Serpent Catch: Book Two of the Serpent Catch Series

by David Farland

  Scandal looked at Tull and Ayuvah, shook the wine bottle at them, as if making a generous offer. “How about it, boys? A chance to see Denai at the height of its decadence? Give them another hundred years, and they won’t have anyone left in the Rough to take slave. The inns will go downhill then.”

  Tull’s mouth felt dry. Truly, Phylomon did not need help stealing a wagon, but Scandal would need help with the boat. He was nothing but a fat old innkeeper, a weak human.

  “I’ll come with you,” Tull said, as he rolled up a bear hide and tucking it in his pack.

  “You aren’t afraid?” Phylomon asked. “The place has great kwea for the Pwi.”

  “I’m going because I am afraid,” Tull said. He looked to Ayuvah, but knew that his brother would not go to Denai. He’d follow Phylomon into the wilderness.

  Phylomon said, “I told you earlier that men always seek danger for entertainment. Even you seek the face of the God of Terror. Do me a favor, when you see him, spit in his eye.”

  Ayuvah sat on a log, despondent. Tull hugged him and said, “You’ll be all right.”

  Ayuvah looked up, his orange hair blowing in the wind, his pale blue eyes squinting. “Those who enter Craal find themselves in bondage to Adjonai, and he controls their lives forever after. They can never free themselves, and happiness eludes them, like the magic plums in Carza’s orchard that always bob just out of reach.”

  “Some escape. You have seen the Okanjara. They escaped.”

  “But they are not happy,” Ayuvah countered. “Do you not see how Adjonai draws you toward your destruction? I would not go to Denai for any reward. Let Scandal go alone. He can sail to Castle Rock by himself!”

  “What if he wrecks the boat on the rocks when the gravitational winds blow wild?” Tull said. “We’d have no one then who could go into the city and steal a boat. He needs my strength.”

  “That only sounds like a reason,” Ayuvah countered. “Do you not see how step by step we have failed on this journey? Little Chaa is dead, Wisteria is dead, and now you walk into Denai. You think you go to Denai to confront your fear, but it is the voice of Adjonai whispering to you. He draws you to your destruction.”

  “Your father would not have sent me here,” Tull said, “if that were true.”

  “My father sent Little Chaa to die. You do not know his plans.”

  Tull considered. “His plans will work out for good in the end.”

  “But perhaps not for your good, or mine,” Ayuvah said.

  Tull put his arm around Ayuvah. “I keep feeling that if I turn a corner or look into the shadows, I will see Wisteria there. It is as if her spirit is close by. Love makes us that way, binds us close together. In a few weeks, we will be back safe in Smilodon Bay. You will sit with Etanai and Sava, and you will be happy. Don’t be afraid. Even if death takes us, it cannot separate us.”

  He hugged Ayuvah and Phylomon goodbye.

  Without the heavy wagon, it was an easy walk to Denai. Scandal carried his wine and drank as he went, while Tull followed a few paces behind, eyes lowered, the way that a slave should.

  They trailed the river down from the hills to see the city spread before them three miles distant. Close by lay myriads of farms and orchards, stretching like a green carpet to the city, and then to the sea beyond.

  To the east, a great stone hill was painted bright colors, as if it were a building itself, and beneath lay Denai—a gleaming dusty conglomeration of board shacks stacked one against another, punctuated by green fairy castles of Benbow glass, all spires and minarets.

  Rumor said that there were a hundred thousand people below, but a cloud of fine gray dust and smoke rose from the city, obscuring all detail, so that the city twinkled like cut glass under a veil of gauze.

  Scandal gestured toward the mountain with his wine bottle. He seemed unsteady on his feet, and spoke too loudly. “Ayaah, those castles look pretty, but up on Painted Mountain, that’s where the money-people live. Pirate Lords been living it up there for eight hundred years. And there—” Scandal pointed to where the mountains met the sea, to a tiny yellow gleam like a diamond, “is where they keep their laser cannons.”

  Tull studied the outpost, trying to make out the deadly artifacts.

  “We’ll never get a good look from up here,” Scandal urged, and so they descended toward the valley.

