Naturally, Garrett would think he was in charge, and somehow knew more about everything. He was always putting himself forward. He’d gone off alone with the Queen, too, and come back very smug. Shakara could guess what had taken place there.
Garrett went on, “I have a possible way to get us out of this, so we must be very docile until the opportunity presents itself. No unfastening the shackles, or unlocking doors, or wandering about at night, understand, Drusinaar?”
“Yes.”
The child was always obedient, at least on the surface. Never argued, or flounced off in a huff, or cried, or retreated into stony silence. Shakara knew there was more to her, but Dru was like a deep well, dark and secret, the bottom unfathomably far below.
It was such a pity they would not now reach the homeland. The Tre’annatha had scholars of great skill, it was said, whose knowledge stretched back to before the Catastrophe. They would have known what to do with Dru, if these wretched raiders had not interfered. Shakara would have been glad to hand her charge over and go home.
Or not necessarily home – somewhere more amusing than the Western Keep, perhaps, which was a bit limited in many ways. The northern coast was highly civilised, it was said, with many opportunities for a lady of refinement. Something of the sort was still possible, even as a slave. Men were weak, and easy to cajole with a little seductive charm. A generous owner with certain appetites which she would be happy to accommodate – yes, plenty of possibilities.
She set about imagining her future life. A man of a certain age, perhaps, tired of his stuffy wife, who would be happy to have a princess to amuse him in bed. There would be a small house, a servant or two, some jewels and fine clothes. She would be somebody, and shopkeepers would bow down before her and vie for her custom. And in time she could send for Mikah—
No, she must not think about Mikah, who had hugged her stiffly as she was led away in chains, and tried to pretend his eyes were not filling with tears. He had made a sensible choice. He would do well with the raiders, she was sure, and would forget her soon enough. She brushed away a tear angrily. No crying! She had never been one to cry. She had endured worse than this, she would get through it and there would be something better in the future. A small house, a servant or two, good food with plenty of fruit, warm and juicy from the sun, some jewels… She would not cry, she was a princess, she would not cry.
As they settled down on their pallets for the last time, Zarin said to the Lath, “Perhaps a contemplation before we try to sleep?”
“No religious shit,” Garrett said loudly.
The room fell into silence.
~~~~~
The slaver’s ship was not as uncomfortable as Shakara had feared. The five of them were given a large cabin to share, with two wide beds and several hammocks. Shakara and Dru shared one bed, and Zarin and the priest the other. Garrett seemed content to swing about in a hammock suspended from the roof beams.
“It rocks me to sleep,” he said, grinning. “I couldn’t be more comfortable up there.”
For meals, they ate with the slaver and three of his juniors, two of them men of similar appearance to the slaver himself, and the third a woman of fearsomely muscular proportions. The three crew from their previous ship, and a number of others also to be sold as slaves, were kept in the hold, and ate meals with the slaver’s crew, but the slaver had determined that their group was of a higher rank, and merited special treatment. It amused him to hear tales of their previous pampered lives. “All gone now, eh?” he would say, shaking with laughter.
Shakara had no objection to that. She had learned how to beguile at an early age, and it was a long voyage, there was time to work on the men. Or the woman, too, if need be. She was adaptable. She would have liked clean clothes and a bath, but otherwise she had no complaints.
“So where is the big slave market these days?” Garrett asked at one meal, when the slaver had imbibed a full jug of wine and was nicely mellow. “Where are you taking us?”
“Mesanthia,” the slaver said. “Oh, not officially, of course. Nothing is public, especially since the new Keeper took over. The old slave arena has dramatic performances and wild beast displays these days. But my contacts there will buy you from me, and then sell you on as bonded servants. Although these days the black triangle to the east is becoming a bigger market for young, healthy specimens. I shall probably start trading there in a year or two, now that Mesanthia is more difficult. And that is enough chatter. Stronn, take them back below.”
