The Swordmage Trilogy Bundle, Volumes 1-3 (11 page)

The packed earth path became cobblestone, lined with neat little rows of cottages almost identical to his. Beyond them lie the larger buildings of the city proper. There were inns, common houses, and one or two buildings that Royce remembered from the days of his youth as popular brothels. They would pass through the market square and up the high street toward the royal palace, nestled safely inside the walls of the cavern.

Royce dared not take Tiadaria into the palace proper. Attitudes may have changed, but they wouldn’t have changed that much. He had the advantage of a purse full of coin, which would buy them a room and entertainment enough to keep her occupied while they finished their business here. They would be ready to
move on before long. He hoped.

~~~~

Royce had to chuckle at Tiadaria’s comically rapt expression as they passed through the market square. To someone who had never been outside their village, it must seem like a wondrous, miraculous place. Traders with crates tucked under their arms hawked their wares loudly and constantly, engaging in good natured bickering over the quality and price of those competing against them for customers. There were stalls of all sizes, shapes, and descriptions. The merchants that manned these stalls were as varied and foreign as the wares they peddled.

The spinner’s cart was laden heavily with so many bolts of cloth that Royce thought he would be able to fashion a sail for every ship in the Imperium’s fleet. There were heavy linens and fine silks and the array of colors was dazzling. Purple, green, and blue in one pile, gold, orange and red in another. Still more combinations were heaped up in the cart, scattered haphazardly as the spinner bargained with the women who were competing for his singular attention.

Next to the spinner, there was a tanner with fine pelts and furs and
buttery leathers that looked that they would be soft and warm against the skin. Then there were bowyers, armorers, and artisans. The market square was busy and crowded, a sea of bodies moving with the influence of some unseen tide. They made way for the travelers, but grudgingly, as it interfered with their bargaining.

They passed into the farmer’s section of the square and Royce’s mouth began to water. They had lived on field rations for the entire trip and the smell of spit-roasted meat was enough to set his stomach grumbling. He edged his horse nearer to the stall and called over the butcher’s boy, buying three skewers of beef glazed with a sweet-savory sauce. He tossed the boy a half-crown from his purse and waved off the need for any change. The boy scampered back to his Master to share his good fortune at such a generous purchase.

Royce passed the skewers onto Torus and Tiadaria and the three of them ate in silence as they wound through the streets toward the great statues. When he was finished, he licked the sauce from his fingers and wished that he had gotten twice as many of the sticks. Oh well, he mused, there would be plenty of time for eating after they had spoken with the King. He would see that Tiadaria got a good meal at the inn. It was likely, it being as late at is was in the day, that they would be invited to break bread in the palace. That wasn’t an invitation that one dismissed out of hand.

It wasn’t very long before they left the market square behind them and Tiadaria looked over her shoulder, her face a mask of wistful longing. Royce wished that he could just give her some pocket money and turn her loose to experience what the city offered, but he knew he couldn’t. The city would be dangerous for her. Not only because of her status as a slave, but because she wasn’t used to so many people in so confined a space. The narrow alleys, twists, and turns could be disorienting for someone who hadn’t seen more than a handful of stone buildings in their entire life.

At last they came to the inn that Torus had recommended. He told Royce that he would go on ahead, but meet him in the palace as soon as he had set his affairs in order. Royce nodded and said that he would be along as soon as he had settled the girl.

This late in the afternoon, the common room of the inn was mostly empty. There were a few older men playing at dice in the corner, but the evening patrons who would come for a hot meal and cold ale hadn’t yet begun to arrive. A young woman with fire red hair and eyes so green that Royce thought they could have been cut from emeralds stood behind the bar, rubbing oil into the worn wood. The girl was wearing a high-collared frock that made her look much older than her years. She looked up at them as they approached, her welcoming smile turning a trifle colder as she saw the collar around Tia’s neck.

“A room, please,” Royce said firmly, ignoring the look of disapproval. “Two beds, if you have it. A bed and a cot if you don’t. Two nights.”

“We book by the week,” she replied shortly. “Two crowns. Two and a half if you want meals too.”

