It was a lie.
She set to beating his back with renewed vigor.
The man set her feet on the ground and, taking hold of her shoulders, he shook her until her eyeballs hurt.
"Listen to me," he said. "You have to be quiet. You'll bring the troopers down on us. What made you run back to the slave market?"
She stared, trying to focus her blurry vision.
Holding her with one hand, he removed his cloak and threw it over her shoulders. "Pull the hood up, and walk with me. Quietly. Or we'll both meet the swingman before the week is out."
She stared at him, weighing her options. That's when she saw the sky blue eyes and the scar above one eyebrow—he had been working on the wagon that blocked the alley. He wasn't a trooper, then.
She pulled the cloak shut to cover her robe.
They wound their way through alleys, slipping from shadow to shadow. At busy streets the man peeked around corners, studying the traffic for signs of troopers before quickly leading her across, back into the relative safety of the dim alleyways. She followed along quietly, hoping more than believing that he was trustworthy, and memorizing every turn, every block, every alley. If she had to run again, she'd not run back to the slave market.
She kept an eye on the buildings, too, wanting to see them get smaller. Looking for the city wall. But they were still surrounded by ice towers, when her guide stopped at the back alley entrance of one. She leaned back, peering up, trying to count the stories on the structure. A flag, with a red background and an orange triangle in the middle, waved from a flagpole at the top of the building.
The man knocked on the door, and a moment later a small slave woman let them in.
Thick carpets, fine tapestries, and the slave's purple satin dress, attested to the wealth of the house. The woman opened a door off the hall and ushered them into a great room, the size of which astounded Repentance.
In the swamp she had lived in a cave with several rooms, so she had grown up with sleeping quarters of her own. Others had considered her family rich, and they were, by village standards. It never occurred to her, though, that anyone would live in a house with rooms the size of her entire village center.
The high ceiling was hung with cloths, like clouds, which glowed with the same kind of yellow light she'd seen in the bowl lamp that morning. A slight hum came from them. The carpet radiated heat. The ice walls were carved and painted—full of pictures. Repentance, without really looking, vaguely registered pictures of meadows with streams, overlord hunting parties mounted on yaks, and portraits of regal overlord women and men.
The old slave woman led them across the room, in the center of which stood a table, twenty feet long, made out of a honey-colored wood and shining like a reflecting stone. Tall vases of flowers sat at both ends and in the center of the table. At the far end of the room a fire blazed. In front of the fireplace sat a grouping of chairs and settees. It was to that end of the room that the slave led Repentance and her rescuer ... captor ... the man.
Another man, sitting in front of the fire, looked up from a book he was reading, a smile on his face.
Repentance gasped as she took in the tan breeches and pale green eyes. It was the lecherous Lord Carrull from the slave dock.
The man who acts without considering the effects of his actions on others, ends life alone and never understands why. "I never hurt a soul," says he. "I simply tended to my own pursuits—minded my own business." But all along behind him, people lie bleeding—trampled 'neath the boots of his ambition.
~Kindness Firtree, Meditations on the Precepts
Chapter 9
The man focused his gaze on Repentance and shot from his chair. "What have you done?" he shouted.
At Lord Carrull's fierce glare, Repentance stepped back and crossed her arms in front of her chest.
He wore the same clothes he had worn at the slave market, but he didn't look like the same man. He wasn't giggling, for one thing. His face was red with rage. "What is this about, Dagg?"
"It's not my fault." Dagg started frantically patting Repentance's hair back into place.
She ducked out from under his hands. He was no rescuer. He was a kidnapper, delivering her to the lecherous Lord Carrull.
"She ran away from the troopers," he said. "Ran back to the slave market! Like a demon. I almost didn't get her at all. But she's fine. Just looks a bit rough. Nothing a bath and a new gown won't cure."
"Not her! Not her!" Lord Carrull yelled. "You weren't supposed to bring her."
"You told me to bring her. The girl in the robe."
"Scarlet, I said. Are you color blind? This girl is wearing maroon."
