"We keep good records," Aram said. "They include a list of members in Tarileth. You should be able to find something on her. What was her name?"
"Dalina. She never told me her surname."
"Did she have red hair like yours?"
"Yes," Rella said, not sure she wanted to hear what he'd say next.
"I think I knew her, then, and you might not care for her background."
"Was she Firelord Atarin's sister?" Rella asked. She had a bad feeling she knew the answer already.
"Yes, she was," Aram said. "Which means you could very well be a Firelord yourself." He frowned. "How many colors can you weave?"
"All of them, though there are some weaves I struggle with." Rella leaned forward in her stone chair. "Is there something bad about being a potential Firelord?"
"Unfortunately, yes," Aram said. "Firelord Atarin passed a decree a few years ago, stating that all potential Firelords must be taken to his palace in Haladel. You'll need to keep your identity a secret. I imagine he'd be especially interested in a niece of his."
Kae cleared her throat. "We lost a bandit to this decree a few years back. Talin didn't want to go, but he had no choice."
"Was my mother a Firelord?" Rella asked, ignoring Kae's comment.
"Yes, she was," Aram said, "but she rebelled against Atarin. Things didn't end well between them. That's why she had to flee to Tarileth. He would have killed her."
"Then I really don't want to go to his palace," Rella said.
"I can't imagine you would," Aram said. "But don't worry. I'll protect your secret."
Rella wanted to trust Aram, but she'd just met the man. In her life, she'd found so little reason to trust anyone.
"Thank you," she said, stomach churning.
Chapter 13: The Plantation
Kadin and Helvin followed Marell toward the stone cabin where they'd be staying. Faina went with another overseer, who led her to the cabin where the women stayed separate from the men. Kadin's chest felt tight as he watched her go. How much would he see her?
"Do the men and women work together?" he asked Marell.
"Not too much. You'll do the more physically intensive tasks. They're more likely to get housework. You might see them from time to time, but probably not as much as you'd like." He smiled. "I gather you're already missing her."
"Is it that obvious?"
"Well, you'll be allowed to see her and the other women a little bit. You don't work all day. When you have your time off, you're free to visit." Marell narrowed his eyes. "Just don't get yourself in trouble. And don't get another slave pregnant."
Rows and rows of crops stretched through the stone-walled plantation, and there were more Sunlamps than Kadin had ever seen. As they passed each one, he worried he'd make them go out. Marell had given him more to think about. Was Kadin a Suncaster? It seemed impossible on first thought, but the evidence said otherwise.
Still, he shouldn't tell Marell about feeling the sun.
To the left, Andric's stone manor loomed. It was larger than any home Kadin had ever seen, and had awnings made of wood. A rare luxury.
Kadin felt a stab of hatred and jealousy. Why did Sunweavers deserve to live like that because of an accident of birth? Did Aralea favor them for some reason? It didn't seem right. A lot of bad people were Sunweavers, and a lot of good people were Lightless.
Marell pointed at the manor. "You probably won't work there at all."
Kadin remembered the way Andric had looked at Faina. Surely he'd want her to work in the house, and what would happen then?
After they passed many rows of crops—wheat, beans, potatoes, and others Kadin couldn't recognize, all helped along by Sunlamps of varying intensity—they reached a small cluster of stone cabins close to the giant stone walls that made the plantation feel like a prison. There were four cabins in all, and Marell led Kadin and Helvin into one.
On the way, they'd passed slaves busy at work under the watchful eyes of Suncaster overseers. No one had looked up, though there was quiet chatter amongst the slaves.
The cabin itself was empty, but there were beds for twelve men. Marell pointed out two beds in the back corner. "These are yours. The rest of your cabin mates are out working right now, and you'll be joining them shortly."
Marell went on to show Kadin the meager facilities the slaves had: where they'd eat, where they'd do their necessities, how they could ask overseers for certain supplies. Then he led them back out into the fields.
