Abu Ali fired, and they were off.
It was a glorious race, the two brothers pushing each other well. True to form, Ali took the early lead for the first quarter mile or so, but Kai kept his focus, and finally Ali had to stop laughing and bear down.
They leapt fences and dashed through puddles, speeding their way to the agreed-upon halfway mark, where they made the turn neck and neck.
The crowd roared its approval, and Abu Ali's gambling blood was aboil. This was a race the Prophet himself might have enjoyed! Even little Babatunde, for all his hatred of horses, applauded as the two brothers gouged grassy clods from the pasture in their efforts.
Malik stood close by Ali. At such moments, moments of intensity, the darkness within his younger brother seemed to retreat, and Abu Ali was happy to share this time and place. "Kai has never ridden so well," said the Wakil, "but I think Ali will carry the day."
"I disagree," Malik said. "And would be willing to increase the stakes."
"Indeed? How high?"
Malik seemed to consider. "You know that stallion, Nightwing, that you tried to buy from me last year?"
Abu Ali grinned, delighted. Nightwing was Malik's most prized stud animal, worth a small fortune. "And against what?"
Malik shrugged. "Against, let us say, any two slaves."
A fine wager! And one that displayed confidence on Malik's part. Then again, his younger brother had never lacked for nerve.
"Done," he said, and as the crowd roared, they shook hands. For just an instant then Abu Ali saw something glitter in Malik's eyes, felt a bit of unaccustomed moistness in the contact of one hard, flat palm against another, and wondered if he had made a mistake.
Kai bent to his task, concentrating until his body seemed to disappear, and there was only Djinna. The two of them, master and magnificent black beast, labored as one. He allowed himself to think of the way Sophia had held him. For the first time the memory caused no pain, but rather seemed to flow into pure energy. He felt as if he were sprinting, running at top speed, as if he and Djinna were a single creature with four legs and two heads.
Glancing to his side, Kai saw that he was slowly, steadily pulling ahead of Ali. Saw the strain on his brother's face, the muscles in cheeks and jaw straining as he realized that his younger brother was, for the first time, gaining ground.
Kai's heart soared, and he pierced the fiery veil of exhaustion, bore down fiercely, Djinna thundering against the reins—
And won.
The crowd erupted into cheers. Kai himself was absolutely ecstatic. "Huzzahl" he cried, and raised his fists to the sky.
The servants hoisted him on their shoulders, especially Olaf. "Thank you, master—ye just earned me a week of water!"
Kai laughed until he reeled, giddy with victory.
"Well done, young Kai," Malik said.
"Uncle!" Kai crowed. "It worked!"
"What worked?" Ali said suspiciously.
Malik put his finger to his lips. Our secret.
Ali was insistent. "What worked?"
Kai just grinned at his brother mysteriously.
"Well, Kai," Abu Ali said. "You cost me a beautiful horse, but I'm proud. You, though, boy—"
He glared at his eldest son, and Ali squinted back, and then they both laughed.
"You bet him a horse?" Ali asked.
"No, he bet me."
"And your end?" Kai asked.
Abu Ali shrugged. "His pick of the slaves. A fair trade, I thought."
Kai was thoughtful. Slaves were traded all the time, especially between neighboring estates, where an hour or two of travel might reunite families. Why, then, did he feel a touch of alarm?
"Cormac!" Abu Ali said to the bondsman. "Fetch Oko."
"At once, sir," Cormac replied, and dashed off. Within three minutes he had fetched the overseer. Abu Ali explained his purpose, Oko bowed, and five minutes later the denizens of Ghost Town were lining up by the fence.
At his command, the nearby bondsmen fell into line. Broad-backed men, women hardened by scrubbing and lifting. Dressed in rags and tags, if cleaned up some of them might have been quite handsome in their sunburnt, pointy-nosed, limp-haired fashion. Malik scanned them, seeming to inspect each carefully. Kai grew more quiet and still, and thoughtful.
Malik had scanned twenty, and seemed unsatisfied. Abu Ali was sympathetic. "Nothing that you like? We could ride out to the quarry."
