A Pound of Flesh

by Susan Wright

  There were hundreds of slaves of every race and age in the market. The enormity of it overwhelmed me. None of these people deserved to be enslaved.

  At the end of the lane was a round building, the front half open with only pillars for support. Under the dome was a raised platform with crowds of men gathering below. At the top of the wooden steps was a table where several men sat writing on parchment. The back of the platform was crowded with people, some carrying whips while others were bound.

  A woman stood at the front of the platform. She bent her head and reluctantly dropped her robe to reveal herself. She was full fleshed and unblemished, as if she had known only a life of ease. The men below began shouting out, raising their hands, as an older man in a saffron robe pointed from one to the other.

  The woman was near to tears from being exposed. Her hands trembled and her head turned away. It incited the men who were bidding for her, and their cries grew more insistent.

  Lexander hurried us past the auction. I wondered if any of those turbaned men were masters from Saaladet.

  As we had agreed, Lexander took us straight to the master house. It was adjacent to the inlet of water that separated the city of Stanbulin from the rest of the countryside. The hills became cliffs along the water’s edge.

  As we approached a rounded butte, Lexander pointed up. "There’s Saaladet, the master house."

  Buildings were carved directly into the cliff face. There were four levels with the floors intersecting oddly as they followed the natural undulations of the promontory. Scraggly plants grew in the crevices among the rubble. On the low foothill in front of the cliff were a few small structures.

  A wall encircled the base of the butte, sturdy enough to repel attack and topped with tall iron spikes. I doubted even Lexander could surmount it. "It looks like a fortress."

  "It is." Lexander’s expression had shut down, revealing nothing.

  Lexander acquired a room on the top floor of a hostel close to the city wall. Through the lattice over the window, we could see the rooms of Saaladet cut into the cliff. Lights shone forth, but only a few people went down the slanting path to the city gate and the private harbor beyond. Unlike Castropiero, the master house did not entertain its neighbors.

  In the privacy of our room, Lexander declared, "The only way is for me to poison the masters."

  I stared at him. "Surely there are other options, Lexander. The masters must have made enemies in this city."

  "The empire is in turmoil, Marja. Their lands are under siege by the sultan’s warbands, which keep winning every engagement with their horse troops. And the empress just married a general few have trust in. From the reports I heard in the isles, I expected to see the sultan camped outside the wall. You’d not convince the great sanctuary of Kristna itself to care about Saaladet right now."

  "You want to kill as many of the masters as you can," I said flatly.

  "Yes, at the same time. It’s the safest way. For that, I need poison."

  Eshter was taken aback. But Bene was grinning as if unduly excited by the idea. "How will you do it?"

  "I’ll douse the wine with it. The masters are the only ones who drink wine."

  "What about the servants? You don’t think they drink the wine?" I remembered the kitchen servants in Vidaris taking sips from the open bottles.

  Lexander waved that off. "The wine will mask the bitter taste."

  "Will you bribe the wine seller?" Bene asked.

  "No. I must do this myself. Poison is available here, though it will be expensive to get as much as I need."

  I shook my head, disliking everything about his plan.

  "We tried it your way with Allonis, and it didn’t work," Lexander told me. "Saaladet is far more powerful than any pleasure house."

  "You’ll be recognized," I told him. "It won’t be safe for you to go in."

  "I can take care to avoid everyone on my way to the storage rooms."

  It couldn’t be that easy. But Bene clearly believed him. He offered, "I could pose as a slave and do it for you."

  "This is not Montplaire," Lexander told him. "Slaves are kept confined at all times."

  "I can imagine," Eshter murmured.

  "I must go in alone," Lexander insisted.

  "How can you get inside?" Bene cocked his head, examining the master house through our window. "We could go over the back of the hill and lower you down."

  "It’s been tried before, but never with success. My people guard Saaladet well." Lexander glanced at me, unwilling to say more in front of Eshter and Bene. His people had special powers when it came to protecting themselves.