He directed Kadin to one group of workers and Helvin to another. The group Kadin joined was busy inspecting some corn crops to make sure none of the plants had withered or succumbed to insects. Kadin actually felt eager to join this work. It was little different from the kind of thing he'd done his whole life, but now he didn't have his father to worry about.
The men in the group were of mixed ages. The two youngest were a year or two older than Kadin, while the other two looked about Helvin's age.
"I guess you're new here," said one of the young slaves.
Kadin's mouth felt dry. "Kadin. My father sold me into this."
"Mine too," said the young man. "I'm Aren. I was the youngest of seven kids. My family couldn't afford all of us. They felt bad about it, but they had to do it." He shrugged. "It's really not so bad a life. As long as you work hard, you'll avoid beatings for the most part."
Kadin started inspecting the closest cornstalk. "I'm used to beatings. Those were my father's favorite method of communicating with me."
Aren chuckled without humor. "Sounds like a nice man."
"Don't know who my father is," said the other boy Kadin's age. "I'm Walin. Grew up on the streets in Illindel. Slavery ain't so bad compared to that."
Kadin's gaze left the cornstalk. "Did you know a girl named Faina by chance?"
"We used to be part of the same street gang," Walin said. "How do you know her?"
"Our owner bought her at the same time he bought me."
"She got caught?" Walin said. "Never expected that."
"I'm guessing she was a very good thief," Kadin said.
"Not very good. The best. Almost a legend."
Kadin didn't know what to think of that. Faina hadn't struck him that way. She'd looked more like a simple victim of bad circumstances. If she was so good, how did she get caught?
The two older men working with them introduced themselves, but didn't tell Kadin much. They seemed more interested in working silently, reminding Kadin of Helvin. Maybe slavery changed a person after a while. Would it change him?
His chest felt tight. How could he survive here so long? Yes, it was no different from working on the family farm, but he still felt trapped.
He turned to Aren and Walin. "How long have you two been here?"
"A year and a half," Aren said. "It feels like a lot longer."
"A few months for me," Walin said. "So far, time's flown by. I've never known what it's like to know where my next meal is coming from. We don't eat like Sunweavers—that's for sure—but they feed us well enough. A well-fed slave is a productive slave."
"Enough talking!" Marell shouted, stomping toward them. "This is a warning. Don't make me whip you. Get to work."
"Sorry," Kadin mumbled, turning back to the corn.
"Don't apologize," Marell said. "Just get to work."
"We're lucky it's Marell watching us," Walin said. "A lot of the other overseers whip first and warn later. Marell's one of the better ones."
Kadin kept his attention on his work. His father had never whipped him, and it wasn't an experience he wanted to endure for the first time. Walin explained some of the finer points of what they were doing, and Kadin caught on quicker than he'd expected. He even found a strange sense of pride in doing this. He'd love to prove his father wrong, prove he wasn't useless.
At the end of the day, he felt a little sore. He and the rest of the slaves returned to their stone cabins. Aren and Walin shared Kadin's cabin and ate with him. Kadin looked across the room and saw that He
lvin was eating alone. He thought about calling the man over, but Helvin didn't look in a mood to talk to anyone. When did he ever?
Aren pointed him out. "How'd he end up as a slave?'
"A Suncaster tried to rape his wife," Kadin said. "He killed the man."
"Lucky he didn't face the headsman's axe," Walin said. "Really kind of stupid when you think about it. We're Lightless. They can do whatever they want to us."
Kadin gave him a sharp look. "So you'd let someone you love get raped?"
"I don't know. I've never been in the situation. I'm just saying it's not very smart."
'It's right, though," Kadin said. "You have to defend those who can't defend themselves." He thought of the many beatings he'd suffered at his father's hands, of his family all standing by and watching it—Tyrine included. No one should have to endure what he'd endured. Even the most unimportant person needed someone to protect them.
"Maybe," Walin said. "I doubt I'll ever have to make that choice."
People have to make that choice every day, Kadin thought, and most of them make the wrong choice. He vowed he would do the right thing in that situation. But would he?
