He’s busy right now, Althalus. Could I take a message?
“There must be tons of it down here!”
Told you, she reminded him smugly.
The gold had been cast into oblong blocks, each about the size of a man’s hand and slightly thicker. They weighed about five pounds apiece. Althalus found that he was trembling violently as he lifted the blocks out of the hole and laid them on the flagstones.
Don’t get carried away, Althalus, Emmy suggested.
“Twenty?” He said it with a great reluctance.
I don’t think the horse would want to carry any more.
Althalus forced himself to stop at twenty of the gold blocks. Then he replaced the flagstone, shoveled all the dirt back into the hole, and uprooted a number of nearby bushes. He replanted the bushes in the freshly dug-up dirt to conceal his private gold mine.
Then he fashioned a couple of bags, put ten blocks of gold in each, tied them together, and hung them across his horse’s back just behind his saddle. Then he remounted, whistling gaily.
You’re all bubbly this afternoon, Emmy noted.
“I’m stinking rich, Em,” he said exuberantly.
I’ve been noticing that for several days now. You’re long overdue for a bath.
“That’s not what I meant, little kitten.”
It should have been. You’re strong enough to curdle milk.
“I told you that hard work didn’t agree with me, Em,” he reminded her.
They crossed the River Osthos late that afternoon and made camp on the Treborean side. To keep the peace, Althalus bathed, washed his clothes, and even shaved off the past month’s growth of beard. Emmy definitely approved of that. They rose early the following morning, and three days later they caught sight of the walls of the city of Osthos. “Impressive,” Althalus observed.
I’m sure they’ll be glad you approve. Emmy’s whisper sounded inside his head. How did you plan to gain entry into the palace?
“I’ll come up with something. What’s the word for ‘stay away’?”
“Bheudh.” Actually “bheudh” means “to make someone aware of something,” but your thought when you say the word should get your meaning across. Why do you ask?
“I’ll have to go about on foot to locate certain officials, and I’d rather not have some rascal steal my horse. He’s very dear to me right now.”
I wonder why.
Althalus rode some distance away from the road, and with Emmy’s instruction, he converted five of his gold blocks into coins marked with the idealized picture of a stalk of wheat, which identified them as having come from Perquaine. Then he rode into the city, where he stopped by a clothier’s shop and bought himself some moderately elegant garments to disguise his rustic origins. Emmy chose not to comment when he emerged from the shop.
He remounted and made his way to the public buildings near the palace to listen and to ask questions.
“I wouldn’t go anywhere near her, stranger,” a silver-haired old statesman advised when Althalus asked him about the procedure for gaining an audience with Arya Andine.
“Oh?” Althalus said. “Why’s that?”
“She was difficult before her father’s death, but now she’s graduated from difficult to impossible.”
“Unfortunately, I have some business I have to discuss with her. I’d planned to talk with her father, the Aryo. I hadn’t heard that he’d died. What happened to him?”
“I thought everybody knew. The Kanthons invaded us a month or so back, and they sent their mercenaries down here to lay siege to our city. Our noble Aryo led our army outside the walls to chase those howling barbarians off, and one of the scoundrels murdered him.”
“My goodness!”
“The murderer was captured, naturally.”
“Good. Did Arya Andine have him put to death?”
“No, he’s still alive. Arya Andine’s still considering various ways to send him off. I’m sure she’ll come up with something suitably unpleasant—eventually. What line of business are you in, my friend?”
“I’m a labor contractor,” Althalus replied.
The statesman gave him a quizzical look.
Althalus winked slyly at him. “ ‘Labor contractor’ sounds so much nicer than ‘slave trader,’ wouldn’t you say? I’d heard about the assault on your city, and I understand that your soldiers captured several of the attackers. I thought I might stop by and take them off your hands. The owners of the salt mines in Ansu are paying a lot of money for strong, healthy slaves right now. Captured soldiers bring a premium price in the salt mines, and I pay in good gold. Do you think Arya Andine might be interested?”