He pulled his purse from under his belt and withdrew a five crown piece. The coin was thick and heavy, the namesake crown embossed on one side and an underscored numeral five on the other. He placed it on the counter and pushed it toward the girl, who turned it over in her hand for a moment before it disappeared into her apron. She produced a ring with a single simple key and pointed to the stairs at the end of the common room.

“Third floor,” she said without a trace of her previous animosity. “All the way at the end of the hall, room twelve. My name is Ecera, if you need anything.”

“Thank you, I’m sure we’ll be fine.”

They stopped by the livery to retrieve their saddlebags and then climbed the common room stairs to their floor. There were only four rooms on the top floor of the inn, and theirs was the furthest away from the rest of the customers and lodgers. This suited Royce just fine. The fewer people that knew who they were or that they were there, the better. Things were going to be bad enough when he and Torus spoke with the King. He didn’t need to be compounding problems.

Once inside, Royce slid the bolt into place. The room had two beds, a table, and not much else. A hand printed card on the table listed meal times and directions to the outhouse, which was behind the inn proper, near the stables. He tossed his saddlebags on the table and looked at Tiadaria, who was standing by the window looking out over the city.

“I need to meet Torus at the palace. Stay in the inn until I get back and then maybe we’ll have time to see the city.”

“Yes, Sir,” she replied, without turning from the window. There was an odd hitch to her voice, but Royce shrugged it off. She was probably still in awe of everything they had seen so recently. He paused a moment, torn between wanting to stay with Tiadaria and ensure that she was settled and discharging his duty to Torus and the King. In the end, his honor won out, and he turned on his heel and left the room, pulling the door shut behind him.

* * *

Tiadaria heard the door click shut behind her and she waited until the Captain’s footsteps faded away before she released a long, wavering sigh. She hadn’t wanted to cry in front of the Captain. She didn’t want him feeling bad for things he had no control over. Still, the attitude of the girl behind the counter had hurt her in a way she hadn’t been expecting.

Torus had warned them that things might be made difficult by her collar, but she had chosen to believe...believe what? That he had been lying? That somehow she was different? Her questions were answered only by bitter tears, which she swiped away angrily

Slave or not, she had had the opportunity to see the most wonderful things on their way into the city, she reminded herself. There were those, especially among her clan, who would never see the city of men, much less be able to stay there. She had never seen as much coin as she had during the few weeks she had been with the Captain. Her father, the Folkledre of her clan, had once shown her the entirety of the clan’s fortune, which amounted to about ten crowns.

The Captain carried five times that amount as a matter of course. Things were much different here. In the clans, one made what one needed, grew it, or did without. During the trade festivals in the spring and fall, the clans would gather to barter for items from the other tribes, but during the rest of the year, a clansman was expected to be self-sufficient.

For the first time, Tiadaria felt as if she was far from home. It wasn’t just the distance, either. She felt as if she was becoming more accustomed to being with the Captain than she had ever been with her clan. She had vowed that she would become more than a slave. Hadn’t she started down the path to just that end? She had learned to fight and was getting better at it every day. She had traveled to the most important city in the Imperium with a former servant of the King and his current Lieutenant. If she wasn’t shaping up to be more than a simple slave, the company she kept certainly said otherwise.

There was a soft rapping at the door and Tia jumped in surprise. She went to the door and slid the cover of the eye slit back. It was Ecera, the girl from the counter. Tia frowned. There had certainly seemed to be no love lost between the fire-headed girl and herself when she arrived, what could she possibly want now? Comforted by the fact that she was probably a much more skilled fighter than the boarding girl, she opened the door a crack.

“Listen, I’m sorry we got off on the wrong foot, may I come in?” There was a pause. “Please?”

Squashing down her fighter’s instincts, Tia opened the door and allowed Ecera to come into the room. They were maybe a year or so apart in age, Tia thought. Ecera had seemed so much older when she had been talking to the Captain, but that was probably just her demeanor. She seemed genuinely contrite now and nodded courteously to Tia as she stepped into the room, her coarse brown skirt swirling around her ankles.