After dinner, Kadin had nothing to do. Most of the slaves talked amongst themselves, saying little of importance. Bored, Kadin wandered out of the cabin and across the fields. The sun had set, but the plantation's Sunlamps made his surroundings as bright as day.
Kadin followed a narrow path between rows of crops until he found the one women's cabin. Not enough female slaves for more than one, he figured.
He approached the stone door hesitantly and knocked.
"Who's there?" called out an older woman.
"Another slave," Kadin said. "Can I talk to Faina, the new slave?"
"I'll be out soon," Faina said from deep within the cabin. Moments later, the door came open, and she stepped out. To his surprise, she hugged him.
"Why'd you do that?" Kadin asked.
A tear trickled down her face. "I'm worried. I think my worst fears are going to come true. Andric chose me as a house slave, his personal servant, in fact. I don't want to be anywhere near that man. He scares me."
Kadin didn't know what to say. "I-I'm sorry. Has he done anything?"
"Not yet, but I know he wants to." She wiped away a tear. "You want to go for a walk around the plantation?"
"Oh, um, yes, that sounds nice."
"You're cute when you're nervous," she said.
Kadin's face grew warm, and he couldn't think of anything to say as they started walking between the crop rows. She hung close to him, as though she were afraid Andric might come out and do something to her right now. Was that so paranoid a fear?
"I met another boy who knew you," Kadin said. "Walin. You remember him?"
She looked away. "Yes. What did he tell you?"
"He said you were the greatest thief in Illindel, a legend. I know you've stolen, but I didn't expect that. How does the city's best thief get caught over a little food?"
"Oh, I wasn't that good," she said, blushing. "People like Walin want to make legends out of people who aren't really legends. It gives them something to aspire to." She turned away. "I was just like anyone else on the streets. I struggled. I made mistakes. I ended up here. If I was truly a legend, would I be here now?"
Kadin had the impression that she was hiding something. She had been the best, but she wasn't anymore. What had changed? He wanted to ask her but lacked the courage.
They walked in silence for a while. Despite the chill in the air, Kadin was sweating. He'd never seen so many Sunlamps in one place. The slaves could work long into the night if necessary. No wonder the crops here grew so well.
"Is there anything I can do to help you with Andric?" Kadin asked, feeling stupid for thinking he could help her in any way. He was a simple Lightless slave. What could he do?
Her features tightened. "I don't think so. Thank you for offering, but it's better if you don't get involved. If he wants to rape me, he'll do it. I'll survive. You need to worry about yourself, Kadin."
"What does that mean?"
"Nothing," she said, looking away. What was she hiding?
They followed a straight path all the way to the stone wall surrounding the plantation. That wall stood at least fifty feet high, constructed by Sunweavers, some of whom could use their powers to manipulate stone like that. Kadin had always wondered how such things were possible.
Faina placed a hand against the wall and closed her eyes.
"Are you all right?" Kadin asked, putting a tentative hand on her shoulder.
"I-I'm fine. I'm just wondering what it must feel like to move stone like they can. Then we could escape this place."
"We'd still be runaways," Kadin said. "You heard Marell. We'd be executed."
Faina turned away from the wall. "It doesn't matter. We can't escape anyways."
In that moment, the weight of her words hit him, and he struggled to hold back tears. No, this life wasn't that bad so far, but could he handle it for all his best years?
He kept his hand firmly on her shoulder. "Then we'll have to make the best of it."
Chapter 14: The Brotherhood of Fire
Deril stood atop a wall of the Temple of Aralea, perhaps twenty feet from the ground below. He took a deep breath, wove Yellow and Blue, and leapt. His stomach lurched as he fell, but when he hit the ground, his shield held. Only a little pain shot through his legs.
Tiran stood on the ground, watching him. "You're insane, Deril."
"I have to master this ability. I know it's possible. I'm powerful enough. I should have been able to make that jump. If I'd trained in this, I might have saved my father."