"No," Malik said. "I see what I want."
His gaze went out beyond the servants to the great house. Two white women were carrying water out of the house, pouring it on the ground. The more graceful of them was Sophia.
Malik's eyes widened with pleasure.
Abu Ali shook his head. "Oh, Malik—she has just borne child. Certainly one of the other girls . . ."
"That one." His voice was dead certain. There was no room for discussion.
The tingle of alarm at the back of Kai's neck grew more urgent. He fought to keep his voice neutral. "She is a good worker. So you will take her and her husband?"
"No, I don't think I will. I take the infant as my second choice."
Abu Ali straightened. "The baby? But I would think the child automatically accompanies its mother. I would not consider the infant a separate person."
Malik combed his beard with his fingers. "I could not cheat my own brother in such a way. The babe will give many more years of service than the buck."
"Father," Kai said. "Couldn't we give Aidan to Malik as a gift?"
Abu Ali stroked his beard. "I suppose . . ."
"There is no need," Malik said. "I don't require him."
At last, Abu Ali's voice softened. "Just the girl?"
Malik regarded his brother blandly. "Fatima will soon need a wet nurse."
Abu Ali sighed. "Of course. Well"—he smacked his palms together— "a wager is a wager."
"Excellent!" Malik replied. "My wagon will fetch her in the morning."
The blood rushed in Kai's head as he understood the implications. "Uncle," he said. "Wait. Isn't there another selection . . . ?"
Malik's eyes were flat and cold. "You waste your breath, nephew. I know my mind."
As Malik's hand squeezed his shoulder, Kai realized for the first time that he did, indeed, know what his uncle wanted. And that he had allowed himself to be used.
“I know how you feel, Kai, but a wager is a wager. Perhaps if she were still in your bed I might make a case. But you gave her up, and she is now merely another household asset. I cannot break my word, Kai, and Malik will not change his mind. I know him."
"But it's wrong!"
The Wakil pinched the bridge of his nose. "Yes, perhaps it is wrong," he said quietly. "I have tried to change many things I think are wrong. There is only so much a man can do."
"But you are the Wakil!"
"Yes," said Abu Ali. "I am the Wakil. And because of that, I have great power in the Senate. But if I were to speak out against the institution that supports our entire way of life, that provides the comforts you have enjoyed all your life, I would lose that power. Already, men whisper that I am too lenient with my servants. And more: some suggest that I lack respect for the Ulema, which has formally sanctioned slavery."
Kai bristled. "How dare they criticize you! On what grounds?"
A trace of a smile softened the Wakil's mouth. "Oh, don't look so outraged. Do you think I don't know what Babatunde does in his mosque? That my own son has chosen the Way of Sufism?"
Kai was dumbstruck. "Father, I . . ."
The Wakil waved his hand dismissively. "Some say Sufis are traitors. That is a political judgment, motivated by men who seek worldly power, or those who distrust the wisdom of their own hearts."
"I don't understand, Father."
"Traditional Islam is a religion of rules. If you perform them perfectly, you will join Allah in Paradise. Sufism is esoteric Islam, a path to direct knowledge. A path of heart, of freedom."
Kai caught his breath. "Are you . . . a Sufi?"
<
br /> His father smiled. "No. The Ulema is as much political as spiritual, and if it were ever suspected that I was a Sufi, they would do all in their power to destroy me. Traditional, hierarchical religions have little tolerance for those who seek direct union with the divine."
Kai stood very still, striving to digest this new information. If he interpreted his father's words correctly, he disapproved of some aspects of slavery, but could not speak out or act against them. Approved of his son's spiritual choice, but could not join him on his path. This was the world of politics? A plague upon it!
"So there you have it, Kai. I understand your disapproval. I am proud that my son has such a heart. But legally she is now Malik's property. I regret the wager, Kai, but there is nothing to be done now."
His last court of appeal exhausted, Kai bowed with his hand over his heart and left his father's study.
Sophia and Aidan met Kai in the hall outside the Wakil's room. Their faces were heartbreakingly hopeful, expectant.
