Ebudae

by Carroll, John H.

  Tina nodded and escorted them out, locking the door behind them. Pelya looked back at the door and then at Frath. “I’m scared for her.”

  “I’m scared for both of them, but right now I’m more concerned about your safety.” Frath rubbed his temples. “There’s nothing we can do here right now, but we can rescue your friends. Once we’re done with that, I think you should stay here with Ebudae until you’re both out of danger.”

  “That sounds like a good idea to me. I’m ready. Last one down the stairs is old.” Pelya dashed down, beating her father by two steps.

  ***

  It took three hours to reach the Western Livestock District next to the Western Slum District. There were four primary highways into Dralin, one at each compass point. Just as Dralin had enormous warehouse districts along each highway, it also had livestock districts, inn districts and other districts geared toward handling the vast amounts of people and wagon trains travelling into and through the city. There were circular highways within the city that connected the main highways. No trade passed through the Wizard District or even the old districts surrounding it.

  There were also more slum districts than could easily be counted. The biggest were named after the compass points, just because it matched the names of other districts. Frath had told his daughter more than once that city planners were lazy and didn’t feel like working for their pay.

  Pelya wasn’t allowed in slum districts or many of the other more dangerous districts. The City Guard had presence in them, but it was difficult to keep order and they always traveled in full units. One of the biggest concerns that Frath and Pelya had was that it was against regulations for a Guardmember to be away from a unit in dangerous districts and that included any slums.

  Frath stayed inside the Livestock District specifically for that reason. There were massive warehouses surrounding livestock pens as far as the eye could see. Handlers yelled and whistled at the various animals: cattle, goats, pigs, horses and other domesticated stock that bellowed and called out in frustration at being crowded inside of the thick wooden fences. The stench was overwhelming in any season and any time of the day, but the late-morning, summer sun drew the worst odors out of the ground and animals. Pelya followed her father’s example when he put a bandana over his mouth and nose. It was more common than not in livestock districts and the only people who didn’t wear them were individuals who spent their entire lives around the stench.

  Most buildings in Dralin were built at least partially out of stone. The city was inviting to all sorts of criminals including many arsonists. Buildings made out of wood tended to be set on fire, either by the arsonists, or by rivals intent on destroying whatever business, gang or individual that resided within said building. In this section of the city, only a few of the warehouses were made of stone, but most had at least a few feet of stone or brick walls with wooden planks making up the rest of it.

  The warehouse where Aphry and the others were imprisoned was obvious due to Blavoci’s yellow with black striped emblems on it and the guards standing around. Frath stopped at a cattle pen a distance away and put a foot up on one of the rails while pretending to study the livestock within. Pelya followed his example, heart thumping in excitement. “How do we get past the guards?” she asked.

  “Well, I have an idea, but I’d like to hear what you think. What would you do, kick them in the face like last time?” Frath smirked.

  Pelya blushed, but considered the question seriously. “We want to send a message to Master Thanzin, but attacking the guards and leaving them unconscious here would result in them getting robbed and possibly killed. We never want to hurt someone if it isn’t necessary.”

  “Very good. I’m proud of you, Daughter.” He smiled and put an approving hand on her shoulder.

  “Thank you, Daddy.” Pelya smiled happily before becoming serious again. She glanced behind his back at the warehouse. “It looks like all the entrances have two guards except the big, double-wagon door which has four. There’s no traffic in or out and everything is locked. I don’t think we can bluff our way in.”

  “I agree. So how do we get in without violence?”

  “The roof, a window, secret door or underground? There are no windows and I think it would be too difficult to climb up to the roof unseen. We don’t have anything that will grant us invisibility.” She tugged on her braid while pretending to look at the cows. “I may be able to buy something, but I’d have to get money and then we’d have to go to Wizard’s Mall. By the time we got back, it would be night. I don’t think we want to wait that long.” Pelya looked to see her father’s reaction.

  “No, we don’t. There’s no guarantee that we’ll be able to get in through the roof. The building looks well maintained,” Frath said without looking back. Pelya knew he had already assessed everything and she was duly impressed.

  “I seriously doubt there’s a secret door on a warehouse, so that leaves underground. There are sewers through here, but they’ll smell real bad.” Pelya grimaced. “Especially in the summer with no rain in the last couple of weeks to wash away the waste. I don’t know if it will open up into a warehouse either.”

  “The sewers don’t, but there are thousands of access tunnels around the sewers and parts of the ruins extend this far.” He looked at her gravely. “The city you and Ebudae like to play in didn’t come out far in this direction, but one of the older cities did. None of it is on the Guard maps, but a few know their way around.” Frath gestured for her to follow as he walked away from the warehouse. “Come on, let’s go see a woman I know.”

  She walked alongside as he turned toward the Slum District. When he reached out a hand, she took it even though she was no longer a child. A pretty, young woman in the slums, even a dangerous one with a sword, was a target. However, only the most foolish would attack her father, an intimidating swordsman both by physical appearance and by reputation, to get to her.

