The White Brand (The Eastern Slave Series Book 2)

by Victor Poole

  Delmar put a hand on her arm and pulled her towards him. Ajalia saw him looking at the bruises that ran like dark water up her bare forearms.

  "Did he say anything about these?" Delmar asked in a quiet voice.

  "Who?" Ajalia asked. Blood was rushing into her cheeks.

  "My father," Delmar said impatiently. "Did he ask you about the marks?"

  "No," Ajalia said.

  Delmar let go of her arm.

  "Good," he said.

  "Why?" she asked.

  Delmar looked up the stairs behind her, and shook his head a little.

  "Later," he mouthed silently. Ajalia grimaced at him, and turned back up the stairs. She saw three golden heads peering out of a doorway down the narrow passage

  "Spies everywhere," she told Delmar. "Just like at home."

  When Ajalia had seen to the removal of the broken furniture, and chastised Nam for the waste, she set the boys to breaking down the furniture in the kitchen, and feeding it into the black garbage pit in the back stone courtyard. She tucked the slim leather book into her clothes, and took Sun, Clare, and Ossa into the market.

  She took them through the winding streets until she again stood before the stall of Calles, the fabric merchant's wife.

  "Wait here," she told the three girls, leaving them at the counter of the stall. She went into the inner room to have a conference with Calles.

  Calles was tucked into a corner of the inner room, her fingers flying over a long piece of fabric. She laid aside the needlework when she saw Ajalia, but Ajalia begged her to continue.

  "I come seeking a great favor, greater than I think you can pay," Ajalia told the Slavithe woman. She saw Calles's eyes flash at her words. A warmth spread through Ajalia's heart. She liked Calles.

  "I have acquired a number of young women," Ajalia said, "in my trades with your people. Too many of them are idle. I am willing to pay for them to be trained to a useful trade, but I need them out of my house. Do you know of any merchants who would tolerate clumsiness in exchange for a sum of money?"

  Calles was watching Ajalia closely, her needle dipping in and out of the fabric with a sound like moth wings.

  "I see you are embarrassed to ask me for help," Calles said. Ajalia folded her hands into her lap. "Perhaps your people are different," Calles said. "In Slavithe, it is considered an honor to assist a friend."

  "Would you think of me as a friend?" Ajalia asked, surprised. Calles sewed faster. Calles's needle snarled in the thread, and the fabric merchant's wife tsked, and undid the tangle.

  "I do not understand you," Calles said. "How could I not be your friend?"

  "Would you take a girl?" Ajalia asked her.

  "How many idle hands have you?" Calles asked.

  "I have three girls now," Ajalia said. "I may have more in a few days."

  "And they are clever?" Calles asked. Ajalia nodded.

  Ajalia watched the evening sun drift lazily through the window.

  "Your life is better now, than it was?" Ajalia asked. Calles nodded.

  "It is," Calles said.

  "I find some interest," Ajalia said slowly, "in creating disorder where I find evil, and in straightening out the tangle of power, when I dislike it."

  "And you dislike the slavery of my kind," Calles said softly, her eyes turned to her sewing.

  "No one else is willing to call it slavery," Ajalia observed.

  "I knew what I was when I had my first son," Calles said. Her voice was low, and her fingers holding the needle trembled.

  "I cannot help my servants," Ajalia said, "but I can expose them to those who may teach them to think for themselves."

  "And you hope that I may be such a one," Calles finished.

  "I did hope so, yes," Ajalia agreed.

  "I will take them," Calles said, "but I will accept no pay." Ajalia opened her mouth to protest, but Calles raised fingers coarsened with the constant prick of needles.

  "This is my condition," Calles said. "I will take the three girls, but only if you do not try to pay me, or my husband behind my back."

  "You drive a difficult bargain," Ajalia told her.

  Calles's eyes flashed again.

  "You are not the only one who dislikes an imbalance of power," the seamstress said. Ajalia nodded in defeat.

  "I accept your terms," Ajalia said.

  "When you have others prepared," Calles said, "I will help you find them places."

  "Are there others like you?" Ajalia asked. The mouth of the fabric merchant's wife thinned into a determined line.

  "There will be others," she said, "very soon."

  "I am glad of it," Ajalia told her. Calles smiled; her face was like that of a she-wolf.

