The Collar and the Cavvarach

by Annie Douglass Lima

  “She’s waiting in your side yard, behind the pile of tires.”

  Wenn considered. “How old is she?”

  “Five.”

  “Oh. Really? I thought she’d be older. Hmm.” Wenn stared into space as though pondering how Ellie’s age might affect his ability to help her. “What’s she look like?”

  What does that have to do with anything? “She’s about this tall.” Bensin held out his hand. “Blonde hair, green eyes.”

  “Hmm,” he repeated. “Cute little thing?”

  “Why do you care if she’s cute?” Bensin retorted. This was starting to sound alarmingly like that other man’s conversation with the Creghorns earlier.

  “Oh, no reason. I like to help the cute kids, is all.” Wenn grinned, displaying his betel nut-stained teeth. “Guess it’s the daddy in me. I got a couple cute kids of my own back home.” He looked Bensin up and down and seemed about to say something else, then changed his mind. “Well, all right; I guess I can make it work. Let me have the money.”

  Bensin hesitated. “Should I call her in first?”

  “No, not just yet. I’ve gotta wait till the other guys go home, then we’ll bring her in the back door and have her sit in here where there aren’t any cameras. I’ll smuggle a pair of bolt cutters out and take care of it fast. But we can’t do it while they’re still here. So give me the money and I’ll give you some work to do until they leave, and then we’ll bring her in.”

  “If you can’t help her right away, I should go out there and let her know,” Bensin protested. “She’ll be scared.”

  “Didn’t you tell her to stay put or anything?”

  “Yeah, but —”

  “Then it’ll be fine. You keep going in and out, the guys’ll get suspicious.” He held out his hand. “Give me the cash.”

  Bensin stuck a hand in one pocket and hesitated again. It didn’t feel right to be handing over so much money without any guarantee that he would get what he was paying for. What if Wenn cheated him?

  Sensing his reluctance, the Nelirian rolled his eyes. “Look, kid, I’m not asking you to pay me and walk away. You’re going to be right back here cleaning the room on the other side of this wall. You’re not leaving the place until your sister’s collar is off, so don’t worry. But it’s cash in advance, and I have to know that you’ve really got the right amount; so if you want my help, pay up.”

  Bensin pulled out the envelope and the loose cash from his pockets. Reluctantly, he counted out two thousand imps — almost all the money in there — into the man’s grimy hand. Wenn’s grin grew wider with every note, and he counted them again himself when Bensin had finished. “Awesome. Okay, get in here and start work, and I’ll come let you know when it’s time to call the kid.” The money vanished deep into a pocket of his overalls, and he pulled open a nearby door and gestured for Bensin to enter.

  The room was apparently a sort of living room for the workers here. A stained gray couch stood against the wall across from two mismatched chairs and a coffee table with a chip out of one corner. Along the opposite wall was a counter with a sink, a microwave, and a mini fridge. Half-empty coffee mugs and other dirty dishes sat on the counter and the table.

  But it was less filthy here than out in the work area, and it was certainly nowhere near as bad as the bathroom had been. Brandishing the spray bottle and a rag, Bensin approached the sink and took a cautious peek. There was a pronounced ring around the drain, and crumbs and multicolored stains covered the counter, but it could have been a lot worse. He wet the rag at the faucet and started in.

  Half an hour later, the sink and counter were spotless, the dishes washed, the coffee table wiped down, and the floor swept. Bensin went back to the door and listened, but all he heard was the incessant music. Still not yet time, apparently. I hope Ellie isn’t getting worried.

  He scrubbed the inside of the microwave, which turned out to be worse than the counter, and wiped off the grime smeared on the outside of the fridge. He chose not to open it. He would not have been surprised to find the interior covered with mold, and even a slave had his limits.

  The clock on the microwave said 9:02 when the music abruptly stopped. The auto shop must finally be closing for the night. Any minute now, Wenn would come and tell him to fetch Ellie. She must be terribly bored out there, and probably still scared.