“The word ‘gold’ is very likely to get her attention,” the courtier agreed. “She’ll want to keep Eliar, the young fellow who killed her father, but she’d probably be willing to sell the others to you. What might your name be, my friend?”
“I’m called Althalus.”
“A very ancient name.”
“My family was sort of old-fashioned.”
“Why don’t we step over to the palace, Master Althalus?” the courtier suggested. “I’ll introduce you to our impossible Arya.”
The old gentleman led the way to the palace gate, and he and Althalus were immediately admitted. “The soldiers will look after your horse, Master Althalus,” the silver-haired man said. “Oh, my name’s Dhakan, by the way. I tend to forget that strangers don’t know me.”
“I’m pleased to make your acquaintance, Lord Dhakan,” Althalus said, bowing politely.
Emmy, who’d been sitting rather primly on the saddle of their horse, dropped sinuously to the stones of the courtyard.
“Your pet, Master Althalus?” Dhakan asked.
“She tends to look at it the other way around, my Lord,” Althalus replied. “Cats are sort of like that.”
“I have a pet turtle myself,” Dhakan said. “He doesn’t move very fast, but then, neither do I.”
Osthos was an ancient city, and the throne room was truly magnificent. It had a marble floor and stately columns. At the far end was a raised dais backed by crimson drapes, and there was an ornate throne on that dais. Imperious Andine, Arya of Osthos, sat upon that throne. She was quite obviously not paying the slightest bit of attention to the droning speech being presented by a stout man wearing a white mantle. The speech was a diplomatically gentle suggestion that the young Arya wasn’t paying enough heed to affairs of state.
Andine was young—very young, in fact. Althalus judged her to be no more than fifteen years old. Everyone else in her throne room had white hair, the only exception being a similarly youthful kilted Arum, who was chained to a marble column at one side of the dais. That young fellow was receiving imperious Andine’s undivided attention. She was looking directly at him with her huge, almost black eyes, and she was absently toying with a large laurel-leaf dagger.
That’s the Knife, pet, Emmy silently exulted.
“Is that the murderer chained to that post?” Althalus whispered to Dhakan a bit incredulously.
“Sick, isn’t it?” Dhakan replied. “Our glorious, but slightly warped, leader hasn’t let him out of her sight since the day he was captured.”
“Surely she has a dungeon.”
“Oh, yes, indeed she does. The other prisoners are all there. For some strange reason, our little girl longs for the sight of the young ruffian. She never talks to him, but she never takes her eyes off him. She sits there playing with that knife and watching him.”
“He looks just a bit nervous.”
“Wouldn’t you be?”
Then Emmy, her tail sinuously flowing back and forth, daintily crossed the marble floor and went up onto the dais.
What are you doing? Althalus sent a startled thought at her.
Stay out of this, pet, her voice came back. Then she raised herself up, putting her front paws on the marble throne, and meowed inquiringly at the young Arya.
Andine jerked her eyes off her captive and looked at the green-eyed cat at her
knee. “What an adorable kitten!” she exclaimed. “Where did you come from, Puss?”
“My apologies, your Highness,” Althalus said, stepping forward. “Emmy, you come back here.”
Arya Andine gave him a puzzled look. “I don’t believe I know you,” she said. Her voice was rich and vibrant, the kind of voice that stirs a man’s spirit.
“Permit me, your Highness,” Dhakan said, stepping forward and bowing slightly. “This is Master Althalus, and he’s come here to discuss a business matter.”
Emmy gave another inquiring meow.
“Did you want to come up here into my lap, Puss?” Andine asked. She leaned forward and picked Emmy up. She held the cat out and looked into her face. “My,” she said in her rich voice, “aren’t you adorable?” Then she put the cat in her lap. “There,” she said, “was that what you wanted?”
Emmy started to purr.
“Master Althalus here is a businessman, Arya Andine,” Dhakan said. “He deals in captives, and since he heard about the recent attack on our city, he’s stopped by to inquire about the possibility of buying those barbaric Arum prisoners from you. I recommend that you give him a hearing, your Highness.”
“What on earth would you do with them, Master Althalus?” Andine asked curiously.
