Hostages, page 32
It worked for the moment, since he was able, one at a time in a single, very tightly made road of dancing gold and silver, to send about twenty of the coins through the air, to land at the feet of the women. It only took about ten minutes to go from his room to the dock, he realized. Which was much faster than riding in an ox wagon had been.
When the coins started to tinkle as they hit the stone of the street, the dock master pointed. A lot of the men were frightened, but a portion weren’t, and when one of them moved to pick them up, greed in his eyes, the dock master stopped him.
“I do not know by what power these arrived, but given the timing, I have to assume they are for the upkeep and passage home for these ladies.”
Even the greedy man stopped then, and handed them over, with only a wistful gaze. In turn, that fellow picked them all up and handed them to the women, rather publicly.
Then he spoke, his voice forceful and for all to hear.
“Now, I don’t rightly know what to do here. Do any of you?”
The answer to that was no.
One of the men, shrugged.
“Our next cargo will take us to Barquea, which works for one of you ladies. The one from Sendeth can probably book passage from there, as well, since you’ll want to sail around the horn, I don’t know about the others.”
It took time, but they worked it out, having some resources to start from and the goodwill of the men there. Anders didn’t even have to tell them not to let the women come to more harm. The soldiers did that. Calling for more troops, in case the captains of the ships they’d escaped from tried to retake them.
It wasn’t over, only just being started, but Anders felt that it was a good enough thing for the time being. He wasn’t wild about the men being allowed to simply leave, but that was probably a rather good idea. They weren’t slavers, they’d only owned slaves. Out on the high seas, and never in Istlan. Their laws didn’t apply there, in the vast waters.
Still, Anders tracked each of the captains down, for each of the four boats, and scoured their minds. They were, naturally, all rather upset by what had happened. Then, they’d known it was a risk, keeping women like that. Easier than paying a woman when in dock, but none of them were planning on harming anyone over it. One of them was simply planning to get another, as soon as he could, in the slave market of Wodet. That was, it seemed, an island. One that Anders had never even heard of before.
Standing, his legs stiff, and back not bending properly, from his long time of sitting, he moved to the galley, to find, predictably, that the meal was over, and cleaned up, with Depak, Duke Ford, Lisa, Salina and Jasmin all sitting there, waiting for him.
He smiled, still feeling floating and disrupted from the trance he’d been in. Tired from the work of it, even if he’d managed it, well enough.
“Oh, food! Thank you, Lissa.” He started to eat, even as everyone stared at him. He was starving though, so kept on with the food until it was done. Then he wiped his mouth with a linen cloth and looked at everyone else.
“I was looking for slaves at sea and found several women in chains on various ships docked in Istlan. Slavery isn’t allowed there, so, when their chains fell off and the doors opened for some reason, they were able to make it to land. The Port Master and about a hundred sailors protected them. Then, after a small rain of coins happened, worked out that they needed to aid them in returning home.” He glanced at Depak then. “One of them was from Barquea. From the Big Fish?”
The man went still then, but nodded.
“She’s... Well?”
Anders snorted.
“After three seasons in chains being raped hundreds of times? No. I don’t think so. I told her that I was the Great One of Istlan, to make her feel better about escaping. Protected. I imagine she’ll be rather annoyed with me when she works out that we don’t even have such a person there.”
He was still hungry, but set that aside for a moment. It would fade, if he left it long enough.
Depak gave him a frank look then, and held it.
“Perhaps. Then, if I were the one enslaved, I don’t know that a title would be that important to me, compared to the aid being given.”
Then, as if it only made sense, everyone nodded.
Anders just hoped he hadn’t started a war.
Especially since he was planning to do it again, until not a single person was being held against their will, anywhere in the inner sea.
Chapter twenty-two
Anders stood, only a few days later, on the dock of the northern port of Barquea. It was early in the day, so, without hesitating, since they were under orders to race into place, or at least he’d taken things that way, he grabbed a handful of coins, and ran toward the carting business in the town there. His luggage, which was two sturdy travel packs and two boxes filled with heavy metals, followed him, as he rushed ahead.
Everyone following, even if his plan had actually been to get the coaches and wagons around, if they were even available, and go back to the ship, to pick everyone else up. It wasn’t until he was actually to the rather attractive wagon barn, which was made of stone, and in a familiar style, since he’d done part of the work on it, that he realized his time playing at being the leader there was over. He was either a foreign military man, there to aid the Sula and his forces in battle, or a prince of decently low standing.
Tenth in line for the throne.
On the other hand, Depak Sona was the Great One of the entire land there and his apprentices were both army captains. So he stopped, and looked back, to find that everyone else had come with him, and were at least visible. The last in line was Walden, but he kept stopping every twenty or so paces, and turned around, checking behind them carefully.
Using his eyes.
Anders had simply run. Not as fast as he could, but trusting that no one would simply be trying to execute him there. A thing he didn’t actually know. It was very possible that he’d earned some enemies there in that very town, in fact.