The rescuer, or rather the kidnapper, studied her robe, a confused look on his face. "But you never even looked at the other girl. This one here is the one you liked."
Anger burned in Lord Carrull's eyes. "You do not show a great interest in the object you plan to steal. Not if you have a trickle of sense."
Dagg worked his jaw, but no sound came out.
Repentance took the opportunity to jump into the conversation. "Since I'm not the one you want, I'll leave you to your business."
"You stay where you are." Lord Carrull sank into his chair. Then, looking at Dagg, he said, "Go see Compassion in the kitchen. Tell her to feed you. I need time to think."
Nodding and bobbing apologetically, Dagg scuttled out.
Lord Carrull turned toward the fire, leaned over, and rested his head in his hands.
Repentance took a couple of silent steps backward toward the door.
"Sit down and let me think for a minute," Lord Carrull said, patting the seat beside him.
"I'm comfortable where I am." She would sooner sit next to a muckback snake that hadn't eaten in two weeks.
"Sit!"
She jumped.
And she sat.
In the chair farthest from him.
She looked at the rich furnishings. A wooden table in a city that had no trees. And flowers. It must have cost a bucket of beads to have them brought up the mountain. So, if Lord Carrull was so rich, why would he steal slave girls? But Madam Cawrocc had intimated that he didn't have much money.
"When did you last eat?"
She jerked at his question. "Not counting the potato water they gave me this morning, it's been two days."
"I'll have dinner brought."
"I'd rather join Compassion and Dagg in the kitchen, if you don't mind," Repentance said.
"Stay where you are." His voice was firm—gone was the silly man who had stood on the slave dock a few hours earlier. This man was not one to simper and be led around by the likes of Madam Cawrocc.
A few minutes later, Compassion set a dinner plate on the small table beside Repentance. Lord Carrull brushed her off when she asked if he'd like a dish, too. He stared moodily into the fire while Repentance ate. There was some kind of meat she'd never eaten before. It tasted something like lizard—brown and tender and juicy. A mound of boiled potatoes and gravy snuggled up to the meat on her plate but not for long. She ate with gusto, washing the lot down with the same cold, milky beverage the slavers had given her on the trip up the mountain.
When she was done, Compassion took her dinner plate and set a steaming berry brick in its place. "Fresh from the oven," she said, as she slathered thick cream over the flaky crust.
Rich. Ripe. Really, really good. The sweet berries slid down like fruity velvet.
Repentance finished and sat back sipping from a cup of hot coffee, satisfied, for the moment, to stare into the fire and wait for Lord Carrull to explain himself. There was nothing else to do at present. She might as well enjoy her full stomach.
She wasn't greedy. She didn't need riches. She didn't need power or beads or clothes or jewels. She would be content with a good meal every now and again. Was it such an evil thing for her to think she deserved to eat as well as the overlord masters?
The back of her neck prickled and the fine hair there stood up. She looked over to find L
ord Carrull studying her.
"You've had enough?" he asked.
"Yes, thank you."
He raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Such manners."
She shrugged. "My future is no more grim than three hours ago, and my stomach is full, which is more than I ever expected. So, yes, I thank you. We lowborns know how to give thanks when it is due, unlike you overlords who take what is not yours and offer no thanks for it at all."
Lord Carrull sighed. "A fine speech. I do hope you learn to shut up, though. Else you'll not live long here on the mountain. And you're wrong, of course, to think your future is not more grim than a few hours ago. Your situation is quite grave."
Her heart skipped a beat, then set to rat-a-tat-tatting like a woodpecker. "If you let me go I'll run away, and the prince will never know you took me. I'm not going back to tell on you."
"You belong to Jadin, and I have to return you. There is no other way."
Repentance thought of what waited for her in Jadin's keep. Death if she was lucky. If not that, then down to the hot springs she would go. Down to the fog. Down to the humiliation. Down to await the overlord prince.
