had never given the grinel homeland much thought until then either. I assumed that I was given the answer to her question, though, just by her tone.
“You may be surprised to learn that there's quite a lively market in goods from overseas,” she said. Her hand ran across the cover of the book she had been reading. “You never know what sorts of things might be hiding on those ships that brave the journey.”
“So you needed to talk about illegal smuggling with Hawke?” I asked.
“Of a sort. My family has a hand firmly placed in nearly every corner of Astra. Those businesses are no different. But there's been a disturbing trend over the last couple years.” The Goodmother stood again and returned to her desk. She rifled through the stack of papers there for a moment, picking out about a half dozen sheets, then turned and gave the stack to me.
“Those are a ship's manifests, rough lists of everything they had with them when they docked.” She tapped the top sheet pointedly. “See if you notice a pattern there.”
I gave them a cursory glance, a question playing on my lips. I had no idea how I was supposed to know how to read a manifest, as she'd called it. As it turned out, I really didn't need to.
“These are blank,” I said. I flipped through each page, and every one was the same as the last: a name of some business, a date set sometime in the last two years, and the same looping signature at the bottom of every one. Not a single item was listed.
“Now, ask yourself this,” the Goodmother said, leaning over my shoulder. She pretended to study the strange documents, but her lips were right next to my ear, and her question was barely above a whisper. “Who would bother risking a dangerous voyage across the ocean, just to bring an empty ship to our shores?”
It did seem a stupid thing to do. I was no stranger to the risk-reward life of smuggling, but I doubted that anyone in their right mind would make such a trip just for pleasure. Unless…
“These weren't empty ships, were they?” I asked. The Goodmother chuckled in my ear.
“You are sharp, aren't you, hon?” she said. Both she and Uraj apparently didn't have a high opinion of my logic.
“Then these were full of slaves?” I ventured a guess. It made sense that they wouldn't be so dumb as to declare they were holding captives onboard.
“They were supposed to be,” she answered. She gently pulled the papers from my hand and tossed them absentmindedly back onto the desk. “Human slaves, however, are listed on shipping manifests as 'expendables.' ”
“Then why are they—” I suddenly realized what she had just said. “Wait, what do you mean, 'human' slaves are? As opposed to what?”
The Goodmother's eyes glimmered, dancing with anticipation. She knew I almost had it.
“You can't be serious,” I said. “You're telling me those ships had…”
“Grinel.” She stated it so certainly, so sure of herself. “The only time a ship claims to carry no cargo is when it's full to the brim with demons.” I didn't want to believe her, but neither could I believe she would say such a thing in jest.
“Who would even do such a thing?” I said.
“Do you think all grinel see each other as equal?” She laughed dryly. “They're not so different from us. They have their own lords and ladies, their own merchants and artisans. Their own thieves and murderers.” A shadow passed over her face. “Now, imagine you're a powerful figure in the grinel world. Your lessers look to you for protection and safety, in exchange for their loyalty.”
She returned to her seat and flopped down. She leaned in close, and she spoke quickly and quietly. “Now, let's say you've taken a load of those murderers and thieves off the street. They're crowding jails and eating up resources to keep alive. You could kill them, but there's so much hassle involved with that. You should know firsthand how dangerous the grinel are.”
I nodded. Hawke and I had more than one encounter with a grinel in our time together. They were stronger than a wild beast, so fast the eye almost can't follow, and too cunning by half. I suspected even the grinel didn't relish the idea of confronting their own.
“Now, what if there was a way to rid yourself of that burden and make a profit on top of it?” the Goodmother asked, her eyebrows arching.
“But who would want to buy grinel?” I asked. The Goodmother snorted and gave me a hollow smile.
“And that's the question I put to King Morau. Who indeed?” She backed away from me, and I realized I had been tensing up something terrible. I tried to relax while she casually picked her book back up and began thumbing through it again.
“For all the information I have at my fingertips, I can't find anything on who's been receiving these mysteriously empty ships, or what they're doing with this nonexistent cargo. My family is searching day and night, but so far nothing has come up. Though it pains me to admit it, I'm afraid something far larger than I could possibly deal with is looming just out of sight. The only ones with the kind of power to face that are the Old Kings.”
This wasn't the type of news I wanted to hear right now. We had enough on our plates trying to somehow cobble together a party that could face the Conclave. Now we had to worry about the threat of a possible army of demons lurking somewhere in Astra, ready to strike whenever they felt like it.
“If there's anyone who could deal with that,” I finally said, “it's Hawke. We'll muddle through somehow.”
The Goodmother gave another sad smile, not looking up from her book. “I can only hope your faith in him is as well placed as you think.” She bowed a little toward where I had come in. “Knock on the wall, and Vance will take you back.”