Kip was directly behind him, carrying even more gear, since it seemed he had Ezola and Collin’s bags for them. Those two had kept up, scurrying well enough, not having an extra load with them. They made enough of a racket that a familiar man came out. The older fellow who had taken over the inn and shipping concern there.
The man grinned on seeing them.
“Prince Anders! Great One! Apprentice Great Ones! Welcome. I didn’t know you were all coming. Do you need rooms at the inn? Food, or something to drink?” His voice was smooth and his Scara, while not what was spoken in the palace of the Sula was clear and crisp. Showing that effort had been put into his presentation that way.
Smiling back, Anders shook his head.
“We need to get to La’usa Tet, as quickly as possible. Would it be possible to rent some coaches and drivers?”
The man blinked, then made a harsh face. One that felt troubled, not upset.
“Those are out at the moment. We have five wagons, but that’s all. Drivers for them, since we hired some men on for that, but... They aren’t fine conveyances. You have the Great One here, and Princesses. People from a far-off land, as well?”
It was a hazard of showing up without warning, he supposed, so moved in.
“Four of the wagons, then? We’ll ride in the back. Since it’s that, or trying to run the whole way, a wagon sounds lovely. Also, we don’t have anyone that fine with us at all. That man simply looks like that Eta fellow, or so I hear? I’m...” He focused, and muttered, changing his skin, eye and hair color. All to brown.
That was complicated, and to do it correctly he needed a glass to look in, but instead of making fun of him, Lissa moved over, took his hand, and did the work for him.
It took some moments, but then she did Kip, Mary and Alice, as Depak Sona worked on Niven and Walden. Not Duke Ford or Baron Kilroy, of course. Not the hostages, either. Anders understood that portion, since it would be easier to find them if they ran off, that way. Not that he’d blame them for doing so. Trying to kill him was, at best, going to end in him dying and them being executed for it.
Which wasn’t the likely outcome at all.
No, that was both of them simply dying, as he reacted to whatever they tried to do next. If they were intelligent about it, they’d at least wait for him to be near the front, so they could make it seem like he’d perished in combat. It was one of the only ways they could fulfill their orders and survive it.
They’d both be much better off not doing that, of course. Their brother had broken the spirit and word of the treaty, sending them with such orders, of course. Anders hadn’t mentioned the idea to King Matheus or even Master Tolan, but he was tempted to simply make Carlton Caldas pass in his sleep, or to force him to have an accident, when he went out. It would take a lot of work to make it seem real, but given most of the hatred for him came from that direction, it might well make his own life much simpler.
He passed over some coins, not counting them at all. It was at least five gold in all, though half of it was in silver. The man went wide eyed, on seeing it.
“This is more than enough. I didn’t know that we’d be paid for taking you, since we were gifted the facilities here, by the Sula...” Which had meant them, of course.
The people standing in front of the man.
Anders shrugged and waved his hand a bit. The right one, that was now free of coin and slightly damp from having carried them.
“We need to hurry along? I can help set up the wagons, if need be?”
That, his offering to help, was refused, politely, the man dashing off at a firm walk, calling for his men. They actually ran, once told it was an emergency. For their portion, they staged themselves, their gear still floating, next to the large barn building, on the left-hand side. The men worked inside, and it took a third of an hour, even working quickly.
As they waited, Anders moved in front of Depak, and bowed. It got the man’s attention, his eyebrows going up, expressively.
“Command is turned over to you, Great One Eta. The War Mages of Istlan stand ready to assist you as orders allow.” He used a martial bow, palms pressed together, his gaze on the man, constantly.
The older man, who seemed fit and within the range of one who might be sent to war, or at least be in command of such things, bowed, his palms down, matching Anders in locking with his gaze.
“I have the command. War mages here wear robes, when not in the field. Perhaps in the colors of your position?”
Moving quickly, thinking as he did it, Anders dressed their people in such clothing, except for Baron Kilroy. Seeming surprised, everyone else was dressed that way inside some moments, Including Princess Jasmin. Truly, that was more of a conceit than her actual position, but he was claiming her as one of his people, from Istlan. A master of her art, which wasn’t strictly true, but as with the rest of them, it would make sense to the people on the ground there.
The outfits all matched, being walking robes, in a heavy silk, colored a shining brown and a lustrous red color that glinted in the cool afternoon. It wasn’t cold there, the way he was used to, but it was winter. Rain threatened, but wasn’t falling yet.
As if to mock his very thoughts, a fine drop hit him on the right cheek.
Glancing at Depak, he shrugged.
“We need a disguise for you. This isn’t a great time to have a throng around us. Nothing against the people here. Would you allow me?”
He reached out, the man seeming skeptical as to what would happen. That it was only his flesh being made light, but in a pattern familiar to Yanse, with red hair and freckled skin, was acceptable, however. The face was still his, but Anders had to admit, if he hadn’t done the work, he wouldn’t have recognized him in a crowd. Not without using magic.