  But the minutes ticked by and Wenn didn’t come. Perhaps one of his coworkers was lingering nearby. I’ll be patient. It wasn’t worth the risk that someone would find out what they planned to do and put a stop to it.

  At 9:20 Bensin made up his mind to go see what was happening. He would at least stick his head out and glance around to see if Wenn was alone yet. After all, the other workers had seen him come in, so they wouldn’t be surprised to see him come out again.

  But when Bensin turned the door handle, nothing happened. He tried again, but the door was securely locked.

  That didn’t make sense. Why would Wenn lock him in? He hadn’t locked the bathroom door last time.

  Maybe this was one of those doors that locked automatically every time it closed. But no, that didn’t make sense either. It would be understandable in an office where money or valuables were kept, but why would an employees’ lounge need an automatically locking door? And anyway, it had been unlocked when Wenn first let him in.

  He locked me in on purpose. But why? To keep him from coming out too soon, obviously. Perhaps it was just a precaution in case Bensin were to walk out into the front room when a customer was there. Didn’t Wenn trust him to stay put until he was called?

  But there was no reason he shouldn’t have unlocked it by now. Bensin rattled the knob again and then knocked, but there was no response. He waited a moment and then knocked more loudly. “Wenn!” he called. “Are you out there?”

  Still nothing. Bensin’s heart was starting to pound. Something was wrong; he wasn’t quite sure what, but definitely something. He had to get out of here. “Hey! Somebody! Let me out!” he yelled as loudly as he could, pounding on the door.

  But nobody came. There was no indication that anyone was even around. What was going on? Had they all left? Was Ellie all right? Had Wenn simply disappeared with the money, or had he —

  Bensin cut the thought short, unwilling to think of other possibilities. He looked around the room for something to bash the door in with. The coffee table! In a rush of adrenaline, he hefted it in both arms and ran at the door, brandishing it like a battering ram.

  It impacted with a splintering crash and he stumbled sideways off balance, dropping the table on his foot. Grabbing his toes in one hand, he hopped in a circle, yelling in pain and frustration. The door stood intact, but the table now featured another chip, and one leg had snapped off.

  There has to be a way out. Bensin forced himself to stand still and think. The room had no windows and no other doors, and this one was apparently too sturdy to easily break through.

  Oh. “Stupid, stupid, stupid!” he scolded himself. Spinning around, he made a quick survey of the room — but no. He had just cleaned off every surface and swept the floor. He would know if there were paperclips anywhere in here.

  But there must be something else I can use. He darted around the room, searching for inspiration. But nothing presented itself as a likely lock-picking device. What can I do? How can I get out of here? There had to be a way.

  Abruptly, Bensin remembered something else Ricky had once taught him about how to open certain kinds of locked doors. The simple kind, where people didn’t expect security to be much of an issue. He bent to peer at the handle and lock. Maybe it will work. I just need something flat. He ran back to the sink. A knife! Sure enough, there was a thin butter knife in the rack with the clean dishes. He slid the knife’s blade into the crack between the door and the doorframe. Jiggling it around to find the right position, it took him four tries to push the tongue of the lock in. But finally he was able to force it back into the lock mechanism, and he breathed a sigh of relief when the
door swung open at his push.

  The hallway beyond was dark and empty. He hurried down it and was about to throw open the door into the front room, but then he remembered the cameras. Did they stay on after closing hours? Probably, otherwise it would be too easy to come in at night and use those bolt cutters for illegal activity.

  But Wenn had mentioned a back entrance. Bensin found a switch and flipped the hallway light on, then turned back the other way. Another locked door stood across from the one he had come out of, and beyond that, the bathroom he had cleaned last time. But a larger door waited at the end of the hall, and it did look as though it might be an exit. It was locked with a deadbolt, but that was easy to open from the inside.

  Cool night air hit him the moment he swung the door open. He stood facing a small, empty parking lot, probably intended for employee parking or customers’ vehicles that needed a few days’ work. Dashing outside, Bensin saw a driveway leading out to the street on his left. To the right was the other end of the narrow side yard where he had left his sister.

