by L J Andrews
Eep studied his face. The woman had painted lips, though the color had smudged in the corners of her mouth. Her eyes were bloodshot, with a jaundice tint to her skin. She might have been lovely once before life claimed her as its own haggard victim.
With a curt nod the madonna unlocked the door. “As you wish, sir. I can’t understand why you don’t join with your fellow sailors with our prepped girls. You would not be disappointed; I can assure you.”
“Is it customary to questions paying customers?”
Eep pinched her thin lips and lifted her nose in the air as she ushered Roark into the room. Part of Roark wished he could shut off emotions after scanning what was in front of his eyes. If he’d remained much longer in the cliffs, he might have been able to do so. He swallowed hard and absorbed the room.
Women—girls really—huddled against straw cots. All nine heads lowered when Eep and Roark stepped over the threshold, but even in the dim lighting Roark could see scrubbed pink cheeks and innocence still in gazes. Soon that innocence would be gone.
Eep pulled a reed from her skirts and slapped it against the stone wall with a loud thwack. The madonna waited as the girls lined up at attention in front of the mats. “Vestals, lift your eyes and meet a new benefactor. If you are lucky, perhaps you shall be welcomed upstairs earlier than anticipated.” Eep surveyed the cautious gazes that lifted at her voice, but after a prickly moment she turned back to Roark. “The time is yours sir. I shall stand outside for when you’ve made your selection.”
Roark said nothing but nodded and kept his eyes trained ahead. Eep bowed her head and rustled with her petticoats through the door and locked it once outside. Roark dragged a breath through his teeth to slow his pulse and waited another breath until Eep would be a few paces away before he darted across the gap.
“Agnus,” he gasped when the girl nearly crumbled as she flung her thin arms around his neck. The other girls shifted uncomfortably, but when Agnus buried her young face in the folds of Roark’s tunic, tension seemed to bleed from their shoulders.
“I c-c-can’t believe it’s you,” Agnus sobbed. “I thought I was looking at the face of a ghost, Ro. After so much time passed, I thought you must have been killed.”
Roark grinned and pulled back. Over a year since he’d seen the girl, but her face was still rounded, and her soft eyes still carried a girlish gleam. “Have you been harmed?”
She winced and hung her head. “Scars heal, but this house… I was nearing my probation’s end. Ro, I don’t know what will happen to me when they take me upstairs.”
Roark trapped her cheeks between his palms. “You’re not going upstairs, Agnus. I will pay the debt to the house, but you must do exactly as I tell you if you are to remain free. Understand?”
Agnus’s chin quivered but there was a subtle tug at the corners of her lips that Roark thought might be the origins of a smile. “Why…would you risk so much, Ro?”
He squeezed her shoulders and met her eye. “Agnus, I promised I would protect you and I failed when the trappers came. Let me keep that promise.” Roark stared at the other broken faces of girls too young to know this place. “I only wish I could do more.”
The hinges of the wooden door rattled when Madonna Eep pounded her fist. “If you’ve found the one, let’s be on with it.”
Roark swallowed through the thickened lining in his throat as he took Agnus’s hand. “Come with me, and don’t say a word.”
She winced as she stared over her shoulder at the faces of those left behind. Roark couldn’t glance back or leaving would be impossible. He shoved Agnus through the doorway, so she stumbled. The girl whipped a fresh glare at him through the dim lighting, the same as she’d done at the farm. Roark yawned and leaned against the wall when Eep studied him and hissed at Agnus to stand straight.
“Well, how much, woman?”
Saliva rattled between Eep’s teeth as she sucked in air and circled Agnus like a prowling cat in the jungle. “She’s young, sir. Very young. One of our vestals that means she’s—”
Roark held up his hand and scoffed. “I know what the term means.”
“Fifteen.”
Roark lifted a brow. “Fifteen coppers?”
Eep laughed. “I’m not a slum, sir. Fifteen silver gildings.”
“At that price you’d better include every night I’m at port.”