  When they began passing farms, Tull and Scandal found several Thrall children playing upon a small hill, sliding down a steep cliff upon their bellies. The children laughed and whooped, just as children would in Smilodon Bay.

  Scandal kept guzzling from his wine bottle, as if it and it alone gave him the courage to walk into this city of legendary evil.

  A mile down the road, the farms ended. Between two low hills ran a long black wall like the one that the Starfarers had built around Smilodon Bay. A small army was camped along the hills within the gates, perhaps two thousand men. At the gate a dozen strong young Neanderthal guards wore red capes and lacquered leather armor, black with silver trim. Each guard held a broadsword sheathed upon one hip, a whip strapped to the other. Each wore a necklace with a white disk.

  Scandal said quietly, “Blade Kin.”

  Tull glanced up at a sign above the gate and stopped. It read, “Oppression Gate.”

  “Papers,” one Blade Kin asked Scandal, urging him forward. Scandal reached into the inner pocket of his tunic and produced his forged documents.

  “Security seems heavy today,” Scandal mused. The comment set Tull on edge. How would Scandal know if the guard was heavy or not?

  “Hukm raided a small fortress,” the Blade Kin said, glancing at the papers, “so we’ve doubled the guard.” He touched the white disk on his neck. “Two in at Oppression Gate. Theron Scandal and one slave, minions of Lord Tantos.”

  It did not escape Tull that no one even bothered to give the name of a nonhuman slave.

  “Entrance registered,” the disk replied. “Greet the minions of the esteemed Lord Tantos, and bid them welcome to Denai.”

  It seemed so easy to get in, that Tull marveled. But a thought struck him, an old Pwi proverb, “Getting into hell may be easy. Escape may be impossible.”

  ***

  Chapter 27: The Goddess of Denai

  Tull and Scandal entered the city of Denai, passing through the makeshift barracks filled with Blade Kin warriors. They passed factories filled with women and children who sewed cloth all day, factories where young men melted ore into ingots of steel, factories where Thralls built wagon wheels. The ground was muddy, trampled by a thousand feet, and woodsmoke filled the air.

  As they entered into the heart of that dark, grimy city, Tull found more Thrall Blade Kin in their black armor upon nearly every street, watching every alley, stationed at every factory door.

  This was a city at war, not with others, but with itself.

  No one dared look upon these warriors. Instead the Thralls averted their eyes, or gazed past them as if the Blade Kin did not exist.

  Large gray clouds began to blow in from the ocean, and a gusty wind kicked up, then a cold rain came thundering down in heavy drops.

  Tull and Scandal rushed along the streets, stopping here and there for shelter under the lee of a building, until they rounded a corner and came upon a street filled with cages.

  The wind was cold, and a frigid rain swept in off the ocean, yet within the cages were Thralls, hundreds of ragged women, four to a cage.

  Two humans in flashy garments paced the cages, gauging the wares. One man wore a white fur jacket and yellow leggings; the other wore a long coat made of purpled leather and a cap that looked like an owl swooping in for the kill.

  Scandal pointed at the men and began to chuckle drunkenly at their attire but soon stopped when four Blade Kin opened a cage and shredded the clothes of a young girl, a rare blonde Pwi, perhaps fourteen.

  She shouted for help and tried to ward the freezing rain off with her hands, but dared not strike the Blade Kin.

  Tull starte
d to rush to her aid, but Scandal grabbed him by the jacket, and suddenly seemed sober. “No sense in getting yourself killed,” Scandal said, pulling Tull back. “And get the anger out of your eyes! People see that, and you won’t last a day in this town.”

  “But she’ll freeze!” Tull said.

  “Not tonight!” Scandal said. “She’s property, and she’s a pretty one. You wouldn’t let a cow freeze. You don’t let a slave freeze. See!”

  The fellow in white pulled the naked girl from the cage, turned her in circles to admire her. He put his hand to her breast, and the girl cried out. Scandal said, “Ayaah, she’ll be plenty warm tonight, I tell you. I’ve seen that look in men’s eyes too often.…”

  A Blade Kin ran to a pile of blankets in mid-street and wrapped the girl. The human with the owl cap counted coins into the hands of the seller.

