The Rogue Knight (4 page)

“I've never been to Carthage,” Jace said. “I hear it's quite a city.”

“Not many cities span two kingdoms,” Mira said. “Add that it's on a river, and you have a major trade center.”

“And we have a few ringers to spare,” Jace said with a grin. “I brought our money from the coach.”

“We're not on holiday,” Mira scolded.

“Plenty of people in cities have money,” Jace said. “We'll draw less attention if we don't look like we're hiding.”

“Kids spending a lot of money always draws attention,” Mira said, “as curiosities and as targets.”

“She has a point,” Cole said. That was as true back home in Arizona as it was here.

“So do I,” Jace replied harshly. “I've spent my life as a slave. I don't want to keep living like one longer than necessary. I'm free, and I have money. I don't think we should start tossing around gold ringers, but plenty of free kids our age have some money on them. Enough to buy some food and have a little fun.”

“No fun,” Mira said sternly. “We need to stay as miserable as possible.”

Jace chuckled. “You know what I mean.”

“I do,” Mira said. “We'll have to spend a little money on food and lodging. But we need to be smart about it. Kids our age don't normally book rooms for themselves.”

“Some kids have wealthy families,” Jace said. “Some have jobs. Leave it to me. I've worked in cities. I can imitate a free kid better than any of us.”

“You don't have to imitate one,” Cole said. “You are one. Your mark says so.”

Jace rubbed the freemark on the back of his hand. “Declan gave us the right marks, but free kids and slave kids act differently.”

“Me, Twitch, and Mira used to be free,” Cole reminded him.

“Sort of,” Jace allowed with a snort. “Mira was royalty on the run, you were free in another world, and Twitch was free among the grasshopper people. I actually know what normal life is like here. How people act.”

“You're very streetwise,” Mira said, rolling her eyes. “Just try not to spend too big. And don't lose your temper.”

Jace grinned. “Lose it? Don't worry. I always keep it handy. Last one to Carthage has bug parts.”

“Hey!” Twitch protested.

“Oh, yeah,” Jace fake apologized. “Rat parts?”

“How about last one there was born a slave?” Cole said.

Jace flashed him an angry look. “Last one there hangs back in fights and sometimes helps a little at the end.”

“Cut it out,” Mira said. “How about we actually start? First one there is the fastest.” She raised her sword and called, “Away.”

The boys followed.

As he sprang along the road, one huge leap after another, Cole tried not to stew about Jace's accusation. Cole supposed he had hung back a little in their last fight. But Jace's golden rope was easily their best weapon. Cole had charged into danger many times. He was no coward—he just wanted to make his attacks count.

Jace was just blowing off steam because of the crack about his slavery. It had been harsh to tease him about something he couldn't control, but Jace had been doing the thing to Twitch. If he could dish it out, he needed to learn to take it, too.

By jumping each time he landed, Cole didn't find the travel too tiring. The Jumping Sword did most of the work. He just needed to correctly time each command and aim the blade in the right direction.

Even without heavy exertion, Cole wished he had caught some sleep in the coach. By the time the approaching dawn began to color the horizon, his eyelids were feeling heavy. Cole wondered if it was possible to fall asleep while sailing through the air at terrific speeds. If he got tired enough, and the jumps were repetitive enough, he suspected the answer was yes.

As the sky grew lighter, Mira paused and sheathed her sword. Cole came to a stop near her. “Anything wrong?” he asked.

“I noticed cottages up ahead during my last jump,” Mira explained. “It's getting too bright.”

Twitch removed his ring, and his translucent wings disappeared. He looked like a normal human boy.

“We have to be close,” Jace said. “We went fast all night.”

“I probably need to lose the flail,” Mira said. “I can't use it in Elloweer, and it'll attract too much attention on the road.”

“Aw, crud,” Cole said. “That thing has saved us more than once.”

Mira pointed off to the side of the road. “Flail, hide.” The flail plunged into a bush beyond some trees in the direction she had indicated. “I'd send it back to Asia and Declan, but it can't interpret commands like that. Maybe we'll come back this way someday.”

They started walking. Cole's eyes felt dry and itchy. He kept blinking and rubbing them, but the irritation persisted. He needed to sleep.

Under the light of dawn, they began to pass farms. A wagon went by in the opposite direction. The driver hardly looked at them.