  "The gate is the problem," he continued. "The keepers know who can enter. But there’s also a sea gate, which lies between the walls that open into the harbor." Lexander pointed, and we could just see the top of one of the massive towers. "That gate is normally lowered so ships can’t enter. I think it’s possible to swim underneath, though it will be difficult without attracting the attention of the sentries on the towers." He turned to me. "I thought you could ask for help from the spirits. I need to be concealed, as they did when you went into Allonis."

  I tilted my head. "I would have to be with you."

  Lexander frowned. "No, that won’t work. Perhaps I can do without . . ."

  "There must be another way," I insisted.

  "It will take a few days for me to locate the right herbalist. If you can think of something better—"

  At that moment, the floor began to move. The hanging basket tilted, then began to swing.

  We all reached out to steady ourselves. I’m sure my eyes were as wide as Eshter’s.

  "What is it?" Eshter exclaimed, as Bene let out a whoop. He rocked on his stool, exaggerating the sensation. Olfs popped in, excited by our reactions.

  Lexander watched the basket for a few moments. "A trembler. Nothing to be frightened of."

  The ground seemed alive, heaving for a moment before settling back down to sleep. I was eager to see if some trace lingered behind in the ground. Lexander wanted to survey the sea gate of the master house, so we headed back down to the narrow streets.

  Lexander spent all of his time tracking down herbalists, trying to find one who could discreetly provide what he needed. I put on dark enveloping robes that showed only my eyes so I could walk through the city unhindered. Bene had to remain inside because of the roving bands of conscriptors, and Eshter flatly refused to give up her boyish attire.

  With the olfs’ help, I picked up enough to know that the empire was teetering. Generations of emperors had spent their riches too freely, building rich palaces and public buildings. Despite the people filling thousands of shops, vendors, and cafes, there were complaints that trade had fallen off due to the sultan’s raiders.

  I soon found the great sanctuary of Kristna, rising like a small mountain in the midst of the city. It was capped with domes of ever-increasing size and surrounded by towering minarets. I followed the olfs inside, and was dazzled by the gold-covered arches and columns. The dome seemed to float on the air as if Kristna’s hand held it aloft.

  The city flaunted its wealth, making it a tempting target. The empress was fighting with the patriarchs of the city over her choice of husband, while the new emperor conscripted goods as well as men from the city to bolster his campaign against the sultan.

  Stanbulin felt like a juggernaut that would crush me if I threw myself into its meshes. The master house seemed impervious to it all, complacent within their cliff like an island in a turbulent sea.

  By the time Lexander asked me if he could use the last gold coins to purchase the poison, I had no other choice. The more he had discussed his plan with us, refining the details, I had accepted the inevitable. He was determined to throw himself into the pit and fight his own way out.

  But I was going in with him. After gauging the distance, it was clear that he needed the help of the olfs to obscure the sentries’ sight. He agreed that I would accompany him into the harbor as long as I left i
mmediately thereafter.

  So I gave Lexander the purse, and he at last returned with a large glass bottle. White crystals much like salt were sealed inside with purple wax. The olfs scattered as Lexander locked it into a casket. It was made from the seeds of cherry laurel trees and would cause the masters to appear drunk—excited, flushed, confused, and finally drowsy. Once they lay down, they would never get up again. I feared Lexander would be trapped by the flames when the masters died, but he assured me that Saaladet would not burn as the pleasure houses did.

  The next morning, we woke to see Saaladet’s sea gate pulled up high and a winged ship passing into the harbor. Lexander told us, "More slaves have arrived. Tonight will be the perfect time for me to go in. They always celebrate when they have fresh stock."

  "I’m ready," I agreed. I had my own plan, unbeknownst to him. I wasn’t going to run away. I was going to hide in the harbor, ready to help Lexander in case he needed it.