No, she had no desire to go back. Better to stay with Lord Carrull. A rich house. Fine food. A master with a guilty and dangerous secret she could exploit. "I can stay here," she said. "I'll never go out of the house, and no one will ever know you took me."
Lord Carrull looked on her with disgust. "You would stay, wouldn't you? Selfish child."
Her mouth fell open in shock. "You keep slaves. You steal slaves. And you call me selfish?"
"You may hate me all you like, but you have your own sins to answer for. You had no pity for the young man you were supposed to button. No pity for his family, either. Or your own family, for that matter."
Repentance winced.
"Yes, you have so far proven to be a headstrong, selfish girl. And now you want to hide here instead of going back to do your duty."
Repentance couldn't believe what she was hearing. "You think I have a duty to give myself as a concubine to your filthy prince?" He could kill her for all she cared. She would never agree that she had a duty to serve the overlords.
"You have a duty to your family." His eyes were hard—angry. "If you do not go to Jadin, your entire family is forfeit."
She stared without seeing him, her mind clicking through all she'd seen and heard since she came up the mountain. The slaver had said something when they first pulled into the square at the slave market. He'd said they caught the runners and hurt them. And something else. She hadn't really heard him properly. All sound had been drowned out by the deafening drip of blood on ice. She cast her mind back. He's said something about taking the runners' families into service.
That's why Jadin had been so interested in her sister. Comfort would be the compensation if Repentance ran.
She sank back into her chair.
"You didn't realize," Lord Carrull said softly. "I'm sorry. I misjudged you."
She didn't answer. They were going to take Comfort? Oh, holy Providence.
"I'm afraid you must go back," he said. "We have no other choice."
She stirred. "If I go back, my sister will be safe?"
"I think I can convince Cawrocc to say nothing of this event. But I need you to swear not to tell anyone you've been here."
"This event ... what is it? Why would you kidnap the other girl and not me? The girl in the scarlet robe?"
"She has no family. When she runs, no one pays."
She shook her head. "Why would someone who kidnaps slaves for ... for ... to be used as concubines care about the families of the girls he steals?"
"I don't kidnap girls to be concubines! That is a part I play. I have a reputation for having a huge appetite for new girls. I buy them and I smuggle them out to other states where they can go free. To Montphilo, first of all. But many move on from there. The Deliverance Day people help me move some."
Repentance studied his eyes. He looked sincere. "So ... there are cities where lowborns walk free?" she whispered.
"But the fancier girls—the ones dressed as you are—I cannot often buy. It isn't that I'm too poor. I have enough beads in my pocket to compete with Jadin. But Jadin will remember you. She studies you all carefully. If I beat her out on too many sales, she would wonder what I was doing with you all. It would bring scrutiny upon the whole undertaking."
"So you steal us instead. You steal girls like me and set us free."
He shook his head sadly. "No Repentance. Not girls like you. I only steal girls with no families. Girls like you, I'm sorry to say, I cannot help."
The yak-drawn carriage wound through the dark streets of Harthill. Repentance didn't open the curtains. She cared nothing for the evil city and had no wish to see any of it. Not the alleys, not the street entertainers, not the hanging frame. She wondered, briefly, if Sober was still tied at the slave dock. Of course not. That was ridiculous. He was on a farm with a fair mistress. She would always picture him, though, as she'd seen him last, tied at the dock but with an earnest look of forgiveness on his face.
He had forgiven her. She didn't know why, but she was grateful for that and happy that he had found a place on a farm. That relieved much guilt, which was good, because when she lay with the disgusting prince, she would have enough shame to deal with.
The driver halted the yak team rather abruptly, jostling Repentance into Lord Carrull. The iron collar the Lord had put around her neck chafed against her skin and the chain, draped down from the collar, clinked against itself with an empty, hopeless sound. One tear escaped and slid down her cheek.
Lord Carrull patted her knee. "Courage, child," he said, "I'll protect you from the worst of it."
He descended the carriage first, holding the chain.