“Don't tense up when you see people,” Jace told Cole. “You were glancing at that guy too much. Nobody knows us. We're free kids on a stroll. Act like you own the road. Don't pay attention to other people, and they probably won't pay attention to you. If they want to be friendly, let them make the first move.”

Cole resisted the urge to get defensive. He
had
felt tense when he saw the driver, and it might have shown. “Good advice.”

After the road briefly became the main street of a little hamlet, they began to pass many more homesteads, large and small. People went up and down the road on horseback, in wagons or carriages, and on foot. The presence of so many other people helped Cole relax and feel less conspicuous. The crowds dispelled his sleepiness. He watched for legionnaire uniforms and tried to casually notice whether any of the passersby showed unusual interest in Mira.

As the sun climbed, the lane continued to get busier until it joined up with a larger road. Coming around a bend, Cole looked out at a massive wall that was the dark green of a forest at twilight. Beyond the imposing barrier, rooftops, domes, towers, and spires suggested a city of greater scale than Cole had expected. It didn't look anything like the scattered tall buildings and sprawling suburbs of Phoenix. This city was more compact, with architecture that brought to mind ancient capitals from history books.

“That really is a city,” Cole muttered.

“You didn't think the five kingdoms were all farms and woods, did you?” Jace asked.

“And magical floating castles,” Cole added.

“He hasn't been here long,” Mira said. “We've avoided the more populated areas.”

“Which isn't always the best strategy,” Jace said. “It can be easier to get lost in a crowd.”

“There are pros and cons,” Twitch said. “Crowds have lots of eyes.”

“Among the pros are food and beds,” Jace said. “I'll take my chances.”

“What's Elloweer like?” Cole asked. “I still don't know much about it.”

“It's hard to explain,” Mira said. “The shaping in Sambria seems straightforward to me. Elloweer is more mystical. The shapers there spice things up with showmanship. They call their art enchanting.”

“They make seemings,” Twitch said.

“Seemings are illusions,” Mira explained. “The best seemings look totally authentic, but they're not tangible, no matter how solid they appear.”

“And then there are the changelings,” Jace said.

“Changelings are living things that have been altered,” Mira said. “In Sambria, we can imitate life with semblances, but our kind of shaping doesn't work well on living things. Some of the Ellowine enchanters can make astonishing alterations to living beings.”

Cole glanced at Twitch.

“What? Are you wondering if I'm a changeling? If so, it happened a long time ago, to my great-great-great-grandparents. And eventually I inherited it. But our traditions hold that our ancestors came to Elloweer from elsewhere.”

“It's believed that Elloweer connects to many worlds,” Mira said. “Or at least it may have in the past. Like Twitch, some of the unusual Ellowine people look human if they leave their kingdom. Others physically can't leave at all.”

“Standard advice in the five kingdoms is to steer clear of Elloweer,” Jace said.

“I didn't get taken as a slave until I left Elloweer,” Twitch complained.

“Well, in Sambria, people think twice before heading too far east,” Jace said. “Weird stuff happens there.”

“Nobody knows all aspects of Ellowine enchanting,” Mira said. “It's almost as murky as the shaping in Necronum.”

Cole stared ahead at the city. “What's the wall made of? It looks a little translucent. Is it jade?” His grandpa had a carved jade sphere from China of similar color and texture.

“Who knows?” Mira said. “It was shaped long ago. You can bet it's tougher than jade. The old-timers who used shaping for construction knew their craft.”

“If it was made by shapers, the wall must be different on the east side of the city,” Cole reasoned.

“We'll see soon enough,” Mira said.

The nearer they drew to the wall, the more details Cole could distinguish. The smoky green surface was ornately carved, especially near the top, with figures in relief and twisting vines bearing fruit. Because of the size and artistry, Cole suspected that on Earth, the wall would be one of the wonders of the world.

The road led to a massive gate, wide enough for a pair of wagons to pass each other going through. A raised portcullis hung above the opening like a row of giant spears. Pairs of armed guards stood at either side of the gate, vigilantly watching all who came and went. At least the guardsmen weren't dressed as legionnaires.

“We should split up on the way in,” Twitch suggested. “In case they have descriptions of our group.”

“Not a bad idea,” Jace said. “I'll stick with Mira. You two go first. Just head straight, then wait for us down the road. Remember, you come here all the time. You're bored of this place. You belong here.”