Eep crossed her arms and tilted her head so graying curls splayed around her shoulders. One lantern flickered and dimmed as the oil wasted in the dingy corridor, but Eep didn’t seem to notice. “I’ll give you two for that price, but no bruises or there will be battery fees.”
Roark’s stomach churned. Thanks to Lord Tama he knew how to conceal emotion beneath a flat face. What a life these forgotten souls would live. Roark glanced at Agnus whose hands trembled against her sides, so the billowy white nightdress ruffled. Roark brushed a lock of her light hair over her shoulder and she flinched—hopefully, playing her part and not truly frightened. “What would you say, Madonna, if I asked for the entire girl.”
Eep had silver eyes that gleamed like jagged knives when she narrowed them. Roark’s pulse raced in his head, but his face remained cool and collected. “What are you asking, sir?”
“I want her—as mine.”
“She hasn’t begun to work off the house debt, and you ask to…buy her?”
“I’m a man who knows what I want.”
“She’ll be ruined on your ship.”
“No one said she’s joining me. I have dwellings in many ports. I enjoy company when I return.”
Eep seemed interested. Bradach’s crew had the reputation of the wealthiest and Roark knew how to act the part. “I’m not one to fault a man who knows what he wants then. Her debt is two hundred gildings and four coppers.”
“I don’t have the full two hundred.”
“And four coppers,” Eep said. “Then, sir, you don’t have a girl.”
Roark held up a hand to silence the woman and dug through the waist satchel tethered to his belt. “I didn’t say I couldn’t pay, Madonna. Fifty gildings, and then…these.”
Roark handled the silver pearls, sapphire rings, and emerald hair combs with care. Eep’s eyes widened, her messy lips gaped. “Where, sir…where could you have—”
“I sail with Baron Bradach, Eep. I shall leave the details to your imagination. Do we have a deal, woman?”
Eep’s fingers clasped around Roark’s hands like spindly tentacles as her hungry eyes devoured the jewels and wealth. “We have a deal, sir. I do hope on your next visit you shall visit our humble house again.”
“I don’t need anything more from you, Madonna.”
She nodded but hadn’t taken her eyes off the treasure in her calloused palms. With a glare, Eep glanced at Agnus. “Gather your day things, girl and be on your way. Count yourself fortunate you now serve a powerful benefactor.” Eep stepped next to Roark as Agnus darted back into the room. “No returns. Once you sully her, she’ll have little value to me.”
Roark spat the rancid taste on his tongue instead of shouting at the woman. “I wouldn’t dream of setting foot in this place again, Madonna.”
Eep chomped her teeth and chuckled with a low-tone mania as she sauntered down the corridor as she stuck one of the fine combs in her ratty hair.
“Ro,” Agnus whispered. “Where do we go now?”
With a grin, Roark held out his hand. “Gather your things, I’ve made arrangements for you.”
“No, I want to stay with you.”
Roark sighed and tugged her against his side. “I wasn’t lying, Agnus. You can’t come on my ship and I can’t leave it.”
“Why can’t I sail with you?”
“Another crew member could claim you if we weren’t careful. I won’t take that risk with you. You’re too young to see the things I’ve seen in the wilds of the Bloodlands.”
“All I have left is to return to the Gap, Ro. And what happens when trappers come again?”
“No, Agnus. Y
ou will have a life. A good life. Come with me, I’ve seen to it you’re provided for.”
Agnus bit her bottom lip but followed after she’d taken a single dress and tattered leather sandals from the room. They stalked down the long corridor in silence for a moment until Agnus tugged on his arm. “Where did you come across the treasures, Ro?”
He sighed and stared at the first stone step that would lead them away from the unfeeling basement. “Some from winnings, some from Furv.”
Agnus whimpered and wiped her eyes. “Furv. He’s alive? Where is he?”
“The Cy Cliffs, where we were sold. I failed to save him, but we were able to speak privately before I left. He risked a great deal, taking the jewels from the mistress he serves. You see, Furv has earned slight favor with a wealthy woman in the cliffs. He was informed of trapper routes that might have brought you here to Skoka’s trade. When we learned I would be returning to Jershon, we promised each other I would not rest until I found you.”
