All Fall Down (3 page)

Fortune seemed to be on my side. The slavers were met by a well-dressed, fleshy man who threw Elissa and myself a look that made me shiver and draw closer to the young woman. She, thankfully, had not seemed to notice. Her fearful attention had been drawn to a large platform at one end of the open space in which the wagon had stopped—clearly it was the place where the slavers displayed their wares.

The newcomer then engaged in what sounded like protracted and somewhat heated negotiations with the leader of our slavers. Once or twice the slave leader gestured vigorously in our direction, and finally he came over to us where we waited in the wagon.

He stopped in front of Elissa and myself, made a few more jabbing motions with his forefinger, and then paused.
 

I held myself very still, refusing to meet either one’s eyes. If the damned man tried to open my mouth to show off my teeth, I most certainly would give him a bite he wouldn’t soon forget.

Fortunately, it did not come to that. The well-dressed newcomer looked us over from head to toe, then gave the rest of the captives a quick but keen glance. At last he nodded.

The slaver was too much a professional to heave a sigh of relief, but I caught the sudden release of tension in his shoulders. Then, as he apparently noticed me watching him, he gave me a quick wink. I looked away, an unwilling smile threatening to pull at one side of my mouth. I always knew that my sense of the absurd would get me in trouble one day.

I watched as the well-dressed man handed the head slaver a heavy bag, presumably filled with the local coin. Then he stepped to one side as the slaver approached the wagon and pointed at Elissa, two of the more likely-looking young men, another pretty girl probably a few years older than Elissa, and myself.

“You there,” he commanded in his rough accent. “Come along now—it’s your lucky day.”

“I find that difficult to believe,” I commented, even as I bent to retrieve my satchel.

“Believe what you want, my tart-mouthed friend.” He stepped to the side as, wearily, one by one, we climbed down out of the wagon. The remaining captives watched us with a combination of worry and envy. “But I figured you’d prefer a private transaction to public display.” And his gaze shifted briefly to the slave platform at the edge of the courtyard before sliding back to me.
 

Privately, I was inclined to agree with him, although I remained silent.
 

“Listen up, you,” he went on, this time directing his words to those of us who had apparently been just been sold. “Master Dorus will be back for you shortly. You’ve just been sold to Lord Shaine of Donnishold. That’s probably more than you lot deserve, but there you have it.” Again he gave me that knowing grin, and this time I lifted an eyebrow at him. The grin widened further. “Too bad I can’t be there to see what he makes of
you
.”

“I’ll be sure to write and let you know,” I shot back.

Again he refused to take offense. No doubt the heavy money pouch hanging from his belt had done much to improve his humor. “I’m sure you would, darlin’—if only I could read!”

My lips parted to issue another retort, but we were interrupted by the arrival of Master Dorus with another wagon, this one lighter and better built, with a covering of heavy canvas stretched over a framework of curved beechwood. Accompanying Master Dorus—who I assumed must be the steward to Lord Shaine—were two more men, both wearing studded leather doublets and short, businesslike swords at their belts. No doubt they were there to serve a dual purpose of guarding Master Dorus and his cargo…and to ensure that said cargo stayed put and didn’t try to wander off in the night.

Dorus fixed us all with an unmoving stare, and without a word we climbed up into the wagon. I didn’t fancy sharing such close quarters with him for the journey (however long that might take), let alone being a member of his household. His dark eyes were cold, opaque, and the tightly graven lines around his mouth spoke of a harsh, unforgiving nature. I wondered at the unseen Lord Shaine, who would entrust such a man with his slaves and the management of his estate. Then I tried to tell myself that such dislike for a person on sight was certainly contrary to the teachings of the Order, which preached tolerance and respect for all living things.
 

Of course, tolerance probably came more easily to those who hadn’t been sold into slavery.

At least the interior of the wagon was clean, and neat rolls of bedding had been placed there for us. Perhaps we were slaves, but it was apparent to me that we had fetched a good sum, and as valuable property we would at least be given the basic necessities.
 