Kai could barely meet their eyes. "There is nothing I can do," he said. I am sorry.
Sophia's hands gripped his arm, her cheeks flushed. By some miracle she had so far restrained tears, and that very strength shamed him. "Kai, please. There must be something."
Kai tried to put the best possible face on it, loathing the lie in his voice. "Malik is only two hours away. You will be able to visit once a week on al-ahad, certainly."
It was all Aidan could do not to explode. "This is my wife!" he said. "I have seen the way he looks at her!"
Warring emotions flooded through Kai: haunted anticipation, then regret. Powerless to stop the inevitable, he straightened his shoulders and took refuge in indignation. "Aidan. You forget your place. There is nothing I can do. I suggest you resign yourself to that truth, however harsh it may seem."
Kai and Aidan stared at each other. Aidan's gaze was absolutely corrosive, chewing away at something that, even now, had remained between them. A ghost of past friendship, perhaps. The bonds of a childish blood ritual performed on a moonless night, long ago. Something frail and precious. Gone.
Kai tried to be comforting. "Besides, there is nothing to fear. Malik is very happily married, and his contract with Fatima has never included a seraglio. He would not take advantage. Excuse me."
And fearing that he had just told a terrible lie, Kai left them to their preparations, and their despair.
Chapter Forty-six
The flickering candles cast frantic shadows across the wall of their single room. Fighting to avoid sheer paralytic fear, Aidan and Sophia threw food and clothes into a canvas bag. At first Sophia seemed determined to cram in everything they owned. Then Aidan caught her trembling wrists and forced her to gaze into his eyes.
"Lightly, Sophia," he said. "Take only what we must. We must move quickly."
She froze, looking at him with haunted eyes. "Are you sure?" she asked. "Has anyone ever made it away?"
"A few, I think. At least—their bodies were never brought back. I think they made it."
"Brian didn't."
He paused for a moment, looking deep into his woman's eyes. She was afraid, but she would take her chances with him, this he knew. "We will," he said. "You, and I, and Mahon will make it."
Instead of calming her, as he had hoped, her shaking grew more pitiful. "We have to," she said, her speech breathy and panicked. "I can't go there. I see how Malik looks at me. I was . . . trained to lock my feelings away, Aidan. Trained to use my body to get what I wanted, and never let anything touch me." She tore her hands out of his grip, and sank her fingers into his wrists. "I can't do that again. Not after you. After us, and Mahon. I can't"
"You won't," he promised.
Three other slaves appeared in the doorway. Topper, a short, stocky quarryman thirty years Aidan's senior, and the newly married Molly and her husband, Ches. Aidan sometimes suspected that the ever-agreeable Molly had remained unmarried hoping to lure him into a promise. But after he wed Sophia she had yielded to the entreaties of Ches, a square-faced, stolid field hand.
Topper was white-haired, with few teeth left in his mouth. His body was as hard as the rocks he had spent his life smashing. "Are you for it, Aidan?"
"On my life."
"Then I'm with you," Topper said, and held out his flat, hard hand.
"Us too," Molly said. Her eyes sparkled with fear and excitement. "Always trusted ye, Aidan. Knew ye'd make a move one day."
"I don't want to encourage you," Aidan said. "I don't know what's out there. I have a decent map from Brian, but even he tried to talk me out of it."-
"If there is any chance at all," Molly said, "we're taking it. What's the plan?"
"Cut through the marsh north, and then travel by night. Follow the waterways to the mountains. I've heard tell there are folks in the Gupta settlement who might give us shelter, help us get to Vineland."
Molly started. "But the Northmen stole ye from yer home!"
He nodded. "True. But they need workers and fighters like everyone else. A man might make a new life up there."
The five slaves were silent, each lost in his own thoughts. Finally, Sophia stepped into the gap. "All right, then. If any of us make it, all of us make it."
"I reckon," Ches said. And the five of them clasped hands, hard.