  "So are we," Calles said. "Now, where are my little workers?"

  Ajalia brought the three young women into the inner room, and introduced them to Calles.

  "They are honest," Ajalia told Calles, "and they will be discreet."

  "I have no need of discretion," Calles said with a laugh. She lifted up Clare's hands. "Soft," she remarked. "How much sewing do you have?" she asked Clare.

  "I can mend," Clare said, "and I helped them a little," she added, gesturing towards Ajalia, "with the long seams."

  "Fine," Calles said. "What about you?" she asked Ossa. Ajalia took Sun a little to one side.

  "What was Nam doing to my little boys?" Ajalia asked. Sun gave a start, and looked uneasily towards Calles.

  "You can't tell," Sun whispered.

  "You're staying here," Ajalia told Sun. "Nam doesn't know you're here."

  "You don't know Nam," Sun said quietly, still looking uncomfortable. Calles had thrust scraps of cloth into Ossa and Clare's hands, to observe samples of their stitching. Sun moved as if she would go to them. Ajalia put a hand on Sun's elbow.

  "I cannot stop it," Ajalia said quietly, "if I do not know what it is."

  Sun glanced up swiftly into her eyes.

  "She pretends to do magic," Sun whispered, flushing hot in her cheeks. "And she torments them at night."

  "And none of you stopped her?" Ajalia asked. Sun's face glowed.

  "I'm sorry," Sun said. "I did not know what to do."

  "That is no excuse," Ajalia told her, "and I will not forget." She released the girl's elbow, and Sun hustled over to Calles, holding out her hands.

  "If there is trouble of any kind," Ajalia told Calles, "send them back, any time of the day or night."

  Calles nodded. She came close and pressed Ajalia's hand.

  "If they learn quickly, they will be a great boon," Calles said, so that only Ajalia could hear.

  "Thank you," Ajalia told her.

  Calles gave Sun a length of thread, and watched her thread a needle. Ajalia went to the door. She turned and watched the three young women, their hair still dressed in strips of green, and their eyes marked with the curious black Eastern paint. She watched them sew. Ossa's fingers were trembling over the thread, her lips pursed together in concentration. Sun was sewing deftly, her needle slipping in and out like fire. Clare was moving at a pace between the other two, her tongue stuck out, and her forehead creased with concentration.

  AJALIA ARRANGES HER HOUSEHOLD

  Ajalia went out of the inner room and into the street. The sunlight was falling down over the mountains, streaming into the fabric merchant's stall. The fabric merchant was leaning against the pillar of his stall; he lifted a hand in farewell as Ajalia went out into the street. She raised her hand in reply.

  Ajalia found it interesting that no one in Slavithe, aside from her own servants, had spoken about, or even seemed to visually notice the violent bruising on her arms. The raised scars were beginning to turn yellow and red, and the dark bruises on her skin extended from her palms to her elbows. The color was not so bad on the tops of her forearms, but the delicate skin inside her wrists and arms was a ribbon of sickly bruising. Ajalia had shut out the nausea that had been burbling on low ever since she had let Delmar manipulate her arms with the magic. She had thought
before that she knew what it was to feel stressed or sick all the time, but this discomfort was a new experience. She could feel a roiling tension moving up and down her spine; a careful sense of avoiding pain was beginning to inform all of her movements.

  Ajalia walked through the streets and watched the faces of the people passing by. She was not worried about hiding the scars on her arms anymore; the Eastern slaves were out of the city, and somehow she felt more free with the scars and the bruises exposed to the open air. She felt more honest, somehow.

  When Ajalia came to the little house, Delmar was knocking around in the street in front of the door. She made no sign and went into the house; he followed her as she went into the kitchen. Nam was there.

  "Where are the little boys?" Ajalia asked Nam. Delmar moved over to the side of the wall, where he could see Ajalia's face, and leaned against the wall. He had a pair of white rocks in his hand, and he was rattling them back and forth.

  "Upstairs," Nam said sourly. "Gull is making them work."

  "Good," Ajalia said.

  "Where are Clare and Ossa?" Nam asked. She was glaring up at Ajalia with her cheeks hardened; she looked mutinous. Circles were beginning to show under her eyes.

  "Sun told me about you," Ajalia told Nam.

  "Told you what?" Delmar asked.