We all settled ourselves down as best we could. No one spoke. I could tell that Dorus’ presence had unnerved the rest of them quite possibly more than it had me. He hadn’t said one word to us, so I had no idea whether he spoke the common tongue or not, but none of us seemed inclined to test whether he had that knowledge.

Although the canvas covering of the wagon shielded us from the elements, it had the disadvantage of hiding the passing landscape from our view as well. Of course, night fell soon after we left the slave districts of Myalme, so most probably we would not have seen much.
 

An hour or so after we were on the road, Dorus passed back to us a hamper filled with what proved to be fairly tasty meat rolls, as well as some dried fruit and several flasks of water. We shared the meal in silence, and then, one by one, we dropped off into slumber, lulled by the meal and the endless swaying motion of the wagon.

At some point during the night we must have stopped, for when I awoke and peered out the opening at the back of the wagon, I could see we were in a small village. The buildings had been fashioned of a dark-gray native stone and looked dour under a lowering early morning sky. At the edge of my vision I detected one of the two guards, who stood off to the rear of the wagon. No doubt we had stopped so that Master Dorus could pass the night in a real bed at an inn. Of course we slaves would not be offered anything besides the makeshift beds we had on the wagon floor.
 

At the same time I became uncomfortably aware that the call of nature had exerted itself somewhat forcibly on my bladder. Surely they wouldn’t expect us to relieve ourselves here in the wagon. It was far too clean for that.
 

I managed to catch the guard’s attention and, through the use of some awkward hand gestures, somehow conveyed my need to him. By the end of the exchange I could feel myself flushing, which, I told myself, was ridiculous. After all, as a physician I had to deal with all sorts of bodily functions on a daily basis. Somehow, though, it was quite different when the functions involved were my own.

Still, the guard allowed me to clamber out of the wagon and follow him to an outdoor privy located behind the inn. I took care of my business as quickly as possible and then allowed myself a deep breath of cool morning air once I was back out in the relative freshness of the courtyard.

By the time I returned to the wagon, the rest of its occupants had roused themselves, and the guard was forced to perform privy duties for the entire group. I couldn’t help but allow myself a small, unnoticed smile at his obvious chagrin. As a man-at-arms to a lord, he most likely felt that such work was far beneath him.

Two servants—or possibly they were slaves as well—emerged from the rear of the inn bearing bowls of some sort of porridge. I didn’t recognize the grain from which it was made, but it had so little taste it couldn’t really offend. It seemed nourishing, however, and I ate with good appetite. If I had learned anything over the past few years as I traveled about the countryside, it was to eat when food was offered. No matter what the day had in store for us, it would be better to face it on a full stomach.

After another interval, Dorus finally emerged from the inn and took his place on the front seat of the wagon. The two guards mounted their own horses and fell into place behind us as we continued on down the road.

It was difficult to gauge the passing of time, as the sky had clouded over to a uniform gray, obscuring the sun. At least rain had not yet begun to fall. We again passed the time in silence, broken only by another makeshift meal at midday, when we were given strips of highly seasoned dried meat, some cheese, and surprisingly good bread, no doubt purchased at the inn, for it tasted fresh.

The forced inactivity began to prey upon me. I couldn’t remember a time when I hadn’t been doing at least three things at once. During my training I had interminable lessons in herb lore and anatomy, accompanied by practicums where we went into the countryside to gather herbs and other natural substances for medicines, or studied the inner workings of the body through dissections (frowned upon by the priestesses of Inyanna, but viewed by the city elders as a convenient way to dispose of the bodies of executed criminals). And life in the field was no different. I was used to rising early to compound my medicines and see to the patients in my care, patients whose complaints could range from the simple nausea of early pregnancy to lung ailments to the variety of diseases that had plagued men since the beginning of time: pox, mumps, a variety of fevers, ague.
 