Once they were safely locked into their cabin, Garrett said, “Well, that is good news. Mesanthia will do very well.”
“What difference does it make?” Shakara said. “A slave is a slave, wherever it might be.” She moved aside for Dru to climb into bed, fully dressed – it was impossible to undress while wearing manacles, quite apart from the awkwardness of sharing a cabin.
“Mesanthia is a big city, for one thing,” Garrett said, sitting down on the floor, his back resting against the men’s bed. “More opportunities to disappear. Slavery is technically illegal, so no one can force us to wear shackles all the time. It shouldn’t be too difficult to escape.”
“I have a friend in Mesanthia,” Zarin said. “At the Academia – the great library there.” He and the priest were sitting on the edge of the bed, opposite Shakara.
“There you are,” Garrett said with a self-satisfied smirk. “That makes it easy. We just have to find this friend, and he will help us.”
“You know nothing about it,” Shakara said. “Do you really think we are going to be given comfortable, easy work, like servants? You think I will be a maid for a great lady, perhaps, and you will be a guard. Zarin will be a secretary, and we will all be well-fed and bathe in rose-scented pools every day and walk unfettered around the streets like everyone else? You have no idea. Slaves are kept to do the worst kinds of jobs, digging tunnels or carrying stones for building or repairing roads. They are locked up in rat-infested basements, and fed on dry bread and cheese rinds. If they fail to work hard enough, they are flogged. If they try to escape, a foot will be cut off.”
“That is not what I have heard,” Zarin said.
“Then you have heard wrong.”
“And how exactly do you know this?” Garrett said. “Did you keep slaves, when you were queen of your desert tribe?”
“The Maz-Harn is not a desert tribe,” she said, with dignity. “I am from the Thar-briana hills, and I was a princess, not a queen. Nor did we keep any slaves there. It was the other way round—”
She bit her lip. That was a stupid slip. She had told no one her true history, not even the Lady, although she had seemed to guess something of it. Zarin showed no sign of understanding, but Garrett… he was too astute, sometimes.
His eyes narrowed. “You were taken as a slave?”
Well, there was no harm in it now. Once they were all sold, they would never see each other again, and perhaps it would help them to realise what they were facing. “Slavers came down from Drakk-alona and raided our villages. They took girls, mostly, although a few boys too. That is how I found myself in a brothel at the age of ten.”
Even Garrett was silent for once.
“It seems likely to be my destiny again,” Shakara went on. “That would have been Mikah’s fate, too, I daresay, but happily he is spared that nightmare. He seemed determined to stay with me, until he talked to you, Garrett. I have no idea what you said to him, but for once in your life you have achieved some good.”
“I told him what an evil bastard I am,” Garrett said with a shrug.
“Really?” Shakara began to laugh. “And he believed you? Because I have been trying to convince him of that for ever, but he would never have it. He thought the sun shone from your eyes, truly.”
“I can’t imagine why. I’ve never pretended to be anything I’m not. Half the Keep thought I was the Lady’s pet assassin, and I’ve never corrected that impression. The other half knows I cheat at bones, given the opportunity. And I
’ve screwed my way through most of the servant population at the Keep. Yet the poor misguided child called me a good person.”
The priest leaned forward. “It is because he knows who you are.”
“Who I am? What’s that supposed to mean?”
“He knows about his parentage,” the priest said, rubbing his head, a sure sign that he was nervous. But then he was nervous about so many things.
“His—? But—?”
“He knows that you are his father?”
“He—? Oh, for fuck’s sake! Where did he get such a ridiculous idea from? And how do you know about it?”
“Mikah used to come to the seminary,” the priest said, hands flapping. “He came for reflection once every moon, and I was privileged to hear his thoughts a few times. He talked a great deal about his father. He was very proud to be your son.”
“Well, he’s even more of an idiot than I thought,” Garrett said. “Shakara, did you know about this?”
She lifted a shoulder indifferently. “Who knows what the boy thinks? I am his mother, I would be the last to know.”