The tears on her cheeks left dirty tracks on her dusty skin. “How did you escape?”
“It’s a long tale, Agnus. I fought for my freedom. Battled all manner of men for the entertainment of the Cy Lord. Furv is protected for now by the Lady of Cy, but I won’t be at ease until he’s freed too. Now, let’s go, I have a plan for where you’ll be safe.”
“Ro,” she whispered as they rounded the stairs and dodged a rowdy couple drifting toward a private room. “Are you free?”
Roark tightened his mouth as he held a back door open. The air was dry with a desert chill that cut through his thin tunic. “No, Agnus. I must serve Baron Bradach as a sailor. To be honest, the man isn’t terrible and was the one who permitted Furv and I to speak alone. He’s fair, Agnus. I’ll be fine.”
She swiped angry tears and tucked closer to his side as she dragged a long breath of the fresh air for the first time in who knew how long. “It isn’t right. I’m free now, but I can do nothing for you.”
Roark grinned and led her toward the main street in Sortis. “It will work out, Agnus. And the good news is I’ll return to Jershon from time to time. We shall see each other again. Now, come this way, there is a childless couple that ages. Agnus, they have always yearned for a child, now have kindly offered to take you as their own. You shall have their protection.”
Agnus halted with a jolt and Roark nearly stumbled over her after the abrupt stop. “They want…me?”
Roark nodded. “You will have all they have. I’ll leave a small amount to provide for your immediate needs.”
“How will I be protected?”
“Trust me.”
She shook her head so the mats in her hair whipped her face. “No, how do you know these people?” Her eyes widened when she met Roark’s face. “You…you’re from Jershon. You kept it from me. This is your home, isn’t it?”
Roark dragged a hand through his gritty hair and stared at the sandy road. “Yes, Agnus. Jershon was my home, but you must never admit you or your new family know of me. That will bring harm to you. The Saronas are good people, they’ve agreed to everything, Agnus.”
“You’ve already spoken with them?”
“Yes. They can explain things to you, and why knowing me is dangerous, but out here isn’t the place to speak of it.”
Agnus shook her head. “You aren’t…Ro.”
“Speak that name even when you think of me.” Roark tugged her hand and led them down a gravel road to the outer edge of the capital where quaint huts lined the wall.
A smithery and fishmonger were still alive with customers even at the late hour and the streets reeked of scales, cinders, and saltwater. The family of Sarona scribes survived Kawal’s siege after his mother had warned them. The Saronas hid in the Shen hut for over a year. Now, the couple lived on the edge of town as tanners. Agnus hated sleeping in the stables in the gap because of the smell—she’d have to adjust to the scent of hides.
Roark had returned to the battered Shen training house to inquire on any survivors despite his rude interaction with the Shen at first. It didn’t take long to convince the embittered Shen to spill on the traitorous general. The Shen’s loyalty to the honor of old Jershon was alive and the Saronas weren’t hard to find after the truth came out.
The two former scribes would be the best chance for Agnus to find a new existence. She could start over, be happy.
“What’s your real name?”
Roark shook his head. “I’m not going to tell you.”
“Then I shall run.” She huffed and crossed her arms.
“Agnus, it’s for your protection that you don’t know.”
Her chin quivered when she stepped closer. “You protected me on the farm. I’m certain you protected Furv. You are like my brother, and if I never see you again—”
“You will.”
“If I don’t,” she continued seeming more like a woman with her sharp tone. “Then, I would hold the truth of who you are dearer than anything I could own.”
Roark closed his eyes, eclipsing the desperation written on her face. “You must never speak of me, Agnus. For your own safety.”
“I swear on the Mount and the rays of this land I will not breathe a word.”
Clearing his throat, Roark lowered his voice. “My name is Roark of House Veronis. I was a Jershonian scribe. Kawal murdered my family because I have information he wants more than life itself. I plan to find what he’s looking for and when I do, I’ll return, and I’ll kill him.”
***
Roark smiled, and the muscles in his face felt stiff since smiling had become a thing of the past. But as Kiera Sarona held out the ceramic bowl, his grin was genuine.