  When full darkness fell, we pushed our new rowboat into the inky water. Lexander carried the poison in an oilskin bag along with fresh corks and wax to reseal the wine bottles. He also brought a flowing ankle-length robe such as the masters wore. I shucked off my enveloping layers, leaving only a brief chemise, before slipping into the icy waters.

  I gasped from the cold. I had been communing with the sea spirits since we had embarked, but the shock of the water jolted me.

  The lights on top of the city wall looked far away. Several olfs cast a helpful glow, and Bene and Eshter were two pale faces leaning over us.

  "Will they conceal us?" Lexander asked quietly.

  At my request, the olfs darted off to cloud the sentries’ eyes, hiding us from their sight. I could see their swirling presence on top of the towers. "They’re doing it."

  "Good, let’s go." He began to swim noiselessly toward the city.

  I followed him as fast as I could. By the time we were close to the sea gate, I was immersed in the spirits, warmed by the exertion and their protection. Lexander was barely breathing hard, treading water without a sound. The sentries were right above us, bathed in the glow of the olfs.

  From the sea spirits, I began to feel the tug of the current at our feet. "We’ll have to go underwater from here," I whispered. "Let the flow guide you."

  We took a few deep breaths, then plunged under the water. I could barely see, and felt something brush my head as I ducked under the sea gate. The gate interfered with the current, causing eddies beside it and speeding the water up as it passed underneath. I shot into the harbor with hardly a bubble.

  When I finally surfaced, I checked first to be sure the sentries couldn’t see me. I was gasping as I tried to catch my breath, afraid that they would hear me. But there was no one in sight. The sentries must have been leaning on the outside of the wall.

  Then I looked around for Lexander. There was only black water around me.

  I silently swam toward the dock. The large ship was there with the broad sails tied up. There were also several boats with single masts, including one the size of our rowboat.

  I climbed onto the dock, a ponderous stone quay, staying in the shadows cast by the winged ship. While Lexander went up to the master house, I intended to hide inside the ship. The crew was kept outside of Saaladet’s gates and would return only when it was time for them to depart.

  I looked for Lexander, calling to the olfs to come help me. But none would venture into the harbor. The sea spirits also withdrew. The silence was ominous, as if pressure was building in the air.

  Visions of Lexander getting trapped under the sea gate flashed before my eyes. I kept hoping he would appear, bag in hand, calmly prepared to commit mass slaughter.

  I was concentrating so hard on the water that I didn’t notice the people coming down the path until they were quite close.

  "Don’t you want to stay together?" a woman asked, keeping her voice low as if afraid of being overheard. I had come to associate the sibilant words with Stanbulin, and knew enough from the olfs to understand the ancient tongue somewhat.

  "This is the only way," the man insisted. "They’ll need to open another house in Danelaw."

  I slipped over the edge of the quay to dive underwater, making a splash. Before I could take two strokes, someone jumped on top of me.

  The impact drove my breath away. I choked as the master hauled me back to the wharf.

  The mistress reached down to grab my wrist. She lifted me one-handed from the water as if I were a puppy. She could have easily snapped my arm.

  They were mere shadows in the dim light, but they examined me closely. "Who are you?" the mistress demanded, shaking my arm. "How did you get in here?"

  I pointed to the city gate, hoping to distract them from the water. "Stanbulin," I cried, trying to get the inflection exactly right.

  The woman fired rapid questions at me, but I couldn’t understand because she spoke too fast. The mistress declared, "Look at what she’s wearing! She must be a slave. How did you get out here?"

  I pointed to the city gate, growing more frantic, but they weren’t going to let me go. They marched me up the path toward the cliff. My bare feet scuffed on the smooth rock as I tried to look behind me. I couldn’t see Lexander anywhere.

  The mouths of the caves were larger than they looked from the streets below. The sides were shored up with pillars and stone blocks lay in neat lines, masking the rough surface beneath. The floor was worn into shallow trenches from centuries of footsteps, smoothing the impervious rock.