I thanked her and stood to leave. “I would think with everything you've just told me, you'd have better things to do than be bottled up here reading.”
This time her smile was more genuine. “When you've seen as much as I have, hon, you find time to enjoy the little things when you can. Elsewise, you're likely to go mad.”
“I'm surprised you can even read that. It just looks like scribbling to me.”
“Oh, reading grinel is even more a chore than speaking it,” she said. “They do have a certain flair for storytelling, though.”
I didn't want to ask, but my curiosity got the better of me. “What kind of story is it?”
Her laugh was so light and carefree, it made her look ten years younger. “Maybe when you're a little older, we can talk about it.”
I shook my head, puzzled, and de
cided it wasn't a great idea to press any further. The wall slid open almost immediately after I knocked, and Vance stood on the other side at attention. He looked straight ahead, not quite at me, and beckoned with a hand toward the darkness. I gave a brief farewell glance over my shoulder at the Goodmother, but she was thoroughly absorbed in her work, a slight tinge of red on her cheeks.
I quickly stepped into the passage, unable to make heads or tails of her.
* * *
Hawke was bouncing on the balls of his feet with impatience when I stepped out of that claustrophobic nightmare again. He all but sprang forward, fussing over me as if I'd been out all night without leaving a note. To be fair, I had lost all sense of time down in that tomb-like getaway. For all I knew, I had been away all night.
Once I convinced him that I was in one piece, we quickly talked about our respective meetings with the Goodmother. Just like she'd said, he had been made aware of the likelihood that someone was hiding a small army of grinel somewhere in Astra. Besides that, she had apparently been fairly tight-lipped with him. I decided not to mention her somewhat forceful attempt at recruiting me; knowing Hawke, he might have tried smashing through the wall to have stern words with her.
“So what do we do, then?” I asked. “Do we put the Conclave on hold and try to hunt whoever's been sneaking around?”
Hawke pursed his lips, lost in thought. After a moment he shook his head. “I don't think that'd be wise. I might not be wild about the Conclave, but Uraj was right when he said that we won't get another chance at it. Besides, there are too many variables out of our control with this situation.”
“What does that mean?” I said. I was surprised Hawke wasn't frothing at the mouth at the thought of innumerable grinel hiding just under his nose.
“We don't have any clue where this horde of grinel might be, and we don't have the luxury to spend months combing the country to find it. Even if we had an idea, we would need to muster our own forces to deal with it, which would eat up even more time. Time we can't afford, if we truly plan on going to Grankul.” He gave me a serious look. “I've made the trip before, Micasa. Believe me when I say we'll need all the time we can to prepare. And that's assuming we can get our hands on those nullstones. We still have no idea where they are, remember.”
“But we can't just ignore something like this,” I argued. Hawke bit his thumb, his eyes refusing to meet mine.
“I know, but there's so much we don't know right now.” His voice dropped, making it sound like he was talking more to himself than me. “Whichever direction we take, we take a terrible risk.” His expression hardened, and his voice grew more certain. “So, we keep looking for Bojangles and the Giant's Shadow.”
“Are you sure?” I asked worriedly.
“Until we know more, there's not much we can do. We can send word to Uraj and have him ready Damkarei for any sudden movements, but we can't afford to let the nullstones slip away.”
I still wanted to go out and hunt for the grinel. They might have been the same ones that had attacked the Mad Riders and hurt Blake. But I knew Hawke was right. We had no way to know where they were. Reluctantly, I agreed.
“If that will be all, would you please remount and blindfold yourselves so I can lead you out?”
I'd nearly forgotten that Vance had been standing there the whole time. Hawke gave him a withering glare, but kept his tongue to himself. We quickly saddled our camels up and mounted. Once I was well seated, I pulled my scarf over my head to spare myself from Vance's irritation. It didn't take long before I felt my steed urged forward, being led back out to the surface.
My stomach lurch as we ascended whatever hidden passageway we had taken to get there, and I was barely able to brace myself when the arid wind whipped into me unexpectedly. I waited for a good quarter of an hour before I decided for myself that we were far away enough to keep the hidden location sufficiently hidden and removed the blindfold. I tugged the reins from Vance's hands. He stopped and turned, looking like he wanted to say something, but Hawke cut him off.
“You've been quite a help, sir. I think we can make our own way from here.” His tone was friendly enough, but it was clear he wasn't up for whatever argument Vance wanted to make. Hawke took his own reins in hand, giving our guide a pointed stare that dared him to retort. Vance swallowed and settled for a scowl. I gave him one last friendly wave, then urged my camel after Hawke's, following our compass to make our way back to the Mad Riders' camp.
The sky was a velvet blue by the time we caught sight of the forest's edge, and I breathed a little easier. The reputation of the Mad Riders kept most outlaws from hunting within sight of the trees. Still, visibility was poor, and I didn't let my guard down for a moment, my essence stirring just below my surface and ready to call forth at a moment's notice.
