The bidding hadn’t started yet. I was in time.
Maybe it was because of what I let Duane do in Viktor’s name. Or maybe it was the way Randall brushed her hair. Whatever the reason, the world felt wrong, and I had to do something to make it right again. I planned to rescue the slave girl. One good thing could come of this bloody money.
I set the vase at my feet and waited as other buyers gathered.
The usual complement of slave guards was bolstered by the presence of a grall. My hair stood on end looking at him. He was eight feet tall, bulging with muscle and had tusks the size of my forearm. Gralls had a mean reputation, and few were allowed in the city. I’d only ever seen one before.
There was something sinister about the flames, the cloaked figures around me, shifting with anticipation, and the caged people staring out at us with innocent eyes.
The night market was where concubines were sold, the buyers masked or hooded to keep their perversions secret. The place stank of hormones, and any faith I might have had in men vanished when the first girl was brought out. People leaned forward hungrily. To be fair, it wasn’t only men: women were there too, elf and human buyers, male and female slaves.... It felt like I was in the middle of a fully clothed orgy.
There were four concubines for sale, all young and beautiful, and the bidding was frenzied. I began to worry my strongbox would be light. Too bad I couldn’t help every one of the men and women paraded on the stage before me. How had Viktor done it? Freed them? And why had he never told me?
The young girl I’d been waiting for was brought out last. She was the prettiest of the lot. I was sickened by the way the crowd looked at her. I bid, willing to give up every silver I owned to save her, and then I bid again. The hatred of the other buyers warmed me.
I’d won, but it felt more like facing the chopping block as I strode over to the flesh merchants and the grall to collect my purchase. Had I bought another human being? Gray, Eva, very gray.
“Listen, Randall. I don’t quite have five hundred, more like four ninety-nine...” I’d forgotten about the vase when I was bidding “...but I’m good for the last silver.”
“You don’t have it?” The slaver had been leading the girl over to me. Now he pushed her back towards the cages, where two of his associates were packing things up. “I have an immediate payment policy, Ilsa.”
“It’s Eva. I’ll throw in this vase.” I held it up like a potter hawking her wares.
“I might take something in trade, but not that.” He reached for a lock of my black hair and brushed my cheek.
I froze for a second before pulling away. “Don’t ever touch me again.”
He frowned. “You’re wasting my time. Get out of here.”
“Not without the girl.” I emptied my small purse and found a few silver quarter knuts and coppers inside, just enough. “Here.” I held out the change and the vase with the strongbox. I was now officially broke. I guess what I’d considered a fortune wasn’t one among those who bought and sold humans. That was a whole new level of rich.
“There’s a surcharge, document transfer fee.... How you want to pay it?” He wouldn’t take the money I offered, and his leer made me tremble with fury.
“You can suck on your fee.” I beckoned to the girl, and she obediently took a step forward.
Randall’s flabby arms rippled as he shoved her back again. “Keep causing trouble, Eva, and you’ll end up like your brother.”
“What do you know about Viktor?”
“Just that he was as big of a pain in the ass as you.”
“You don’t know me very well then. I’m worse.” I dodged Randall, ignored the grall like I’d ignore a pallet of bricks hanging over me—unable to do anything if it happened to crush me, so why worry? —and grabbed the girl. We made it a few steps before the slaver whipped me around by my shoulders.
He shook me until my teeth rattled. “Stealing from me!”
Did he think I was still the scared little girl he’d caught spying outside Uncle’s study years ago? My new policy was when in doubt, get mad. “Like I said, you can have the vase.” I smashed it over his head.
4│ MYSTERIOUS STRANGER
~
THE STRONGBOX POPPED OPEN. SILVER coins and shards of clay showered Randall as he toppled to the ground. I tossed the knuts and coppers on the pile.
The grall laughed.
The slaver held his bleeding scalp, but he was still conscious. He grabbed the hem of the grall’s tunic. “What do I pay you for? Get her!”