  “Ellie!” He sprinted around the corner, tripped over a large metal spring, and sprawled full length on the ground, upsetting a pile of hubcaps that clattered all around him. “Ellie, are you still here?” He scrambled to his feet, disentangling one of them from the spring with difficulty. “Ellie?”

  It was dim back here, the scrap piles lit only by a distant streetlight. He couldn’t see much, but the tower of tires was just ahead. Perhaps Ellie had fallen asleep beside it.

  But that was silly. She wouldn’t have slept through the racket he had just made. Bensin felt around at the base of the tower, but she wasn’t there. His panic growing, he crawled around every inch of the yard, feeling in every dark corner, barely noticing as he cut his knees and the palms of his hands on sharp scraps of metal. “Ellie. Ellie! ELLIE!” He called her name again and again, his breath coming faster, his heart pounding the way it only did after a really hard workout. He couldn’t remember ever having been this scared before. Where was his sister? What had happened to her? What might be happening to her right now?

  He ran back out to the parking lot, tripping on the same spring and getting both feet tangled up in it this time. His hands were shaking so that he could hardly free himself.

  “Ellie!” He dashed across the lot, back and forth, checking every shadow. “Ellie, where are you?” Not back here, that was for sure. Down the driveway to the street, zigzagging back and forth, he searched frantically for any clue. Nothing.

  What do I do? What do I do? What do I do? Bensin was hyperventilating. He knew it, he knew that panic would turn him blind and deaf and kill his chances of success, just like in a match, but he couldn’t calm down. His sister was gone! His little sister, whom he had promised Mom he would protect. His sister, so small and innocent and helpless.

  Free people had options at times like this. But what aid could slaves count on? None, unless their owner was sympathetic and willing to help them. But that was obviously not an option for Bensin, who had just betrayed, deceived, and robbed his owner. The City Watch would help free people whose sisters had been kidnapped, but a missing slave would only count as theft of property, much less urgent. Besides, any Watch officers he came in contact with tonight would probably just lash him for attempting to help her escape and then send him back home.

  No, Bensin had nowhere to turn for help. And that was the most unfair part of the whole unfair system.

  Just across the street was a small convenience store. Perhaps someone there had seen what happened. Bensin ran over and pushed through the door.

  “Excuse me, sir,” he panted to the man at the counter. “Did you see anyone leave the car repair place across the street?” He pointed through the window.

  The man glanced up from the magazine he was reading. “What, just now?”

  “No, sir, earlier. Like maybe around nine o’clock.”

  “I don’t know. I wasn’t paying attention. Cars come and go all the time.”

  “You didn’t — you know —” He could hardly bring himself to say it. “Hear anyone scream, or anything?”

  The man chuckled. “That’s not that unusual in this part of town. But I don’t remember hearing anything this evening. Wenn’s End keeps their music real loud, though. It would probably drown out a lot of stuff.”

  Not encouraged, Bensin hurried back out, looking for someone else to ask. Next door was a fast-food restaurant with a strong fried smell wafting through its open doors. There was seating both indoors and outdoors, and four teenagers were sitting at a table outside. They were laughing and talking loudly as they shared a tray of junk food that Bensin knew Coach Steene wouldn’t let him touch with a ten-foot pole. Judging by the pile of empty food packaging around them, they had probably been here awhile.

  It was always awkward starting a conversation with free people his own age, but Bensin didn’t care now. He hurried right up to them and interrupted without hesitation. “Excuse me. Did any of you notice anyone leaving the car place across the street at around nine o’clock?”

  The conversation stopped and they all turned to stare at him. “What are you bothering us for, Collar?” growled one of the boys.

  “Oh, for the emperor’s sake, don’t be so rude,” one of the girls scolded him.

  “Besides, he’s cute,” the other girl added. “Look at his muscles!” She nudged the boy next to her. “If you’d work out more often, Saul, that’s how you’d look.”

  An “ooh” went up from the other two, and Saul’s face flushed angrily.