“I have a number of contacts in Ansu, your Highness,” Althalus replied. “The owners of the salt mines there are always in the market for strong young men. A salt mine uses up workers at a ferocious rate.”
“You’re a slave trader, then?”
Althalus shrugged deprecatingly. “It’s a living, your Highness. Slaves are a valuable commodity. I buy them in places where they’re an inconvenience and take them to places where they can be put to work to pay for their keep. Everybody benefits, really. The one who sells them to me gets gold, and the one who buys them gets laborers.”
“What do the slaves get?”
“They get fed, your Highness. A slave doesn’t have to worry about where his next meal’s coming from. He gets fed even when the crops fail or the fish aren’t biting.”
“Our philosophers tell us that slavery’s an evil.”
“I don’t concern myself with philosophy, your Highness. I take the world as I find it. I’m prepared to offer ten Perquaine gold wheats for every able-bodied young captive you’d care to sell.”
She stared at him in astonishment. “That’s a noble price, Master Althalus,” she said in that throbbing voice.
“I buy the best, your Highness, so I pay the best. I don’t deal in children or old men or young women. I buy only young, strong, healthy men who can put in a good day’s work.” He glanced over at the youthful Arum chained to the marble pillar. “With your permission, your Highness,” he said, bowing slightly. He walked over to the pillar where Eliar sat disconsolately on the marble floor in chains. “On your feet!” Althalus barked.
“Who says so?” Eliar replied sullenly.
Althalus reached out, took Eliar by his hair, and jerked him into a standing position. “When I tell you to do something, do it,” he said. “Now open your mouth. I want to see your teeth.”
Eliar tightly clamped his mouth shut.
“He’s a bit stubborn, Master Althalus,” Andine said. “I’ve been trying ever so hard to cure him of that.”
“It takes a certain amount of firmness to break a slave’s spirit, your Highness,” Althalus advised her. Then he took his dagger from his belt and pried Eliar’s teeth apart with it. “Good healthy teeth,” he noted. “That’s a promising sign. Bad teeth usually mean that the slave’s got something wrong with him.”
Eliar made a lunge at Althalus, but his chains brought him up short.
“He’s a little stupid,” Althalus observed, “but that can be cured. Boy,” he said to the captive, “didn’t your Sergeant ever explain to you that it’s foolish to attack an armed man with your bare hands? Particularly when you’re chained up.”
Eliar was straining at his chains, trying to pull himself free.
“Good muscle tone there, too,” Althalus said approvingly. “I’d pay a premium for this one, your Highness.”
“That one isn’t for sale,” Andine replied rather intensely. Her voice had taken on a steely note, and her huge black eyes burned.
“Everything’s for sale, your Highness,” Althalus replied with a cynical laugh.
Don’t push it just yet, Althalus, Emmy’s purring voice murmured in his mind. I’m still working on her.
Do you think you can bring her around?
Probably. She’s young enough to be impulsive. Ask to see the other captives. You’ll probably have to buy them all to get Eliar.
“We can discuss this one later, your Highness,” Althalus said to the Arya. “Do you suppose I might be able to take a look at the others?”
“Of course, Master Althalus,” Andine replied. “Show him the way to the dungeon, Lord Dhakan.”
“At once, your Highness,” the silver-haired old gentlemen replied. “This way, Master Althalus.”
The two of them left the throne room.
“Your Arya’s a beautiful young woman, Lord Dhakan,” Althalus observed.
“That’s the only reason we tolerate her, Althalus. She’s pretty enough that we can overlook her flaws.”
“She’ll settle down, Dhakan. Marry her off, that’s my advice. After she’s had a few babies, she’ll start to grow up.”
There were nine kilted young Arums in the dungeon, and some of them were still nursing wounds they’d received during the battle outside the walls of Osthos. Althalus made some show of inspecting them. “Not bad, on the whole,” he said as he and Dhakan were returning to the throne room. “That one she’s got chained to the post is the key to the whole arrangement, though. He’s the best of the lot. If we can persuade her to include him, I’ll make her an offer. If she won’t agree, I think I’ll have to go elsewhere.”