Hidden in Ghost Town's deepest shadows, Aidan watched the mansion. He was flattened against the wall of one of the outlying houses, near the fence. The front gate was unlocked, but more likely to be watched. He would slip out through the north side fence, away from the manse.
From his position, he could see the balcony, even glimpsed Kai as he gazed out across his father's estate. He would have recognized Kai's slender outline at twice the distance. Could Kai see him? He wasn't certain. And if he did, and he realized what his former friend was about to do, how would he react? It would be suicide to think him sympathetic.
And what would he do if Kai stood between Aidan and his family's chance for freedom?
Aidan couldn't allow his mind to travel in that direction. There was no life, no love there, and no hope.
He waited until Kai turned away, then motioned for the others to follow him. Sophia carried the baby in her stomach sling. If Mahon became too heavy, they could swiftly shift the burden to Aidan, but there was a very real chance that the sleeping child would awaken and cry. In that terrible instance, only a mother's breast might purchase silence.
They fled across the shadows into the dark of the forest beyond.
There was only a minute when someone watching from the house might have sighted them, and then they were in the grove. It was wreathed with fog that made it seem mythic, eternal, almost like a mosque.
They stopped and briefly knelt in prayer. Topper was the only one to find words. "Goddess," he said, "protect us this night. Lead us to open country."
Nervously, Aidan watched the forest behind them. "The Goddess helps those who help themselves. Come."
Kai lay half-asleep in his bed, plagued with wet, ugly dreams. Repeatedly, he bobbed up close to the edge of waking, only to submerge again into the arms of nightmare.
Aidan. Sophia. Mahon. Uncle Malik. The terrible wager.
A crazy quilt of fear and guilt and half-formed suspicion warred in his mind, clawed at his rest. He sat up abruptly, awakened by a distant barking sound, and he stared out through his open window into the night beyond.
Would they run? And if so, would they succeed? He knew Aidan might well risk the danger of the swamps. Did that barking mean that the thoths were out in the fog?
If they were, Allah preserve Aidan and Sophia. If they weren't. . . did he have an obligation to look, to see, to share his suspicions about Aidan's decision? His mind buzzed, plagued him, gave no answers.
And finally, he rolled back over and gave himself up to the demons waiting in his dreams.
The marshes of southeast New Djibouti were crowded with twisted black trees, dank with hanging moss, alive with snakes and owls. Half of the marsh was
natural, half expanded a hundred years before by the damming of natural and artificial waterways. The marsh stretched for hundreds of square miles, and it was said that no man knew their depths.
'This is an evil place," Sophia said.
Aidan shook his head, holding his shielded lantern high enough to push the fog back a bit. "There were marshes in my homeland. Dangerous, yes. Evil, no." He paused, and looked up to find the moon. "This way."
"We've been walking for three hours," Molly said. "Can't we rest?"
"All right," Aidan said. There was no use in pushing too hard. Exhaustion would cloud their judgment. 'Ten minutes, then we go on."
They sat heavily on damp stumps and rocks. Sophia began to nurse her child.
Aidan watched. Pride and fear warred within him. "Mahon hasn't made a sound."
"He's strong," she said, "like his father."
"Sophia . . ." Aidan said. "You didn't have to come. Kai is right: Malik is a righteous man. Life might have been good."
She looked at him with quiet dignity. "You are my heart and my home." Her upturned face shone in the moonlight. Very gently, he bent to her, and they kissed.
Ches was still jumpy. "I think I heard something."
"What?" Sophia asked.
"I'm not sure. Just a sound."
Aidan narrowed his eyes, trying to see something, anything, through the trees and the mist and the night. Anything could be hiding out there, he thought. He could see nothing, but the hair on the back of his neck was raising up. He gripped his staff hard enough to hurt his own fingers.
"Move. Hurry."
No one argued. All were suddenly aware of the need to move more quickly. They picked their way through the forest, trying to set their feet carefully on solid ground. The fear they felt was swelling up from deeper and deeper wells within them, diluting their resolve.
They were running now, and the ground turned their efforts into a nightmare. Within another mile, Molly was gasping for breath. Sophia stumbled.
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