  "She frightens little boys for fun," Ajalia told him.

  "I do not," Nam said hotly. "Sun is the one. She lied to you."

  "I saw the way they look at you," Ajalia told Nam. "You're in the wrong. I want it to stop."

  "Where's Sun gone?" Nam asked restlessly, looking around the kitchen as though she expected to see the Slavithe girl there.

  "Sun is not going to come back," Ajalia said. Nam uttered a mirthless laugh.

  "So you keep me upstairs, and you tell everyone to keep everything from me. She had a meeting," Nam said loudly to Delmar. "And the Thief Lord was there, and everyone here knows about it except for me."

  "No one told them not to talk to you," Ajalia told Nam. "You're nasty. No one likes you."

  Delmar grinned at Ajalia.

  "I think she's like you, a little bit," he told Ajalia. Ajalia grimaced at him.

  "I am not like her," Nam said hotly. "She's an awful slut."

  Delmar attempted, mostly unsuccessfully, to stifle a giggle. Nam shot him a look of death.

  "Am I the only one here now?" Nam asked. Her eyes were turning red, and her mouth was fiercely turned down in a frown. Ajalia thought that the thickset girl was trying not to cry.

  "Does she have the thing?" Ajalia asked Delmar suddenly. Delmar looked questioningly at Ajalia, his eyebrows tilted.

  "The thing?" he asked.

  "That thing, you told me about on the road," Ajalia said. "The thing that makes my soul pure, or whatever. Does she have it?" Ajalia pointed at Nam. Delmar squinted at the young woman.

  "No," he said at once.

  "Good," Ajalia said. She went close to Delmar, and put her face against his ear. His hair smelled like wild sky. "Go and find the boys called Daniel and Gull," she told him. Delmar sighed; she knew that he was breathing in the smell of her clothes. He nodded, and went out of the kitchen.

  "What did you say to him?" Nam demanded. "Where are my friends?"

  "Gone," Ajalia said. She sat down on a heap of sticks that was still bundled in the corner. The table and chairs had been taken apart, and most of the pieces had been disposed of already. Nam was sitting on a narrow block of wood. She had a piece of chair leg in her hands; she was twisting it back and forth, peeling slivers of pale wood from it, and making a pile of shards in her lap.

  "Were you hoping to use that as a weapon?" Ajalia asked, gesturing at the chair leg. Nam's shoulders stiffened; her mouth tightened.

  "You don't know anything about me," Nam said.

  "I know that you are afraid," Ajalia said.

  "I'm not afraid," Nam said scornfully.

  "All right," Ajalia said.

  They sat together. Nam threw a sliver of wood onto the floor. It made a whispering flop where it landed.

  "I am thinking of what to do with you," Ajalia told Nam.

  "Oh," Nam said sarcastically. "How nice."

  "Yes, it is nice," Ajalia told her. "It's actually very nice. I'm nice."

  "Whore," Nam spat.

  "Are you one?" Ajalia asked casually. Nam looked up at her with wide eyes.

  "What?" she asked faintly.

  "Are you a whore?" Ajalia asked. "Did your brother sell you to his friends?"

  Nam's hands began to shake.

  "That is absurd," Nam said in a voice that was too loud. "You're ridiculous. You must be rotten inside, to see evil everywhere."

  "Your brother," Ajalia asked, "did he sterilize you?"

  Nam made a face like a dying fish. There was no comprehension in her eyes; Ajalia thought that the girl was either traumatized or stupid.

  "Are you with child?" Ajalia asked Nam. Nam shook her head violently. "Have you been with child in the past?" Ajalia asked.

  Nam's face turned into a white, impenetrable mask.

  "You're disgusting," Nam whispered. "Filthy. Does your master beat you?" she added, sneering at Ajalia's arms.

  "No," Ajalia said, holding up her wrists to the light. "My first master did this."

  Nam stared at Ajalia's colorful arms. Her eyes traveled slowly up the long, crisscrossed scars, and the black and purple shadows that were surrounded by vivid prints of yellow.

  "Wasn't that a long time ago?" Nam asked cautiously.

  "Years and years ago," Ajalia said, turning her arms in the light.

  "Was he trying to kill you?" Nam asked.