  Scandal stared at the slavers, at the naked girl. He took the wine bottle from his coat pocket, guzzled the last of it, and tossed the bottle in the street. “I tell you, Tull,” he said. “I’ve never needed a whore like I need one now. You’ve been playing the part of the bull so much, you probably haven’t noticed how I’ve suffered.”

  Tull said, “We’re supposed to steal us a boat tonight.”

  “Plenty of time for that tomorrow. Phylomon won’t reach Castle Rock for ten days, and we can sail there in two. No, I’ve got a thousand silver eagles in my moneybags, and they say that tonight, I’m going to have me a shower, a decent meal, and some women. Not necessarily in that order. Come on!”

  “Where are we going?” Tull asked.

  “To find an inn I once heard of. It’s a big place, one of the castles.”

  Tull wondered if he should try to force Scandal to act more reasonably, to argue or drag him to the docks and get a boat, but the Blade Kin were everywhere, and he dared not forget to act his part as a slave.

  In another five minutes, the rain let up as suddenly as it had come, leaving the streets a veritable puddle of mud. Everywhere, shanties were filled with Thralls in gray rags, but Tull and Scandal came to a corner they spotted an inn down the street, a great crystal structure.

  “That’s the one!” Scandal yelled, hurrying toward it.

  To Tull, the building looked like some Slave Lord’s demesne, but as they got close he saw that it was indeed an inn, the Crystal Palace.

  Though the wind was chill, circling the castle were two great walls made of thin Benbow glass, forming a cage, and within the cage were beasts from Hotland: small pterodons the size of eagles soared through giant fern trees, a forty-foot long tyrannosaurus stalked the jungle. Green hot pools bubbled from the ground, heating the giant terrarium.

  Outside the castle a human dressed in a coat made of yellow-and-black butterfly wings rang a bell and shouted over and over, “Come see the tyrannosaurus battle ferocious giant sloths, tonight. The fight of the decade!”

  Scandal looked at the tyrannosaurus rex and laughed, “By God, boy, we can’t leave before tonight, that is sure,” and they entered the castle.

  He staggered at the front step and nearly fell, but Tull caught him by elbow. A passerby, a young man, saw the move, and glanced at Tull, eyes flashing in outrage, but apparently he decided that it was not illegal for a Pwi slave to keep a drunken master from taking a spill.

  Within the castle was a great open courtyard where dozens of Thralls scrubbed the floors. There were gambling tables for cards and dice, a fighting arena with sands red with blood. Two Thralls with spears practiced their swings, but Tull saw no sign of guests.

  Along one wall, water from the hot springs bubbled into a great tank like a giant aquarium, and the water was far deeper than Tull was tall. At the top of the tank, in a landscape of giant ferns and rock, a pterodon preened itself by a small cave large enough for a dinosaur to hide in.

  Beside the water tank was a desk, and Scandal went to the Thrall clerk. “I hear you breed your whores for beauty,” Scandal said, “and the ugly ones are smothered as babes. I want one of them.” He thought for a moment, his face twisting in confusion, then added, “I want, er, a pretty one.”

  The clerk glanced at Scandal disdainfully, gauged his clothing. “We have the most beautiful whores in the world here at the Crystal Palace, friend, but I don’t think you can afford one.”

  “How much are they?” Scandal asked eagerly. He actually whirled about in a circle, craning his neck. “Where are they?”

  “Three hundred silver eagles for the night,” the Thrall answered. Scandal pulled out his money bag, set it on the table with a satisfying “clink.”

  The Thrall added, “And another hundred for a room.”

  With that display of wealth, Tull felt surprised that the prices didn’t go higher. He suspected that given a few moments, they would.

  “Fine, let me see one of yer girls!” Scandal said.

  The Thrall hefted the bag suspiciously, looked inside. Once satisfied, with a mallet, he tapped the side of the water tank, and just above them a woman exited the cave.

  She wore a black cotton bikini, tastefully studded with diamond, and her raven-dark hair fell down to her waist. She was tall and long of leg, and her muscles were exquisitely firm and strong, while her breasts were generous but not overpowering.

  “As you can see, Friend,” the Thrall said, “her body is sculpted in the finest tradition. She is as strong as a Pwi, and can be as feisty as a bobcat or as playful and cuddly as a kitten. She is trained in all the most … private of arts. Do you approve of her?”