  “Hey, what’s your name?” the girl inquired of Bensin, ignoring her friends. She was Skeyvian, like Jayce and the Shigo family, and her teeth gleamed pearly white against chocolate-colored skin as she smiled at him.

  Bensin hesitated. Perhaps he should find someone else to ask. One of Ricky’s rules sprang to mind: Don’t even look at a free girl if her dad or boyfriend is with her, especially if she’s pretty. The two boys here could be trouble.

  But Ellie is probably already in trouble. Nothing else mattered now.

  “My name’s Bensin,” he told the girl. “Please, did you see anyone come out of Wenn’s End there earlier?”

  The boy she had snubbed jumped to his feet, obviously trying to reclaim his wounded pride. “Don’t you dare talk to her. Get lost!”

  “A couple cars left there awhile ago,” the first girl put in. “One left just after they turned off their lights and music, and the other came out a few minutes later.”

  “Did you see which way they went?”

  “Yeah, they both passed us and went that way.” She pointed to her right.

  “I said, get lost!” Saul pushed his way around the table and shoved his face right into Bensin’s. “Go do whatever it is stupid lazy collars like you do on a Saturday night, and leave us alone.”

  Ordinarily, Bensin would have lowered his gaze and backed away, but everything was different tonight. Brushing the boy aside, he stepped around him and asked the others, “Did you notice anything else, like how many people were in the cars? Did you see a little girl?”

  The boy shoved him, hard. “How many times do I have to tell you? Stay away from me and my friends.”

  Bensin staggered backward and then turned on him, fear for Ellie filling him with a reckless defiance he would never have dared allow himself otherwise. “Leave me alone!” he bellowed in the boy’s face. “I have to find my sister, and I don’t have time to take any beefbarf from you. So get out of my way and let me find out what I need to!”

  He turned back to the group for an answer, but they were staring from him to Saul in openmouthed shock. Probably none of them had ever heard a slave speak to a free person that way before. Bensin himself could hardly believe what he had just done.

  Saul wasn’t going to stand for it. Talking done, he swung his fist. Bensin jumped out of the way. The boy swung again, and Bensin knocked his blow aside with his left arm the way he would have deflected a cavvarach.

  Out
of the corner of his eye he saw the other three jump to their feet. Someone yelled, “Fight!”

  Bensin wasn’t interested in fighting, but he needed information, and this boy was in his way. He had never really done any fist fighting, and the free boy easily blocked his first attempt at a blow, getting in one of his own to Bensin’s jaw this time. Saul followed up with a punch to the gut that sent Bensin reeling. Don’t ever strike a free person was so firmly ingrained in him — had been for his whole life — that it was hard to bring himself to fight back properly. If they had both been barefoot and holding cavvarachs, everything would have been different, but —

  Do it for Ellie!

  That was all the motivation Bensin needed, and there was one kind of fighting he was good at. Shifting his weight, he swung his right foot around with all his strength in a roundhouse kick, aiming higher than he would have to knock a cavvarach aside.

  His foot struck Saul on the shoulder and the other boy toppled to the ground. One of the girls screamed, and Bensin suddenly realized the second boy was coming to his friend’s defense, lunging at him from the left. He ducked, dodged, and rolled, coming up kicking. He was still instinctively holding his left arm out as though it wore a shil, his right fist clenched around the hilt of an imaginary cavvarach. His front kick struck the second boy in the thigh, and then Saul was back on his feet and Bensin had to dodge another blow.

  He had never practiced battling two opponents at once, in cavvara shil or otherwise. With a cavvarach in his hand, he was pretty sure he could still have gotten the better of them both, but they were obviously used to fighting with their fists, and he wasn’t. Blows slammed into him, and he twisted and ducked, trying to protect his face and vital organs, getting in kicks wherever he could.

  One of the boys grabbed his arms from behind, and Bensin whirled to break free, twisting one leg around his attacker’s. Snagging the boy’s ankle, he flung himself backward on top of him. With a yell of pain, the hands loosened their grip. He rolled free, but a crowd had begun to gather, and more hands were reaching out to grab him.