  It was dark inside, with lanterns covered in perforated shades marking each arched tunnel. As we went farther, the weight of the hill seemed to close in on me. There was something waiting for me here, something I had long sought to avoid.

  I was thrust into a round room with a perfectly arched ceiling. It was proportioned to suit the height of the godlings. Though we were inside a cave, it looked like other chambers I’d seen in the city with thick rugs on the floor and carved wooden screens to hide the walls. Cushions lay in piles near some low tables. The lanterns cast colored specks of light all around the room.

  Another master arrived. His head was perfectly smooth like Lexander’s, but his face was gently lined and his voice was husky with age, so he must have been very powerful. The old master grasped my hand, touching my soft palm, noting I did little work with them.

  Then he stood back and ordered, "Gesig!"

  It was impossible to resist. My knees buckled in spite of myself. I was down in the position of surrender before I realized I had betrayed myself.

  "Take her to the cells," he ordered in the Stanbulin tongue.

  The younger master lifted me effortlessly to my feet. He said something about the boat that had arrived today.

  "That’s what we shall discover," the elder replied.

  I stumbled beside the young master, fear choking me. Where was Lexander? What would they do to me?

  We went down a slanting tunnel that grew steeper at the end. Water was dripping and in some places the rock glinted with moisture, picking up the lantern light.

  Then the master thrust me into a tiny alcove and slammed an iron grate shut in my face. The lock rasped and the glow departed with the sound of his feet.

  In complete darkness, I felt around the walls. The cell was barely big enough for me to stand. I crouched down near the grate where the floor was somewhat drier, listening. A high-pitched sound was rising and falling, and at first I thought it was wind howling through the tunnels. Then I realized it was distant screams.

  I knelt there, petrified, expecting the masters to return at any moment to begin their interrogation. I eventually fell asleep clutching the iron grate. I kept waking to the sounds of rats rustling in the tunnel or when the screams grew louder.

  For the first time in my life, I was not sure when the sun rose. I was blinded inside the rock, cut off from everything. There was no food, no water, only the damp, cold darkness.

  And it went on.

  I tried to reach out to the Ot
herworld, but I couldn’t hear the waves of the sea, and the olfs never responded. The only voices I heard were demon whispers, sighing that I would die in this rocky tomb. They urged me to give up and accept my demise. They sapped my strength and numbed my mind. I resisted, but I knew that they would win in the end, as they had won with those far down the tunnel who had gone mad.

  Eshter had told me that Renata had once put her down in the well to punish her. Eshter had stood there all night crying, trying to keep from collapsing. Another slave in the house had become ill after being dragged from the well, and he was taken away never to return.

  Now the cruel voices insisted that Lexander had used the well when he was master of Castropiero. He had put boys like Bene down there to sicken and die. I didn’t want to face it, but it was true. How many slaves had Lexander hurt?

  The longer I resisted the taunting of the demons, the more convinced I became that they had kept Lexander from passing through the sea gate. They lived off the godlings, and that bottle of poison would have ruined their lair. Surely these demons protected the godlings as part of some lethal bargain.

  Along with their torment, I was plagued by my thirst. Hunger came and went, but my need for water only grew. My lips cracked and I resorted to licking the rocks, trying to absorb all the moisture I could. But it wasn’t enough. I would perish if I wasn’t released soon.

  It was the inhumanity of it that destroyed me. How could I resist when there was no one to resist against? I mattered not in the least to them. They had forgotten me. I was alone, a scrap of refuse left for evil to toy with.

  I clung to the hope of rescue. Lexander knew I had been captured by the masters. He knew about these cells.

  But what if he had drowned?

  As the last strength drained from my body, I passed in and out of awareness. There was nothing I could do to save myself. In my waking moments, I wanted only to avoid the anguish inflicted by the demons, taunting me with visions of Lexander abusing the slaves and pleasuring his consorts. I pressed my cheek and my palms into the rock, flattening my body against it.