I held up a hand. “I’m not a thief. You’ve got your silver.”
The other two slavers came to investigate. “Let the customer go, Randall. You know there’s no surcharge.”
“There’s not? It’s not right to lie,” the grall said.
Randall fumed. “I don’t care what you think...”
“Jorg. My name is Jorg,” the grall reminded him.
“I don’t care about that either. You’re not supposed to open your mouth. You’re muscle.”
“This job is too violent. I thought I would be learning the mercantile trade.”
It was my turn to laugh. A grall merchant? I hadn’t laughed in a long time, and it felt good.
“You’re useless.” On the verge of apoplexy, Randall swayed and held his head. “Pick this up.”
“I’m not a janitor.”
“I don’t care!”
“I’m leaving,” I said. The female slaver nodded, indicating I could go. Randall was red, but he didn’t contradict her.
The big grall was pitiful on hands and knees, obeying his boss. I told my new purchase to come along, and we turned our back on the scene. Coins jangled behind me.
“I couldn’t hurt her. She was only a girl.” The grall’s deep voice faded as I walked away. I felt sorry for him, but I didn’t like anyone calling me ‘only’ anything. If he weren’t an eight-foot-tall mountain of muscle capable of snapping my bones and using them for toothpicks, I would have complained. I didn’t know why he allowed Randall to push him around.
Once out of the bonfire-lighted square, I felt twitchy. Everyone had vanished after the night market ended. The other buyers had bodyguards and carriages to escort their unspent silver or new slave home. I was only a girl.
“Let’s hurry,” I whispered.
“Yes, Mistress.” The slave kept pace with me.
Now I had her, what was I going to do with her? “What’s your name?”
“Whatever you desire, Mistress.”
This was going to get old quick. I envisioned the next few months trying to teach her concepts like ‘free will’ and ‘independence’ while she nodded vacuously. I’d really done it this time. I didn’t only mean the slave. I was unarmed in the Outskirts at night...and figures were emerging from the gloom to encircle us.
“Run!”
“Yes, Miss—”
I made it between two of them, but the girl was easily caught. I turned around. “Let go of her.”
Someone grabbed me. I kicked him in the gut and sent him sprawling.
The girl didn’t move as lascivious thugs petted her cheek and grabbed her breast.
“This is how I like ‘em, docile,” one said. I yanked him away from her by the hair and felt lice crawling across his scalp.
Half a dozen blades, oiled and glistening in the wan light, were drawn and pointed at me. I stayed perfectly still.
The lousy one blew fetid breath in my face. “I think she’s the one what was with The Adder this morning. You killed my pal, Fox. Now, I’ll cut you.” Gormless shouldn’t have let this one go.
“Adder, Fox...can’t you guys come up with better names? I suppose they call you Jackass.” I laughed.
He didn’t find it as funny as I did, and a second later I was dodging a knife. This had been my least favorite part of Morgan’s lessons as a child.
Fortunately, I’d been paying attention. I avoided skewering, and I could have taken him down, but his friends closed in. I had no ro
om to maneuver. The place between my shoulder blades itched, and I imagined six inches of steel sticking out of it at any moment.
I hadn’t realized how accustomed I’d grown to the dark until a phosphorous glow bloomed around us. We all covered our eyes. I peeked as the light faded and caught sight of a glowing cord unknotting itself at my feet. It grew larger and larger until it was the size of a python. Silver fangs emerged from one end and struck the nearest street thug. He collapsed, wracked with agony. Magic. The rest of them took off.
Cord magic. I’d heard of it but never seen it before. Everything sold in Highcrowne was either potions, conjurations or enchantments, usually Avian made. Cord and knot magic wasn’t in their repertoire. Should I be running as well?
A man taller than me stepped into the artificial light. He un-stoppered a flask and forced it down the injured mugger’s throat. “This will stop the poison. You can thank me for my mercy.”
“Th-Th-Th-” was all the thug could manage through chattering teeth. At least he stopped writhing.