“By all the gods, woman!” Garrett cried. “You let him think I was his father? Why? Why would you do such a cruel thing?”
She exhaled sharply. Gods, but the man was irritating! “Because it was better than telling him the truth, that I had been owned by a fat merchant, who bought me from a brothel and whored me out to his trading partners to seal his business deals. That I was abandoned, pregnant and friendless, in Bennamore, and imprisoned for trying to earn some money for food. That I had to trick Rythin into marrying me, just to survive. You think I should tell him all that? Well?”
Garrett said nothing, raising his hands in surrender.
“So I made you up. Well, I invented a father for Mikah – a respectable father, someone I had known in Bennamore, a swordsman. And when you turned up, naturally he assumed…”
“But why didn’t you at least tell him I wasn’t his father?”
Another sigh. Why were men so stupid? “Because it got rid of Rythin,” she said patiently. “You have no idea how much I put up with from that man.”
“He was a very good husband,” the priest said reprovingly. “He gave you a home, respectability, shelter.”
“Yes, and he told me so every single day,” she hissed. “Have you any idea what it is like, you supercilious man, to be expected to be grateful constantly? Whatever debt I owed Rythin was repaid long ago. Indeed, I believe the debt was more on his side than mine, for he was in deeper trouble than I was. Even so, he never stopped expecting me to kneel at his feet, to humble myself. As if I needed a man to make me respectable! Ha!”
The priest flushed red to the roots of his hair, and mumbled something unintelligible.
“So when Garrett arrived,” she went on, “and he fitted the image of my invented lover so perfectly, I thought – why not? Mikah will realise that the father he idolised is nothing but an insect crawling in the dirt, and Rythin – finally I could be rid of Rythin. Although even then, he whined at me the whole time. It is deeply wearing, let me tell you. But at least I was free of my shackles.”
She laughed at the irony of her words, rattling the chains connecting her wrists. Zarin rolled his eyes at her, and the priest avoided her gaze. He was easily embarrassed, that one, considering how much he must have heard from people’s reflections. But he was not comfortable around women. Around Shakara, anyway. Only Garrett laughed in companionable sympathy.
“Well, we are all shackled now,” he said easily. “We will get rid of them at Mesanthia, no doubt.”
“What happened to your great plan to get us out of here?” Shakara said.
“Ah, well, I had a problem with that. The slaver is a bit of a gambling man, and that’s something that I might be able to take advantage of. However, my approaches so far have been unsuccessful.”
“They do not wish to allow you to play?”
“Oh, they’d let me in, all right. But I have to bring something to the game – something to gamble with. Once I’m in, I can win enough to keep going, but I have to bring my initial bones. I have no coin, no jewels, no knife. Kestimar even took my boots.” He wiggled his bare toes. “I have the clothes on my back, which are worth virtually nothing, and myself.”
“Yourself?” Zarin said.
“My body, friend. I wouldn’t hesitate if it were the woman I’d end up with, but if it were one of the men…”
“We could offer them the priest, if they’re that way inclined,” Shakara said, which made Garrett rock with laughter.
The priest and Zarin both spluttered.
“Do not fear, I am not serious,” she said. “But Garrett, can you really get us out of this mess? Even if you win, will he set us free?”
“So Tella said. And when I talked to the slaver about it, he seemed to suggest it was possible. He’s an expert, I’m sure, so it won’t be easy, but I’m confident I can do it.”
“By cheating,” Zarin said scornfully.
“I do cheat, yes,” Garrett said. “Sometimes, when I have to. But I know how to hide it, and mostly I’m good enough not to need to.”
“So modest,” Zarin said.
“This is not the time for false modesty, or hubris, either. I can get us off this boat and free again, but I have to work up my courage to offer myself as a bargaining piece. It’s difficult for me to suppress my natural preference for the female form.”
“There is another alternative,” Shakara said slowly.