"Not against a group of powerful Fireweavers that included your brother. You made a foolish decision. It's better that you broke your legs. It probably saved your life."
"Perhaps it did," Deril said as he started to climb the stairs. He was going to try the jump from a wall about ten feet higher. Shaking his head, Tiran watched him climb. Deril gave Tiran a sharp look, but said nothing. There was no guarantee those Fireweavers would have beaten Deril.
The height from the new spot was dizzying, but Deril ignored that feeling. He wove Yellow and Blue within him, then leapt. When he hit the ground, his legs complained a little.
"Are you going to keep doing this until you break your legs again?" Tiran asked.
"I'm not even close to that point yet. I know my own body and powers."
He climbed the stone stairs, ignoring Tiran's negative comments and severe expression. This time, he found a wall perhaps fifty feet in the air. If he could make this jump, he would decide that was enough for the day.
"You look like a complete fool," Tiran called out.
Perhaps I am, Deril thought, smiling. He stood on the stone railing, staring down at Tiran, who looked so small. Deril's heart fluttered. Could he do this?
Taking deep breaths, he wove Yellow and Blue within him one last time, then jumped. The air whooshed past him, exhilarating and terrifying at once. He focused on maintaining the shield. When he hit the ground, his legs and ankles complained, and he collapsed, scraping his knees against the rocky ground. Nothing was broken, though. That, at least, was a success.
"Are you done now?" Tiran asked, helping him to his feet.
"Yes, I think so. I'll have to keep working on it."
"And how often will you have occasion to jump that far?"
"You never know," Deril said. "It could prove useful."
He had engaged in this crazy practice in an effort to distract himself from his anxiety. Night was approaching. In the morning, Daine would arrive to lead them to the headquarters of the Brotherhood of Fire. Deril couldn't shake his suspicion that this was a huge mistake.
But what other choice did he have? He had to do everything he could to save his father. No matter what anyone said, Atarin might kill the Sunlord. People like Atarin were crazy. Perhaps he believed the world could survive without the Sunlord. Deril wished he could fee
l the sun like his father. That way, Deril would know if his father was still doing his duty.
Deril experienced a night of restless sleep, his mind racing as he went over everything that could go wrong.
Before he knew it, he stood before the temple gates, Tiran and Diane at his side. He and Tiran had gathered a few supplies but had left behind anything that might link them to their normal lives. Tiran had switched out of his Sun Guard uniform, wearing the same kind of clothing as Deril.
A light fur cloak. Heavy pants. Thin underclothing. It lacked the ornamentation Deril was accustomed to, but he'd never cared for all that anyways. It made him feel like he was separating himself too much from the common people. After all, the only thing that made him different was his powers. An accident of birth.
The Church said Aralea made some people Sunweavers for a reason, but now that Deril suspected Aralea might be dead, he wondered if there was any reason at all.
He looked up at the dim white sun. Had Aralea really been dead so long?
The Sun Guards opened the gate and bade farewell to Deril and Tiran. Captain Hanir had informed the guards that the two of them were on a secret mission, but hadn't given away any of the crucial details. The guards at the gate looked on with concerned frowns.
"Don't worry," Tiran said. "We'll be all right."
Deril wished he could be so sure. He couldn't help but think back to Hanir's remark about his acting ability—or lack thereof. Could he fool Fireweavers, who'd been trained from birth to be suspicious of everyone? Perhaps he'd let Tiran do most of the talking.
The gate opened, and Daine led them to a large wagon waiting outside. Deril and Tiran climbed into the back, and she followed a step behind as the guards wove Yellow and Green to close the gate. Even though Deril was outside that gate, he felt trapped when it closed. Who was he to think he could rescue his father? Yes, he was talented, but talent wasn't everything.
The wagon's driver led them down the rocky road. Deril peered off to his left, toward the cliff he'd leapt from a few days ago. He was amazed he'd mustered the courage, or perhaps the foolishness, to make that jump.
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