  Squalor was an inadequate word to describe the trash-strewn streets with demoralized indigents huddled in corners. They didn’t beg because few in the district had coin and those that did were bullies and thieves. The pungent odors changed from livestock to unwashed bodies and rot. Pelya couldn’t put her finger on what was rotting, but guessed that it was numerous things and tried hard not to consider the worst. The sounds echoing through the tight streets between ramshackle buildings were those of misery. She heard occasional cries of misfortunate children born into poverty and suffering. Occasionally there would be a scream or an adult crying and she cringed at what might have happened to them. Apathy tinged the general murmur of conversation.

  As Pelya grew older, more and more men would stare at her, make catcalls, indecent comments or proposals, and just about anything else. In the slum, slovenly men who gathered in groups were worse than normal. As long as they weren’t within reach of her father, they said things Pelya had never heard before.

  She had trained with Bava and many of the women in the Guard about what to expect and how to handle the things that would be said and gestures that would be made, but it still made her uncomfortable. Pelya did her best not to show a reaction, but felt the blood drain from her face and knew she must be pale. Her father succeeded in showing no outside reaction, but if he were to squeeze her hand any harder, all the bones would break.

  They moved quickly through the haphazard buildings that rose higher and higher. Unlike other areas, clay and mud was added to the stone of ground-level walls and large amounts of cheap wood were slapped together to make upper levels. She found herself instinctively ducking and leaning into her father.

  It wasn’t long before he entered one of those buildings. A scurvy-looking man with rotting teeth and grimy rags for clothes was leaning against the wall outside the empty doorway. The suggestion he made as to what Pelya could do with him for the rest of the day horrified her. However, the vagabond made the mistake of being too close.

  The sound of her father’s fist crushing the man’s face in a powerful a
nd rapid swing was sickening. Bones audibly broke and blood gushed from the nose and mouth. Frath led Pelya through the doorway without stopping as the man fell to the ground with hands covering his face.

  She had no desire to say anything at that point and just followed as her father led her through the dark room. A couple of worn-down old women sat at a table mending trousers that would be more suited as cleaning rags. Neither made eye contact with the newcomers.

  An old set of stairs led down to a wooden door. A rat nibbled on a rotten morsel hidden in some trash on the corner of the steps. It looked at her in interest as though wondering what she was doing in that part of town. She didn’t give it an answer so it went back to its task.

  Frath knocked on the door in an unusual sequence. Pelya could tell it was a code, so she paid close attention and memorized it, tapping it out on her thigh a couple of times to be certain she had it. The door opened without the help of a person and Pelya realized that it had a minor enchantment on it. Frath pulled her through before it immediately closed behind them.

  “I don’t know if she’s nearby at the moment, but I’m hoping so. It will be harder to find the section of the old city under the warehouse without her help.” Frath looked around the small basement room. There were a few shelves, but everything was surprisingly clean in contrast to the slums above. The smell wasn’t too bad, so he uncovered his face. Pelya removed her bandana as well and stuck it in her belt, handy for future use.

  Pelya considered asking questions, but she had lost any desire to talk by that point. She just held onto his hand and studied the surroundings.

  Her father faced her and put a gentle hand on her cheek. “Are you alight, Pelya?”

  “Yes, Daddy.” Pelya tried to give him a reassuring smile, but it didn’t reach her lips. She honestly had no clue if she was alright or not, but did know that she wasn’t as excited as before.

  Concern covered his features and he tenderly caressed the cheek. “I know that was terrible up there and I’m sorry you had to hear all those things. I want you to know that we’re going to be going into a dangerous area. If I can find my friend, we’ll have a guide. I can handle most things, but there’s always the chance everything will go wrong and we’ll die badly.”

  His words were in a reassuring tone, but there was nothing reassuring about the content. Pelya frowned as she considered them. “You’re absolutely terrible at pep talks, Daddy.”

  Frath rubbed his face. “I know. Your mother used to say the same thing.” He released her hand and put both of his on his hips. “What I’m trying to say is that we’ll be alright . . . probably.”

  Pelya couldn’t help but laugh. “Nope. That’s not any better, but I know what you mean and I’m ready.

  “Who comes into my home?” a woman’s raspy voice asked from behind Frath. Pelya placed a hand on her sword and crouched in readiness.

  Frath turned without alarm. “Erma. I’m so glad to see you. We need your help.”

  Pelya left the crouch and examined the newcomer in the dim lantern light of the room. The first thing she noticed was the rat-like woman’s eyes. One was milky white while the other was bright red. The narrow face had a long, pointed noise protruding down the center and a recessed chin. Her greasy black hair was snarled and looked like it had been cut short by a dull knife. At first, Pelya thought she was old, but upon closer inspection realized that Erma had to be in her early twenties.

  The woman was hunched over and held her hands together in front of her. “Frath Jornin. You visit me. You rescue me again or have tea?” She seemed genuinely pleased by Frath’s arrival.

  “Hello, Erma. I’m hoping you will help me rescue someone else this time.” Frath’s spoke quietly, his tones distinctly calmer than normal. Pelya made a mental note to speak the same way to the skittish woman.

  “Rescue someone else? Erma pay you back?” She pointed a bony finger with a long, dirty nail on it. “Must rescue eight people. That’s how many times you rescued me.”