  "Oh no," Ajalia told her, "I killed him, after he made this one." Ajalia touched her forefinger to the blackened skin that was twisted through the scarring on her left arm.

  "Why?" Nam asked. Her voice was soft and full of breath. Ajalia thought that the girl would trust her, if she could get her to confess.

  "He wanted to sell me," Ajalia said. "I didn't want to be sold." Ajalia examined Nam's face, which was flooding again with blood. Nam looked away from the bruises.

  "It was a long time ago," Ajalia added. "I was young."

  "Younger than me?" Nam asked.

  "Much," Ajalia said.

  "Were you pregnant?" Nam asked quickly. Ajalia looked her full in the face.

  "Never," she said.

  Nam pulled another long string of wood out of the chair leg.

  "How did you get your knife?" Nam asked.

  "My father gave it to me," Ajalia said. Nam looked up quickly.

  "Did he sell you?" she asked.

  "No," Ajalia said.

  Nam picked at the chair leg.

  "I wish I had a knife," Nam said.

  "You'd be killed," Ajalia said.

  "I would not," Nam said hotly. "I would protect myself."

  "The men would kill you," Ajalia said harshly. "You have a for sale sign on your body. They would see a knife as a challenge."

  Nam laughed at Ajalia.

  "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard," Nam hissed at Ajalia. "You don't know anything about it. And you carry a knife. I could carry a knife."

  Delmar came back into the kitchen, trailed behind by Gull, and then by Daniel. The two boys had pleased, conspiratorial looks on their faces. Ajalia took in the comradery passing cleanly between the two, and set her teeth against each other in annoyance.

  "Well," Ajalia told Delmar, who had resumed his spot against the wall. "You took a long time."

  Delmar shrugged. "They're fun boys," he said with a grin.

  "You're making friends," Ajalia told Daniel. Daniel straightened his face into a somber look. Ajalia grinned at him, and Daniel smiled back. She saw that he saw this new life as a game; he was having a glorious adventure. Ajalia examined Gull, who was tall enough to pass as a man, and saw what he was aiming for.

  "Gull," Ajalia asked. She could feel Nam's face turned again towards the heavy marks on her arms. Ajalia turned
her arms so that the light showed up the raised scars; she thought that Nam could see the places where the brands used to be. Ajalia told herself that she was imagining things.

  "Yes," Gull said. He was standing straight, respectful, his eyes turned benignly at Ajalia.

  "Are you protecting Daniel?" Ajalia asked. She met Gull's gaze, and the older boy kept his face smooth and even.

  "Yes, miss," Gull said.

  "Call me Ajalia," she said wearily.

  "Yes, Ajalia," Gull said at once.

  "Look," Ajalia told the room at large. "I am tired and I don't want to deal with this. Delmar, will you do a little magic, please?"

  Delmar started up from the wall, his eyes darting to the young woman, and then to the two boys.

  "Um," he said, his hands half-raised, and his chest expanding with readiness.

  "Look," Ajalia said again. "I'm tired, and I don't want to deal with this. They know about magic. You know about magic. I know about the magic. Will you please do some magic?"

  Delmar looked around at Ajalia.

  "I can't," he said awkwardly.

  "Why?" she asked him. She felt as though a large pile of rocks was falling down the back of her neck. She wanted to curl into a ball and go to sleep. She wanted to wrap herself in a voluminous blanket and never emerge. She wanted to shout at Philas.

  "Well, I'm just not supposed to do that kind of thing," Delmar said. He was speaking in a half-whisper, his eyes darting from Ajalia to the young people and back again.

  "Okay," Ajalia said. She sat deeper on her pile of sticks, and put her chin into her hands. The three young servants were staring openly at Delmar; Gull and Daniel had their mouths open a little, their eyes full of wonder. Nam was looking at Delmar with something like speculation in her eyes.

  "He's not interested," Ajalia told Nam. Nam jumped, and looked at Ajalia before hiding her eyes in her chair leg.

  "Who's not?" Delmar asked Ajalia.

  "Nam's a prostitute," Ajalia said.

  "A what?" Delmar asked.

  "She sells sex," Ajalia told him.

  "I do not," Nam said in shocked tones.

  "Do too," Gull shot at her. "She's awful," Gull told Ajalia. "Everyone knows about her."

  "Liar," Ajalia told Nam. "Whore, and liar."