“I’ll speak with her, Althalus,” Dhakan promised. “You might want to describe the conditions the slaves have to live in once they get to the mines of Ansu. Exaggeration wouldn’t hurt. Our little girl hungers and thirsts for revenge. Let’s persuade her that the life of a slave in a salt mine is far, far worse than anything she can think of to do to him here. That might just tip the scales. Be eloquent, Althalus. Linger on unspeakable horrors if you possibly can. Our dear Andine is topful of passions, and passionate people make hasty decisions based on whims. I’ll help as much as I can. I want that young Eliar out of Osthos and out of Andine’s sight. If she refuses to sell him to you, I’ll have to come up with a way to kill him. I have to get rid of him.”
“Trust me, Dhakan,” Althalus said confidently. “When it comes to buying and selling, I’m the very best.” Then he sent his thought out to Emmy. Have you got her yet, Em? he asked.
I’m getting closer.
See if you can stir some interest in the salt mines.
What for?
So I can tell her some horror stories.
You’re going to lie to her, I take it?
No, I’m going to tell her the truth. Unless things have changed, the salt mines of Ansu are worse than the deepest pits in Nekweros. Dhakan thinks that might turn the trick here. Nudge her hard, Em. If she doesn’t sell Eliar to us, Dhakan’s going to have him killed.
When Althalus and Dhakan entered the throne room, they saw that Andine had laid the laurel-leaf dagger aside and that she was concentrating all her attention on Emmy. She was smiling, and her smile was almost like the sun coming up. Even when she’d been scowling at Eliar, she’d been beautiful, but when she smiled, her beauty made Althalus go weak in the knees.
Dhakan went up to the dais and spoke quietly with his young ruler at some length.
Andine shook her head vehemently several times. Then Dhakan beckoned to Althalus.
Althalus approached the throne. “Yes, my Lord?” he asked Dhakan.
“I think we should get down to cases here, Master Althalus,” Dhakan declared. “What’s your offer?”
“Nine Perquaine wheats apiece for the ones you’ve got down in the dungeon,” Althalus replied.
“You said ten!” Andine’s voice suddenly soared. Sergeant Khalor’s description of that voice appeared to have been a slight understatement.
Althalus held up one finger. “The price is subject to amendment, your Highness,” he said. “If you’re willing to include the one you have chained here, I’ll slide it up. I’ll pay you eighty-one gold wheats for the nine in the dungeon. If you’re willing to add this one, I’ll pay you a hundred for the lot.”
“That’s a difference of nineteen pieces of gold. He isn’t worth that much!” Her voice rose again.
“He’s prime stock, your Highness. When I reach Ansu, I’ll put him out front for the mine owners to look at. They’ll buy the lot just to get him. I know good merchandise when I see it. I could sell cripples if I could wave Eliar in the buyer’s face.”
“What’s it like down there in those salt mines?” she asked. “How would you describe them?”
Althalus feigned a shudder. “I’d really rather not, your Highness,” he replied. “Over to the east, in Wekti, Plakand, and Equero, criminals beg to be executed when they’re sentenced to be sold into the salt mines as a punishment for murder and the like. Being sent into those mines is far worse than a death sentence. If a slave’s unlucky, he’ll last for ten years down there. The lucky ones die in just a few months.”
“Why don’t we talk about that?” Andine almost purred.
Althalus described conditions in the salt mines at some length, exaggerating only slightly. He mentioned the prevalence of blindness, the frequent cave-ins during which lucky slaves were crushed to death. He covered the darkness, the perpetual chill, the continuous choking dust, and dwelt at some length on the burly men with whips. “All in all,” he concluded, “murderers and the like are very wise to prefer hanging to the mines.”
“Then you’d say that being sent to the salt mines is a fate worse than death?” Andine said, her lovely eyes all aglow.
“Oh, yes,” Althalus assured her. “Much, much worse.”
“I do believe we can strike a bargain here, Master Althalus,” she decided. “A hundred gold wheats for the lot, you say?”
The Redemption of Althalus Page 15