  Tull marveled. With hair that dark, the woman had to be human. Tull had imagined that slavers would have used only Pwi like this.

  The woman dropped into the pool and gracefully swam to the desk, completely underwater. Freed from gravity, her breasts buoyed up. She struck a pose, one hand raised dramatically over her face, as if she feared rejection.

  “She’s beautiful!” Scandal exclaimed. “So beautiful!” He merely stood for a long moment, lost in wonder, until Tull began to worry that he had fallen asleep.

  “Sir?” the Thrall began. “Three hundred eagles?”

  Scandal’s breathing had quickened, now he stepped back in dismay. “No,” he said. “No, I couldn’t. It was worth the trip just to see …” His eyes drew wide and a tear came to them. “Who could dare touch such a goddess? Who could have her?”

  “You can have her for the night,” the Thrall said. “She is costly, but well worth the price. And she’s not … how should I say it, too particular.”

  Scandal shook his head. “No. No one should ever touch her. No one should sully such a creature.”

  He hefted his money bag, weighed it in the hand, and then sauntered back to the muddy streets, as he did so, he took on a jaunty step, and Tull realized that the innkeeper hadn’t come to purchase companionship at all. Instead, he’d come for something else.… Perhaps to simply insult the inhabitants of Denai, to reject their finest?

  Tull wondered if the wine had somehow impaired Scandal’s judgment. Scandal reached into his pack, pulled out a second bottle, and guzzled half of it on the spot. He stood for a moment, teetering slightly. The smell of wine nearly seemed to boil off him like vapors, and Tull was growing alarmed.

  There was something odd about the way that Scandal squinted around, with a sort of glib superiority, as if with a glare he was saying, “All my life I’ve been afraid of you people, and now that I see you, let’s fight.” Anger twisted Scandal’s lips.

  A heavy-set woman passed them in company with a beautiful girl. The woman wore a cape made of peacock feathers, and crystals dripped from her ears, dazzling in the sunlight. The daughter wore a dress the color of mother of pearl that flashed and reflected off the pools in the muddy street. Tull had never seen that color of white, not even upon a snowy egret.

  Scandal whistled at the women. “How do you like that fat one? Did you ever see people who were so clean? You could boil me down to the bones in bathwater and I’d never come so clean.”

  Tull nodded. The
humans walked over the muddy ground as if it were an art, never besmudging their slippers.

  “Ayaah,” Scandal said. “Throw them in with the hogs, and the mud wouldn’t stick. Tull, I think I’m under-dressed. Maybe I should buy some sillier clothes.”

  But instead of looking for a clothier, he turned and began dogging the two women.

  “Have you noticed how rotten the people around here are?” Scandal said loudly. Tull had not thought about it, but aside from the whore, all the humans they’d seen were well fed.

  The peacock woman turned to glare at Scandal, and he shot her a leering smile and bowed.

  The women quickened their pace.

  Scandal hurried to follow.

  “Don’t let them see you laughing at them,” Scandal whispered angrily to Tull. “It’s illegal for a Thrall to laugh at a human.”

  The women were fairly running now, and the lady in the peacock suit glanced over her shoulder at Scandal.

  “Madam,” Scandal called helpfully, “your dress is getting too tight—skin another duck!”

  She rounded on him then, “Friend, who are you?” she asked, straightening her hair, her jowls quivering.

  Tull noted that the local called everyone “friend,” here in this city where no one could be your friend.

  “Scandal the Gourmet, world’s finest holistic chef,” Scandal said, bowing low.

  “Hah! Scandal the Gourmand is more like it.” She pulled her peacock robe tight around her. “If you were my slave, I’d have your tongue out and wriggling on the floor in a minute.”

  “Ah, I perceive that you are a Dicton, and you use your superior vocabulary to shame me,” Scandal said drunkenly. “Ayaah, you got all the genes for brains and none for beauty. Why, if your face were a cloth in a toiletry, I wouldn’t wipe my butt with it.” The fat woman gasped. “Your daughter now, well, she’s got my attention. You’d better castrate your manservants and make sure your husband doesn’t spend time with her alone.”