“No. Absolutely not.”
“Why not? I would not mind too much. The slaver – well, he is not a handsome man, but he is not repulsive. The other two – really, Garrett, I have lain down with worse. And if it would get us off this ship, it would be worth it.”
“I wouldn’t have you forced to do this, Shakara,” Garrett said quietly. “It’s wrong.” A hesitation. “Haven’t you done enough whoring in your life?”
Shakara raised her eyebrows. Who would have suspected the man had such scruples?
“But you were planning to do it yourself. There is no difference. Besides, if I end up a slave, I will be expected to lie down with any man my owner chooses. If Lath Ambattan will forgive my blunt speech, I have no objection to whoring myself, so long as the benefits come to me and not someone else. Sex is just another commodity, like… like boots, or coin. And let us be quite honest – I enjoy it, you know. The brothel taught me a great deal.”
Garrett eyed her thoughtfully. She wondered what was going on behind his cool exterior. She had never spoken quite so openly before, and few people knew about her time in the brothels, or the merchant. Not even Rythin knew the full story. One or two of the other stewards at the Keep, sympathetic women of her own age, knew part of it. But most people saw, not the fragile woman inside, but only the carefully constructed outer shell. She tried to project an image of dignified independence, but there were times when she felt as if she had not a single friend in the world.
When Garrett had arrived at the Keep, another lost soul looking for a place to rest and recover, she had truly believed she had met the man who could thaw her heart and bring her peace. A man who could love her for herself, and ask nothing in return. But he had never looked twice at her, had made it perfectly clear he despised her, and she had learnt to despise him, too. But perhaps there was more to him than the barbarous exterior suggested.
“I will put the proposal to the slaver,” Garrett said. “And now, perhaps we should be in bed, too.”
They shuffled about, manacles clanking. Garrett hoisted himself agilely into his hammock, using hand-holds and foot-holds in the built-in lockers lining the walls. Shakara slid under the thin blanket beside Dru, and the two men clambered into their bed. Zarin blew out the candle.
It was a little while before Shakara settled down to sleep. So much to think over, to fret about. Perhaps Garrett really could pull off this game of his. He was a dreadful cheat, everyone said so, but it was not so bad if he cheated for a good purpose.
That was permissible, surely, like whoring her way to freedom.
When her eyes grew heavy, she rolled onto her side, but when she tried to pull the blanket over her, it would not move. Dru must have wrapped it right round herself. Shakara gave the blanket a sharp tug. It shifted a little, but still did not come free. Another, harder, pull. This time it loosened, and she curled up in it, satisfied.
From above, Garrett’s voice had an edge of shock. “Drusinaar? What’s going on?”
Shakara turned, alarmed. From Dru’s side of the bed, emanating from somewhere around her stomach, an unearthly glow lit the cabin almost as bright as day.
13: The Captain's Cabin (Garrett)
I scrambled out of the hammock, and slithered to the floor. “Drusinaar, what is that light?”
“No light,” she answered, and it was true, the light was gone, plunging us back into darkness.
“Zarin, the candle, if you please,” I said.
It took him an age to find everything and get a flame going again, but eventually we had a wavering light.
“Now then, Drusinaar, you can explain to me what that light was and how you were making it.”
The silence stretched out. Beyond the cabin, I heard the sailors on deck making their hourly calls, and the constant creak and rattle and groan of the ship as it made its serene way onwards. I waited for the others to say something, but Shakara was huddled up, eyes wide with fear, as far from from Drusinaar as she could get. Zarin just looked bewildered. He’d been deep asleep. The priest – well, when did he ever have anything sensible to say? It was down to me, it seemed.
“Drusinaar, no one is angry with you, but that light was very strange and a little bit frightening. We need to know how it happened so that…” I stopped. What could we do? If she was producing flames again, there wasn’t much to be done about it. “So that we understand it better,” I finished lamely.
The Dragon's Egg Page 12