For lack of anything better to do, I tried to calculate how long it might take for Frin to travel to Lystare and inform my superiors of my capture. By all rights he should have been able to take my mare, abandoned in Aunde, but there was no guarantee one of the other inhabitants might not try to lay claim to so rich a prize. Very well, I would allow that he would might have to walk. The tiny hamlet had not even been noted on my maps, but I had estimated it lay a little more than a hundred miles from the capital city. Walking at a brisk pace, a man might be able to achieve that distance in a week—possibly less, if he were able to obtain the occasional lift from a passing carter or merchant. Still, it would probably be some time before anyone with the means to do anything about it learned of my capture.

And once they did, what then? Even if Frin had managed to commit the faces of the slavers to his memory, they had been very careful not to call one another by name during the raid. Their anonymity would no doubt protect them from any sort of reprisals. No, my only chance of salvation lay in someone traveling to the slave markets of Myalme and making inquiries there. Even then I was none too sanguine about my chances for rescue. Our sale had been a quiet, underhanded transaction. We hadn’t even been placed on display for the general round of buyers to see us. Who would ever know that a small group from Aunde, including a displaced physician of the Golden Palm, had been sold there one evening?

As if to mirror my dark mood, the skies chose that moment to open up. For a few moments it seemed as if the heavy canvas that covered us would be enough to protect us from the deluge, but that hope proved short-lived. Once the material was soaked through, it began to drip upon me and everyone else in the back of the wagon. The other occupants scrambled to grab their blankets to protect themselves as best they could, while I once again offered the meager protection of my cloak to Elissa.
 

From a storage trunk located immediately behind the driver’s seat, Dorus produced a broad-brimmed felt hat, which he grimly clapped on his head. However, he did not stop, instead slapping the reins across the horses' backs to increase their speed as best they could in the rapidly liquefying mud of the roadway.

His haste led me to wonder whether we were drawing near to our destination. I hoped so. No matter what awaited us at the end of our journey, surely it couldn’t be any worse than the increasingly sodden misery in which we all sat. Beside me, Elissa began to shake with the cold. The poor girl had been taken in only her shift, which of course was completely unsuitable for the wet, cold weather.

There wasn’t much I could do besides let her burrow up against me in a vain attempt to combine our body heat. Although I was better dressed than most of the other captives, in a plain but well-made gown of wool with detachable sleeves and a stout chemise of medium-weight linen, the garments didn’t do me much good once they were soaked through. At least I had been wearing my sturdy calf-high boots when the slavers captured me. They protected my feet much better than the low indoor shoes most fashionable women wore. But dainty slippers served no purpose in the rough life I normally led, and I saved such fripperies for the times I was back in Lystare and briefly engaged in the social whirl that seemed to swirl endlessly around my town-bound family.

An increasing darkness outside the wagon told me that night would soon be upon us. I huddled in my cloak and wondered how much farther we had to travel. Certainly Dorus didn’t intend to keep driving on through the night? At some point the horses would need to rest. Besides, even in Farendon it was not entirely safe to journey on the road after darkness fell, and Seldd was a much wilder, less civilized place.

But then the wagon shifted as we turned down a fork in the road. Beneath us the ground felt rougher, the way even more rutted—if possible—than the main road had been. I leaned away from Elissa to look past Dorus’ shoulder, but the falling rain and approaching dusk revealed nothing but a thick darkness. Then I saw a wavering orange glow that must be torchlight, shimmering through the rain. Slowly a high stone wall came into focus, a wall in which was centered a sturdy wooden gate. On either side of the gate stood a guard dressed very much like the men-at-arms who rode with us.
 

Their swords remained in their scabbards. Obviously they recognized Dorus and his wagonload of fresh slaves. The casual way in which they greeted him made me wonder how often the steward was dispatched to Myalme to bring in another group of workers for the estate.
 

The flickering torchlight did little to reveal our surroundings. We were now in some sort of courtyard; I could hear the wagon wheels rattle against stone, not churned mud. Shadowy forms of tall buildings seemed to rise around us on all sides, but I could not make out any architectural details, save to note that the castle—if that was truly what it was—apparently had been constructed of the native dark-gray stone that seemed to be the chief building material in Seldd.