The newcomer turned to me, and for a moment I thought I knew him. He was Solhan, tall and fair, about fifteen years older than me. I had never met him before, but I couldn’t shake a sense of familiarity, of inevitability.
“You were a fool to wander here with your slave, my lady.”
I don’t like being called a fool, and the ‘lady’ bit wasn’t much better. Did I look that useless?
“I appreciate the help but not the lecture,” I said.
The magic-bitten thug passed out, while the slave girl watched everything incuriously. It felt like the Solhan and I were the only two people there.
Self-conscious, I absently combed fingers through my tousled hair. “I’d best get home. Thank you again.”
“I’m afraid you misunderstand me. I can’t let you leave with your purchase. I intend to set her free.” He pulled another knotted cord out of a small pouch on his hip. “You would be just as foolish to resist as you were coming here in the first place.”
Wasn’t this a shocker? Mistaken for a filthy slave buyer, rather than the idiot do-gooder I saw myself as?
“No, no, no. I only bought her to set her free.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“Why not? You think you’re the only emancipationist in existence?”
“I think you’re trying to be clever, but you are only looking more foolish, my lady.”
“Enough ‘fool’ and ‘my lady’! My name is Eva. Watch, I’ll cross my arms and stand here while you set her free. I doubt she understands the concept, so I’m looking forward to seeing how you do it.”
“Eva?”
“That’s what I said.”
“Thorne?”
“Yes.” My last name summoned fearful visions of Uncle Ulric’s wrath in most people’s imaginations. While I hated being overshadowed by my uncle, I didn’t mind the resultant terror the name instilled. Such intimidation could be useful when you were unarmed and facing a wizard.
He put the cord away. See what I mean? Sometimes it paid to be a Thorne.
“I knew your brother, Viktor.”
I uncrossed my arms. “What? He was freeing slaves with you?”
“For quite some time.” He bowed. “My name is Erick Karsten, and I am honored to meet you, my la— Eva.”
“Um, likewise.”
Did I mention I almost flunked out of finishing school? All these manners made me feel like I was facing one of Lady Halcyon’s deportment lessons. I stood straighter and nodded my head. Why hadn’t I done it so well when I was being graded on it?
Erick held out an arm to me. “I suggest we retire before courage returns to any of your attackers. I will escort you home.”
I hesitated before putting a hand on his arm. He felt incredibly warm, and I had the strange urge to let his warmth enfold me. I was tired was all.
I turned my head and said, “Come on.” The girl followed.
Once we were safely out of the Slave Quarter and back in the neighborhood, I told Erick, “How are we supposed to free her? She seems so helpless.”
“It is only the slave mark. The symbol is seared deeper than the flesh, passed from parent to child, so there is no escaping it. It smothers the soul.”
“Sounds worse than I thought.”
“I can remove it.” He let go of me, and I was momentarily at a loss. Touching him had felt so natural.
Erick went to the girl and placed a palm over the crosshatching of lines etched in bright red on the ebony skin of her upper arm. Her liquid eyes watched him with complete trust. A few moments later, she began to fidget. Soon she gasped and tears poured down her face.
“You’re hurting her.” I wanted to stop him, but I knew better than to interfere with a spell in progress.
“She’s waking up.”
The red mark flared. The light of it shone through Erick’s hand, and an ear-splitting scream escaped the girl. She collapsed, but he caught her. Suddenly, the night was quiet. A shriek like that would have caused everyone who heard it to lock their doors.
“What happened? It didn’t work, did it?”
“She’ll be fine.” He showed me her arm. The brand was erased. “When she wakes, she will be confused and frightened. Let me carry her to your home.”
I thought about Karolyne. She would object to my bringing an illegally-freed slave into her place of business. I didn’t even know her stance on the slavery issue. She might insist I return her to Randall.
“Better we take her to Viktor’s. Do you know where that is?”
“Yes.” He strode ahead, the unconscious girl held gently in his arms, her head against his shoulder.