Hawke conjured a ball of fire from his hand, startling me for a moment. The burning orb simply floated into the air and brightened until it resembled a tiny sun, casting light for hundreds of feet around us. It would make us easier to see, but there was no way anything could sneak up on us.
We had barely entered the forest proper when we heard the hoofbeats of several mounts. Hawke drew Symphony in a single smooth motion, and my own hand rested on the hilt of my short-sword. A few shadowed figures could be seen darting through the trees, but the thick shadows cast by Hawke's light made them impossible to make out.
A lone rider darted out into view, his hood drawn over his face. I prepared to summon my essence, but I caught sight of their ratty, pine needle-littered cloak. It was one of the Mad Riders. I relaxed a bit until I saw how lathered their camel was, how heavily the rider was breathing. They had been riding hard for some time.
“It is you two!” he panted. The rider turned and shouted into the trees, “I found them! Here!”
“Is something wrong?” Hawke asked. “Another attack at camp?”
My heart seized. If something happened to Blake…
“It's not the camp,” the rider said, shaking his head, “but there's been news of an attack. Liturgy has been annihilated.”
Chapter 12: Ruined
Luke. Winter.
My mind raced with panic, even days after we had set out from the Mad Riders' camp. Restless and Sir Brown Horse were fast, but we dared not push them too hard. They were our quickest way back to Liturgy, and we couldn't risk injuring them or having them die from exhaustion.
Still, Hawke and I both rode harder than when we had left. When we stopped, it was only to rest the horses, and our worry made it nearly impossible to sleep. Both of us only snuck in a couple hours a night, just enough to get the horses ready for another long stretch of riding.
Hawke in particular looked far worse off than me. I could tell he felt responsible for whatever happened, and it was eating at him every moment. It didn't help that the information we had gotten was vague. A lone rider had arrived at the Mad Riders' camp, one of Uraj's couriers that travelled the country to spread news around. They only knew that something had hit Liturgy like a storm, supposedly razing the town to the ground. The death toll was still unknown.
So we ate in the saddle and stuck to the Astral Road to make the best time, damning caution altogether. By the fifth day, Hawke and I were close to passing out in the saddle, and our horses were heaving their breath in steaming puffs, but we reached the crucial sideroads that would take us to the town. We risked slowing the horses to a trot, and traded off napping in the saddle. As worried as we were, we knew that we'd be less than useless if we showed up only to keel over.
Before we even caught sight of Liturgy, I was already noticing things that made my gut clench. The sky was growing gray and acrid with smoke, and every breeze carried the scent of ashes and blood. I steeled myself for what we would find.
When the first buildings came into view, I could already see the report hadn't been exaggerated. The once gleaming white houses and businesses had been reduced to charred husks, at best. Some of them had completely collapsed in, leaving lit
tle more than blackened frames and piles of debris in their place. The gentle spring winds kicked gusts of flaky ash down the road, leaving me squinting and spitting as we approached.
There were people hustling through the streets, but at a distance I only made out a couple of the stark white robes of the believers. The rest were clad in leather armor and sandy colored tunics I found all too-familiar. A few of them caught sight of us riding up and turned, their hands straying towards the swords at their side.
“Halt! No one enters here without permission from Lord Uraj!” one of the soldiers declared.
“I'm King Hawke Morau,” answered Hawke. “In the name of the Old Kings, I demand you let us through.” His tone was sharper than necessary, but I couldn't blame him. The way I was feeling, I probably would have shouted at the poor man.
The soldiers looked at each other, murmuring to each other. They'd likely heard Hawke had returned to Damkarei recently, but I doubted any of them had actually seen him. We'd be lucky if any of them recognized him.
“It's fine, men. They're with me.”
A familiar baritone cut through their discussion, and I looked up to see Uraj striding down the road. He was fully suited in his armor, the plates the same color as the ashes still fluttering around us. The soldiers snapped to attention, and Uraj dismissed them with a gesture.
“Uraj, what's happened here?” Hawke asked. His voice was strained with exhaustion and a healthy dose of fear. Uraj didn't look terribly well himself. Judging from the bags under his eyes, he had probably slept about as much as we had these last few days.
“Come with me. Micasa, you too.” There was no familiarity to Uraj's tone. He was playing his part as King Kuznetsov now, the immovable force that fought for the people. Hawke started to argue with him, but Uraj held up a single hand and silenced him.
“You three, tend to their horses,” he ordered to the soldiers. They saluted, and once we dismounted, they whisked Sir Brown Horse and Restless away towards a makeshift stable erected nearby. I hoped that we hadn't pushed the poor animals too hard.
Savants of Humanity (The Scholar's Legacy Book 2) Page 13