  “I told you two of those don’t count.” Frath’s voice was still calm, but there was a touch of exasperation in it.

  “Do too. I decide.” Erma pointed the finger at Pelya. “Is this one of eight that need saving?”

  “No. This is my daughter Pelya. She’s helping us save them and there’s not eight, only . . .” He turned to Pelya.

  “There should be three or four: Aphry, her husband Glav, her brother Jovias and maybe an actress named Karla. She was with us when we saved Frank the first time, so they may have taken her too.”

  “Only four? Must save eight,” Erma insisted. “Frath save my life eight times.”

  “Six.” Frath said it under his breath.

  “Eight!” Erma insisted, bringing the finger back up to point at him. “Where are they? We save eight.”

  “They’re under the warehouse of Master Blavoci on the edge of the Livestock District.” Frath pointed in the general direction.

  “Not know Master Blavoci. Many warehouses under the Smell.” Erma walked around the room, pointing her finger in every direction.

  “Under the Smell?” Pelya whispered to her father.

  “That’s what she calls the livestock district,” he whispered back. Erma continued walking around, pointing at nothing.

  “They probably bring captured people and animals in and out of the city through underground passages,” Pelya said, remembering where she and Ebudae had rescued the slaves from.

  Erma hissed and clawed the air. “Slavers.” The word was a condemnation. “Yes, I know. Save people in cages?” She asked Frath, tilting her head up questioningly.

  “The people we’re looking for may be in cages. I don’t know if there’s any more,” Frath said.

  “Many more. Rescue them all.” It wasn’t a question, it was a demand.

  “Yes, we’ll rescue them all,” Pelya agreed. Her father raised his eyebrows and put his hands on his hips, unhappy at the promise. Pelya crossed her arms stubbornly. “I won’t be able to help myself. Slavery is wrong regardless of whether or not it’s legal. If they’re trapped and suffering, I’ll have to do everything I can to rescue them.”

  “Yes. Must rescue them. Come, take you.” Erma grabbed Pelya’s arm and dragged her into a dimly lit tunnel.

  “I’m going to regret this. I know I am,” Frath muttered as he followed.

  Chapter 19

  “Did you actually save her eight times, Daddy?” Pelya asked. Erma had gone to scout ahead into the darkness, leaving them in a run-down building to eat some basic rations for lunch. They sat on crates Erma had taken from somewhere and a lone lantern provided their only light. The architecture in the ruins was different from what Pelya and Ebudae had explored under Lady Pallon’s manor. It was much worse for wear even though the pillars that kept Dralin from collapsing still existed.

  “Six.” Frath didn’t clarify. He had been quiet during their journey.

  “Who is she?” Pelya wanted some answers at least. She put her braid in her mouth and chewed on it while she listened.

  “She was an orphan. I found her in an alley when she was younger. Some men had . . . well, she was hurt and broken.” He took a small sip of cheap, warm ale Erma had stored in the building. I took her to a healer. Then I found her a place where I thought she would be safe. I was wrong.” He made a face at the taste of the ale and held the mug in his hands.

  Pelya took the braid out of her mouth. “Did you have to rescue her again?” She put it back again.

  “Yeah. She didn’t have anywhere to go, so I found an abandoned building for her to stay in. She disappeared after a few days and I couldn’t find her for a year.” Frath tried another sip and made another face. He stood and walked to the door, looking out into the darkness. “She had been taken and made a prostitute. I rescued her from that and sent her out of the city. A young woman alone doesn’t stand a chance though and I found her here in the ruins below the slum district.”

  “What were you doing down here?” Pelya as
ked in curiosity. The idea that her father was an explorer like her was thrilling.

  “Just you never mind about that. The important thing is that she’s been down here for a few years now and knows the area better than anyone.” He came back and sat on the crate he had vacated.

  “She went off without any light. The milky eye is blind, but what about the red one?” Pelya asked.

  Frath raised an eyebrow. “What makes you think the milky eye is blind?”

  “Well, when an eye is milky like that, that’s what it means . . .” Pelya had seen blind people with similar looking eyes.

  “I suppose you have a point, but she’s not blind. A wizard captured her and performed experiments on her.”

  “That’s terrible!”

  “Her life has been terrible,” Frath admitted. “She’s impressive for having survived all of it. Anyway, her eyes used to be pink. The wizard did something to take all the color out of one eye and put it into the other. Thus one is milky white and the other is red.”

  “That’s just weird. Then she’s not blind?”

  “Not exactly. She can’t see like us. From what she’s told me, she can see hot and cold with the red eye and souls with the white one.” Frath shrugged. He got up again, impatient for Erma to return. “I wish I had put on my chain shirt. I feel vulnerable without it.”

  “What do you mean she can see souls?” It was fascinating to Pelya. She hoped Erma would be a while so she could keep asking questions. There was no such luck.

  “See soul wrapped in your warm body.” Erma’s rasping voice came from the darkness behind them. She hadn’t made a noise. “Also see souls that no longer have bodies. Worst souls are laced with evil, looking for living creatures to destroy.”