Why did I feel jealous? It was innocent. Besides, I wasn’t interested in Erick. At least that’s what I repeated to myself on the way.
I’d forgotten my key, so I rapped on the door loud enough for Old Nanny to hear. She wasn’t deaf, but she did tend to ignore things she didn’t like. The cover over the peephole slid aside and a rheumy eye, pale yellow and surrounded by wrinkled skin, stared out at me.
“Is that the young master come so late?”
“No, Nanny. It’s Eva. Let me in.”
The eye moved up and down and side to side, inspecting me. “No, you’re not! You’re Ilsa. Don’t try and confuse me. You’re not allowed.”
“By the Light Bringer.” I groaned. This could take hours. “What do I need to do to prove to you...?”
“Madam Olinov, it is I, Erick.”
“Oh! Erick, why didn’t you say?” The old woman opened the door, the grin on her face as welcoming as her gesture. How come she never looked at me that way?
I’d inherited Nanny along with the house. She had been Viktor’s nursemaid and Uncle’s before that. She was devoted to my brother but cracked: unable or unwilling to admit he was dead. I could forgive her eccentricities but not the way she treated me like an unwelcome guest. She kept confusing me with Ilsa or my mother. She never liked either one of them.
Erick laid the ex-slave on the largest couch in the sitting room and propped her head up with a cushion.
“Another one?” Nanny said.
“Yes. You don’t mind caring for her, do you, my dear lady?”
Nanny waved a hand dismissively. “Of course not. I only wish Viktor would give some warning of these things. Seems there are always strange people coming and going without a care for my privacy.” She eyed me when she said the last bit. Nanny believed this was her home, and there was no telling her otherwise. I had no intention of kicking her out—she was an institution—but sometimes....
“Thank you.” Erick turned to me. “It is late, and I will take my leave.”
I felt a jolt. “Wait. I have to ask you about Viktor, how he died, and what you’re doing with these slaves.”
“I am perfectly willing to be interrogated, but it has been a long day.” I could tell him a thing or two about having a long day, but I kept quiet. “May I call tomorrow at noon?”
“Fine. I mean, yes. I can wait. I’ll be here.”
“You are most gracious.” He kissed my hand.
Gracious? He must not have been paying attention.
Erick went to the door, navigating the dangerous, shin-high furniture with ease, familiar with the layout of Viktor’s house. He gave me a last, parting look that got my heart beating faster.
Who was this mysterious man who’d helped my brother right wrongs? Part of me didn’t want him to leave, and not because I had questions. I knew the warning signs of an impending crush—I’m well aware of my addictions—and firmly reminded myself I wasn’t looking for a man. I was looking for a killer.
With Erick gone and the slave girl passed out, I was all alone with Old Nanny. She stood in the middle of the room with her hands clasped, staring at me. She seemed to expect me to go as well. I’d had enough of knife fights in dark alleys for one day and had no desire to walk back out into the night.
“I’m going to my room,” I headed for the stairs. None of my things were here yet, so I’d sleep in one of Viktor’s shirts.
“What do you mean, ‘your room’?” she asked nastily.
“By all the gods, I’ve told you a dozen times, Nanny. Viktor left me this place and asked me to look after you. His room is now my room.”
“No, you don’t. You are not to disturb a thing in there! I want something to remember him by.” The old woman had her lucid moments, and sometimes I thought they were worse. She was happier when she thought Viktor was still alive.
“Then where am I supposed to sleep?”
She indicated the smaller lounge across from the one on which the slave girl rested. Its once lavish upholstery was ancient and moth-bitten. So much dust had stained the cloth, the birds embroidered across it appeared to be caught in a tornado.
“No. My feet are killing me and I need a bed.” I headed for the stairs before I caught another accusing look from her.
“Use the guest room then. For if I catch you in Viktor’s, you will die a slow death by poison, Ilsa.”
“It’s Eva!” I stamped my way up the staircase.
Tangle of Thornes Page 4