Cole and Twitch picked up their pace while the others hung back. A busy stream of people were entering and exiting. The guards were paying attention, but nobody was getting stopped or questioned. Cole pressed forward, watching the guy in front of him, keeping his eyes off the guards. He tried to look and feel bored, but his heart was racing.

The gateway's tunnel was about fifteen paces long. As Cole entered, he noticed one of the guards watching him. Beneath the shadow of the wall, the sweat on his back felt slimy. He became painfully aware of the sword belted to his side. How suspicious did it look? Did kids carry swords here? He grew hyperconscious of the ringers he had tied around each leg—a serious amount of money. What if he was caught hiding so much cash?

Forcing a yawn, Cole stretched as he walked. Trying to dwell on dull thoughts, he kept putting one foot in front of the other. He felt relief as he passed through to the other side of the wall, and saw the city spread out before him. The smallest buildings in view were three or four stories high, with some structures rising much higher. Merchants peddled their wares from stalls along the street. Others set their merchandise on blankets. Products included fruit, meat, clothing, jewelry, live birds, and painted statuettes. The herds of people forced the wagons to make their way slowly, though the throng tended to part when horses got near. A couple of autocarts fought the crowd as well, pulled by walking bricks.

Cole and Twitch moved down the street a few blocks, then paused at a corner. The cross street was busy but not as crowded as the avenue that came through the wall. After a couple of minutes, a hand clapped down on Cole's shoulder from behind.

“We want you for questioning,” a gruff voice said.

Cole went tense for a moment, then shrugged away from Jace. “You're hilarious.”

“I told you we'd sail through if we just acted natural,” Jace said.

“Where to now?” Twitch asked.

“I vote for food,” Jace said. “We should spend most of our time on the Sambria side until Joe shows up. We can check his fountain every day, but I'd rather lay my head where I know my gear will work.”

Down the cross street some distance, Cole noticed a man step out of a doorway. He wore a familiar wide-brimmed hat and a long, weathered duster. Not a young man, he looked as lean and tough as beef jerky. Cole would never forget that face. It was Ansel, the slave trader who had brought Cole's friends to the Outskirts.

C
HAPTER

 4 

SLAVER

F
or an instant, Cole could neither move nor breathe. Ansel was the man who had taken him captive, threatened him with a sickle, and chained him to the back of a slave wagon. He was cold, competent, and dangerous. And he was not yet looking Cole's way.

As Cole moved to step around the corner and out of sight, Ansel's narrow eyes flicked in his direction. Perhaps the motion had drawn his glance. There was no way to be certain whether Ansel recognized him, but for a slight moment their gazes connected. With a sickening jolt of panic, Cole knew he had better assume the worst. Ansel wasn't the type to miss much.

“We need to split up now,” Cole said hurriedly. He didn't want to leave the only friends he had with danger coming his way, but he knew it would be tricky to disappear into the crowd moving as a group. If they stayed together, they might all get captured. His friends didn't deserve that risk. Besides, the others would have a better chance of helping him if they were free.

“What?” Mira asked.

Backing down the street, Cole gestured for the others to scatter. “The slaver who captured me is here. I think he saw me. He knows I shouldn't be free. Let's meet up on the Elloweer side by the fountain Joe talked about.”

Twitch was already walking away into the crowd. Jace and Mira hesitated, but a shooing motion from Cole got them going. Cole soon lost sight of them. He was on his own. At least his friends had taken him seriously.

If Ansel was running, he might already be near the corner. If he was walking quickly, Cole still only had a moment or two.

Having already hustled some distance down the street, Cole stepped through the nearest door and into a large, busy eatery. It was mostly men inside. They sat on benches at long, wooden tables. Huge, skewered roasts rotated above fire pits. The air smelled of smoke, charred meat, and herbs. In spite of his current desperation, Cole's hunger reacted to the rich aromas.

Cole noticed windows on the far side of the room. Windows meant a yard or a street. He had no idea whether Ansel had seen him duck into the eatery. He hadn't risked looking back, for fear of showing his face. But he knew he had to keep moving just in case.

Running would attract attention, so Cole walked across the room as slowly as he dared, weaving around tables, trying to look casual. Nobody seemed to pay him any mind.