Inside the slave market, a disinterested clerk looked up from his book. His eyes popped wide open at the sight of Repentance.
"I'm here to see Madam Cawrocc," Lord Carrull said.
"Yes, indeed," answered the clerk. "She's in the dining room. Top of the stairs. First door on your right."
"She's dining? Perhaps I'll wait." He had reverted back to the indecisive, weak man Repentance had first taken him for.
"Oh, I shouldn't think so, sir," the clerk answered. "I'm thinking she'll want to be interrupted. In fact, let me lock my desk and I'll escort you."
He smiled greedily, obviously looking forward to Madam Cawrocc's response to their arrival.
Repentance shivered. It seemed she was destined to entertain men one way or another, no matter what she did.
Madam Cawrocc looked up crankily as they entered. When her gaze hit Repentance, she gave only the slightest reaction—a tiny twitch in one eye. She finished chewing, swallowed, and took a long drink from her mug.
"Lord Carrull," she said at last, "what are you doing with my slave?"
He giggled, once again the simpering, lecherous nincompoop. He played the part so well that Repentance, even knowing he was acting, hated him.
"I found your little bird, lost and alone," he said. "And I determined to bring her back to you. I knew you'd be worried about her."
"Do I look worried?"
"You didn't know?" Lord Carrul giggled again. "The troopers who lost her never reported it, eh? They and their families are halfway to Montphilo by now, I'll wager."
Madam Cawrocc gave a look to the clerk who stood at the door. He left quickly, going to send someone to search for the troopers, no doubt.
"Thank you for returning her," Madam Cawrocc said. "Will you stay and share my meat?"
He giggled again. "I was hoping for some little reward. But perhaps something a little more filling than a meal."
"What exactly did you have in mind?"
He pulled Repentance's chain so she had to step next to him. Running one finger over her cheek, he said, "I was sorely tempted to keep this one. Sorely tempted. I only returned her knowing I held your life in my hands. I knew if I didn't return her you'd swing before the week
was out." He smiled sweetly. "So I brought her back to you, convinced you'd be happy to trade her for the other girl. The one in the scarlet robe."
"I'd hardly swing. If you'd have kept her, Jadin would have had to make do with her sister, is all. It would have cost me a few beads refunded and no little amount of embarrassment, I grant you, but that's a far cry from swinging."
He shrugged. "Oh, good great happy day, then." He started to turn. "I'll keep her." He was almost drooling when he looked at Repentance.
"You drive a hard bargain," Madam Cawrocc said. "I'll trade you, you old thief. But not for the girl in the scarlet robe. She's sold."
"Buy her back."
"I won't. You'll have to be satisfied with one of the others."
"I don't want a homely girl," he whined. "I think I deserve a beautiful girl this one time."
"I'll make sure you get a pretty girl."
"I'll keep this one." Lord Carrull made as if to leave.
"Don't be ridiculous. Walk out of here with the prince's girl and your life is forfeit."
"I found her. By law she's mine." He was still whining. "I brought her back as a friendly gesture, but you, Madam, are not being friendly."
Madam Cawrocc stood, her back straight, her jaw clenched, and her eyes filled with hate.
Repentance shrank back.
"Very well," the lady said. "You shall have the girl in the scarlet robe."
She crossed the floor. "And as for you, my sweet," she said to Repentance, "I will personally tuck you into bed tonight." She reached for the chain.
Repentance sought protection behind Lord Carrull.
"Oh, yes, a good idea," Lord Carrull said, yanking the chain forward. "You take care of this one yourself. You can't be too careful." He handed over the chain. "I made sure no mark was on her." He giggled into his hand. "Had to inspect her, you know. For I knew your business would suffer if you delivered damaged goods to Jadin."
Madam Cawrocc gave him a dirty look, then turned her attention to Repentance. "Don't feel any relief, Miss Repentance Happily Forgotten Atwater. I may not be able to beat you, but that pretty little sister of yours is a different thing now, isn't she?"
The Button Girl Page 7