“Thank you, but I couldn’t eat another bite,” Roark said.
“You are too skinny.” Kiera returned the bowl to the table and tightened the head shawl around her ebony hair.
The Sarona scribe was bred from old Jershon, where tribes of all the empires once kept strong worship of the Mount and rays. The tribes were integrated into city society after Emperor Abram ascended the throne and rituals of the sun and light were nearly forgotten. As a boy, Roark had always loved the heavy accent of old tribes, and through the years Kiera hadn’t lost any of the long syllables and breathy sounds.
“I am a sailor now, I will sink the ship if I stay here any longer with your cooking, Kiera,” Roark said with a wink at Agnus across the wooden table. She covered her mouth to muffle a chuckle and turned back to her conversation with Te’ka, Kiera’s husband. The man was animated, and his wiry black beard fluttered as he showed Agnus around the small kitchen space.
Kiera tapped Roark’s shoulder gently and lowered her voice to a whisper. “You could stay. We were so pleased to learn you were alive, bachcha.”
Roark gathered the clay plates and took them to the basin Te’ka had fitted with a hand pump for fresh water. “I am not so little anymore, Kiera.” He smiled at the woman over his shoulder. “I wish I could stay, but I must return to the ship or trouble will find you here.”
Kiera crinkled her nose as her hands found her waist. “Did we not survive the siege?”
“Yes, I do not leave because I don’t think you can stand on your own, but the sea barons are a different sort than the soldiers. They don’t play by the same rules of war, Kiera.”
She waved a hand and gathered the remaining plates before pumping a few swells of water over the dishes. “It does not sit well,” she said as Te’ka showed Agnus the small room she would keep. “Your oumi would not let you do this. It is too dangerous.”
Roark’s easy grin faded as he folded his arms and leaned against the wall. “But my mother isn’t here.” Kiera stopped washing and met his eye. “I have done what was needed to survive and will continue to do so. Someday, things will change. I promise.”
Kiera’s eyes were wet when she squeezed Roark’s hand. “No matter what has been done, you must remember they were proud of you as a son.”
The walls of his throat tightened as Roark dropped his
gaze to the uneven stone tiles and nodded. “I hope so.”
Pumping more water, Kiera whisked a quick smile over her face and nudged Roark’s arm. “Are you ever going to say why Lightborn language is inked on your beautiful skin?”
Roark forced a laugh and shrugged. “Not my finest moment, Kiera. I’m afraid I played a terrible round of Kings and Swine. These are the cost of losing.” He held up his arms. “As a scribe, I guess words were the best idea that came to mind when my shipmates made sure I paid my price.”
One corner of her mouth curled up, and Roark assumed she was suspicious of his lie, but she didn’t press the issue. Roark hadn’t shared the truth being trapped and sold to the Cy people. Kiera had eyed his strong figure curiously, but hadn’t asked how a lanky scribe now seemed more like a warrior. Naturally, Roark had lost trust in people, and there was a part that believed if Kiera knew what he’d done in the cliffs, Agnus would be left without a home and ties would be cut completely. He didn’t like thinking such things about people who’d known him since before he formed words, but trust was an easy thing to lose and difficult to mend.
Roark forced his face to relax when Agnus and Te’ka returned to the kitchen room with smiles on their faces.
“I think she is pleased with the house,” Te’ka said to his wife.
Roark glanced at Agnus. “You will be safe here, Agnus.”
Through the afternoon and into the evening dark light with a crimson touch had kissed the surface of Jershon. The glow of the blood moon painted Agnus’s face like a rose and made her appear older than she was. “I admit it’s difficult to feel at ease knowing you are forced to remain in a life you don’t want, Ro…Roark.” She whispered his true name.
Te’ka stroked his beard and Kiera dropped her gaze. Roark took in the somber faces and chuckled. “Such long faces. My lot isn’t so bad, and gives me opportunity to return and visit from time to time. Despite his reputation, Baron Bradach seems fair and those who return respect are given kindness even.”
“Kindness,” Kiera scoffed. “From a baron?”