Maybe Ansel wasn't following him at all. The slaver might not have recognized him. Cole risked a backward glance. Nobody else had come into the establishment yet. If Ansel was in pursuit, he may not have seen him go in here. The crowded street outside should have provided decent cover.

Even if Ansel caught up to him, what could the slaver do? According to the mark on his hand, Cole was free. But Ansel knew he should have a slavemark. The unlikely change could lead to dangerous questions at a time when Cole and his friends needed anonymity. Slaves or not, they were fugitives. The legion wanted all of them, especially Mira. Now that she had her shaping power back, the High Shaper would stop at nothing to find his daughter. Last night's ambush was proof.

Cole's stomach churned. If Ansel caught him and investigated his freemark, his escape from Skyport would come to light, along with his connection to Mira. He'd not only be in trouble with Ansel, but with the High King too. He'd end up enslaved, imprisoned, or worse. And that would be the end of trying to find his lost friends and get home.

On the far side of the room, beyond an interior wall, Cole found a door. Relief surged through him. He glanced back across the room just in time to see Ansel enter.

The slaver's eyes found him immediately. In that steady gaze, Cole saw suspicions confirmed, along with the wordless gloating of one who has uncovered the guilty secret of another. As Ansel calmly started his way, Cole darted out the doorway.

The door led to a narrow alley paved with dark bricks. In one direction, the alley opened onto a busy street. In the other direction, the alley turned a corner. If he ran for the street, he could probably get lost in the crowd. But if Ansel doubled back and looped around, the slaver might be waiting for him by the time Cole got there.

Cole ran away from the street, toward the bend in the alley, hoping it would lead someplace better. As he reached the corner, Cole heard the door open behind him.

Around the corner the alley became narrower, with little puddles of grimy water where bricks were missing or had sunken. After no more than twenty paces the alleyway elbowed again. Beyond the next turn awaited a dead end. Sheer walls rose five stories high in all directions. There was a single recessed door on the left. Trying the handle, Cole found it locked.

Footsteps approached. Not running, but walking with purpose.

Trying to stay calm, Cole drew his Jumping Sword. At least there were no onlookers.

He considered waiting for Ansel to round the corner, then jumping straight at him. It would be an all-or-nothing attack. What if the slaver dodged it? Cole had no desire to tangle with him in a fair fight.

Even if he could kill Ansel, would it be right? Ansel was following him, which seemed menacing, but the slaver had made no threat, and taking slaves was legal in the Outskirts.

Cole aimed the sword at the top of the left-hand wall and said “away” in an urgent whisper. He soared upward like a rocket, reached the top of the building at the apex of his flight, and landed gently. The flat roof had hatches for access, and nobody was up there. Hurrying away from the edge, Cole lost all view of the alley. He couldn't be sure whether or not Ansel had witnessed his jump, but Cole felt certain that if he peeked down to check, Ansel would see him. He crouched in silence, aware of his rapid pulse.

“I know you're up there, Scarecrow,” said a parched voice from down below, not loudly, but loud enough. “Probably with a rendering you swiped from the Raiders. You're in trouble, kid. The life of a slave ain't no picnic, but the life of a runaway is much worse. At least be man enough to face me. What am I gonna do? Fly?”

Cole hesitated. Ansel had just confirmed that he specifically recognized him. Could anything be gained by talking with the slaver, now that escape was in reach? Ansel thought Cole was a runaway. If Cole explained himself, was there a chance the slaver would leave him alone?

Jenna came to mind. So did Dalton. Ansel might have information about where they had been sent. Was there any way he would cough up some details? Cole doubted he would get many opportunities to speak to somebody with direct knowledge of what had happened to his friends.

Cole peered down to find Ansel looking up. He had a satchel over one shoulder, but his hands were empty. The slaver gave a nod. “That's right. Nothing to prevent us from having some words. How'd you end up here, Scarecrow?”

“Adam Jones let me go,” Cole said. “I'm free.”

“You have your papers?”

Cole had no such papers and didn't want to show Ansel that his slavemark had been shaped into a freemark. That would only make the slaver more curious. “No papers. But you're welcome to check with Mr. Jones. I didn't run away.”

“Hasn't been many weeks since I sold you to the Raiders, Scarecrow. They free their own from time to time, but that takes years, not weeks. And they would give you proof of your freedom.”