She plunked down on the bed and looked at Tia expectantly. Unsure of what to do, Tia pushed the door shut with a click and sat down on the bed opposite the one that Ecera had perched on.

“You don’t say much, do you?” Ecera asked, her head cocked to one side. She regarded Tia for such a long time that she began feel her face flush with embarrassment. “It’s okay,” the boarding girl continued. “My father, he owns the inn, says that I talk enough for three old spinsters anyway. I’m pretty sure I can hold up my end of the conversation and yours.”

“Oh,” she said, before Tia could get a word in. “Your Master asked me to bring you this.” She took a gauzy scarf from her belt pouch. Slipping from the bed, she arranged it around Tia’s neck, hiding the collar from those who might casually look her over. “There you go,” she said with a small smile. “Much better.”

“Thank you,” Tia said, her voice very quiet.

Ecera cocked her head to the other side, peering at her. Tiadaria was starting to get frustrated. She hated feeling as if she was some object of curiosity to be studied. She was about to snap.

“You’re not like other slaves I’ve seen,” the innkeeper's daughter declared in final judgment. “You’re much prettier and much less black-and-blue.”

“The Captain treats me very well,” Tia said, somewhat defensively.

“I’m sure he does,” Ecera replied, patting her knee awkwardly. “He trusts you a lot. I’ve never known a Master to leave a slave to her own devices without chaining her to the floor.”

“The Captain has never kept me in chains,” Tiadaria replied, stiffening. “Not since the days just after he...” She trailed off. She had never admitted to anyone else that she had been sold. It felt strange and unpleasant and she found herself wishing that she hadn’t opened the door in the first place.

“The days after he bought you,” Ecera said. She leaned forward and laid her palm against Tia’s cheek. Tia, startled by the unexpected show of compassion, withdrew from the touch.

“It’s okay.” Ecera’s voice had taken on an odd roughness. She reached up and pulled down the collar of her frock, exposing the thin metal band that encircled her throat.

“You’re a slave?”

Ecera nodded.

“I am. Well,” she chuckled without much warmth. “I was. Father sold me when the inn wasn’t doing so well. He used the money to turn things around and he bought me back from my...from the man who purchased me.”

Ecera said the last few words in a rush, as if it hurt her to say them, or even think them. Tia’s mind was drawn back to the wagon in the woods and the horrible, painful death that the slaver had promised her. She shuddered.

“It wasn’t so bad,” Ecera said, mistaking Tia’s shudder. “Just...some Masters aren’t as kind or thoughtful as yours. I wouldn’t go as far to say you’re lucky...but you’re luckier than some.”

“I’m sorry,” Tiadaria said, and she meant it. For all of her anguish at being taken as a slave and kept against her will, the entire ordeal had brought her to the Captain, who had done nothing but treat her with relative kindness and teach her. She dared to guess that she was a better tactician now than even her father. She was certainly more skilled with a blade.

“It’s okay,” Ecera said briskly, rubbing her hands against her skirt as if she could brush away the painful memory. “I’m home now, and that’s all that matters. I may forever be a slave to everyone else, but at least I have a roof over my head and my family back. Some of us don’t even get that much.”

“Why not just have your collar removed?”

Ecera looked at her with surprise.

“It never comes off. Didn’t anyone tell you that?”

Tia remembered the slaver telling her that she would be marked forever as a slave, but she obviously had never had the inclination to ask exactly what that meant. She had never thought to ask the Captain either, and he had never volunteered the information. A sudden bitterness welled up in her like poison.

“No,” she replied sullenly. “No one ever did.”

Ecera’s eyes searched Tia’s face. Her expression was one of pity and that was almost harder to deal with than the realization that she would be collared for the rest of her life. She didn’t want Ecera’s pity, or anyone’s. Collar or not, she was stronger than any woman she had ever known.

Tia’s defiant train of thought must have been obvious. Ecera looked at her closely and pursed her lips in a determined line.

“Do you know why they call it witchmetal?”