Adam Jones had helped Cole, Jace, Twitch, and Mira escape Skyport when the legion came looking for Mira. By issuing a command in code, he had his men slow down the legionnaires while Cole and his friends got away. But if pressed, Cole figured Adam would call him a runaway in order to keep up appearances. “Why do you care?”

Ansel turned his head and spat. “Have we been introduced? Slaves are my trade, Scarecrow. I'd turn in a runaway on principle, especially one I sold, and that's ignoring the reward.”

Cole knew he could end this conversation. He just needed to take off across the rooftops. But he didn't relish the idea of Ansel scouring the town for him. If his fellow slavers were also in town, it could end up causing serious trouble. And what about Dalton and Jenna?

Should he show Ansel the freemark? Would that evidence satisfy him? At this distance, Ansel might assume it was a trick. Even if the slaver could examine the legitimacy of the mark, the impossible change might only heighten his interest.

Cole bit his lip. No matter what else he tried, he needed to fish for information about the other slaves. This man might have all the answers he needed!

“What about my friends?” Cole asked. “Do you know where they ended up?”

“We sold the lot of them,” Ansel said. “Are you still trying to rescue them? I can sometimes admire stubbornness. But not stupidity.”

“Do you know where they went?”

“All the deals go through me,” he said.

“One of my friends is named Dalton. You remember him?”

“You showed special interest in Dalton and another called Jenna,” Ansel said. “They both went to Junction. That was temporary. They're long gone. They've been sent out across the five kingdoms by now.”

Cole heard a creak behind him. Whirling, he saw a balding, beefy slaver coming up to the roof through a hatch. It was Ham, who had greeted him in the basement spook alley back in Arizona.

For a moment, Cole stood frozen with surprise. If not for the faint sound of the hatch opening, he would have been blindsided and captured. Glowering, Ham rushed toward Cole. Pointing his sword to the roof across the alley, Cole gave the command and leaped across. The slaver dashed to the edge of the building, then eyed the gap, as if considering a jump.

“Send him away or I'm gone!” Cole called, ready to make a longer leap.

“Come back down, Ham,” Ansel growled.

Ham retreated and disappeared down the hatch.

“Now I see why you were so talkative,” Cole said.

“I do what I can,” Ansel said. “Might as well come down too, Scarecrow. That sword may let you fly, but once I'm on your trail, it's only a matter of time.”

“Don't bother,” Cole said. “I'm free.” He showed Ansel the back of his hand.

Ansel frowned up at him for a long moment. Reaching into his satchel, he withdrew a spyglass. He held it up to an eye, focused briefly, then lowered it. “That looks pretty good from here. How'd you manage it?”

“I told you, Adam Jones freed me. He had some guy he knew change the mark. That's why I don't have papers.” Though bending the truth, Cole was trying not to stray too far from what actually happened.

“What guy?” Ansel challenged. “I've heard of some needle masters adjusting bondmarks after slaves are set free. But nobody can erase one and replace it with a freemark.”

“This guy could,” Cole said.

“Why would Adam Jones do a thing like that for a new slave?”

“I saved some lives, including his.” This wasn't exactly true either, but Cole was trying to stay in the same neighborhood as the truth. After all, he
had
saved Mira.

“You're a liar,” Ansel said. “There's a lot more to this story.”

“I'm free,” Cole said. “Leave me alone, or I'll tell the authorities.”

Now Ansel grinned. Even from five stories away, the expression made Cole want to run and hide. Ansel removed his sickle from his satchel. “The authorities? Tell you what, Scarecrow. I'm a man of my word. You come down here, let me have a look at that freemark, and I promise not to harm you. We'll straighten things out between you, Adam Jones, and the authorities. If they agree that you're free, I'll pay you handsomely for the trouble. Run, and I'll find you, hack off that hand with the phony mark, burn it, and drag you back to the Sky Raiders in chains. Choice is yours.”

“How about option three?” Cole asked. “You already wrecked my life and the lives of my friends. How about you find some new slaves to pick on?”

“Not gonna happen, Scarecrow.”

“You might end up chasing me for years,” Cole said.

“Not likely,” Ansel replied. “If so, I can afford it. The trick is living within your means. You stash away a little here, a little there. Go ahead, run off, and I'll accept it as your admission of guilt.”