His robes were turned into the same ones that Anders had on, but in gold and tan, with a badge that had a falcon on it. On seeing that, the Princesses did the same thing. Lissa came to him for her personal coloration, of course. That was interesting to see. She wore the skin of an Istlan woman very well, actually.
Salina was fine that way, but seemed off. Part of that was down to Alice having done her coloration, and putting her in heavy, if fake, court makeup. It was well enough done for a disguise, however. The kind of thing a fine woman from there might have attempted, even on the road.
So, matching, in their strange clothing, they loaded into the wagons as they came out, being careful not to spook the horses. That happened quickly, with Depak looking at all of them, one at a time. Skipping only the hostages.
Then he spoke in very clear Scara. It was commanding.
“I’ll ride in the lead wagon. Anders, you’re in the last one, as a guard. Constant vigilance, using all available means, from everyone. We should be safe, but that’s a very good time to take people unaware. Signal instantly if you find anything. Salina, you’re in the middle with the dignitaries. If we come under attack, protect them. Even if it means dying. Lissa, if you’ll instruct Niven and Walden in courtly manners? Do that in the third wagon. Move.”
The words were different seeming, specifically with the boys, but Anders understood the plan. At least he thought he might. They had to leave the younger two behind. Even taking him to war was likely in doubt. The same was true of Lissa and maybe even Salina. If they were left at court, they’d need to navigate the world there. They had the language, and Walden was used to life in a castle, if not the palace of Sula Darian. Niven was of noble birth, and had his father there as well.
They’d be fine.
Especially if they were put in as guards for important people. It was a duty they could actually hold down, if it was needed. The trick there would be in not making the whole thing out of whispers and cloth for them. Whatever they did needed to be real. Even if it was moving them to some Army base to shovel manure out of stalls or to act as forward healers, behind the battle lines.
Anders climbed into the wagon, the last one to move, in the far back. He had Collin and Ezola with him, he noticed. Looking around, he searched the world using magic first thing. Then, when that was clear, he looked in ten different ways. For targets that probably wouldn’t be engaging with them at all. For people who wanted to steal from him. From them. To those who wanted them dead.
Who wanted him dead.
Interestingly, at least in that moment, the only person in the whole world who actually cared about him, Anders Brolly specifically dying, was off in western Istlan. Standing in a glass house, frowning as the farmers working it had rows of green starts growing nicely. Carlton Caldas.
The man tensed, then spoke. Anders couldn’t hear it, at first, not until he linked with it.
When it came to his ears, the spell muttered, the others with him glancing his way, he heard something rather different than he would have expected.
“That woman... I shouldn’t have been led by her. Brolly is too great a foe. Worse, I think... I could have simply been kind to him and he would have given us gifts and gone away, wouldn’t he, Father?”
There was a sound then, of something being moved. It scraped, but Anders couldn’t identify it.
Duke Caldas spoke in return, sounding older than he had when Anders had last seen him.
“You took your chance. Agreed, she misled us. Both of us. Those magics she passed to Collin and Ezola were... Raising the dead... Turning people to stone? If Collin uses that and fails, we’re all dead. Matty told me through his wizard that we can’t beat the boy if it comes to it. That he’d have to back Anders against us. We can’t even pass word along to Collin, requesting he hold his hand, in time. I sent a letter, but it’s chasing them to a different land. This might well have undone us.”
There was a gasp.
“I... Hate him. So very much. That’s why I took those magics. Why I sent my own family to what has to be their deaths, on the off chance of him dying. He tortured me. Me! I...” There was a sob, the man crying.
When he spoke again, his voice was harsh and rasping.
“I hear a wagon? Horses. I fear my mind is fading already. Brolly did that to me! Only... That isn’t true. I hate him, but what did he do, really? Escape death at the hands of assassins? Prevent me from riding out or striking at him again? Would I have done any less, if it had been me being hunted? I know it wouldn’t have been different at all. But I can’t let it go! Only, I think, father, that I might be the one in the wrong on the matter. What can I do to save this?”
There was no answer.
Finally, the voice came again.
“I could call him out. A duel. Demand a fight with only swords?”
That got a dark laugh from the father.
“Duels don’t work that way. You call him out, he picks the weapons. Besides, we already have a treaty in place. The best thing for that would be for us to do nothing. To not let Collin deploy that talisman, and to act kindly. We won’t ever be friends, Anders Brolly and us, but there are a great many people in this world that I’m not friends with who don’t want me dead. The problem is one of distance, of course. If your brother acts before we send word... I fear that we may have lost them both, already. Matty told me that they hid the origin of the first spell from Brolly, but how long can that last? When he learns that Ezola tried to end him, he’ll have no choice but to act.”
For the moment, Anders agreed with the man. Then, from deep inside, he felt a warmth. A hint of humanity. From Farad. It wasn’t a directive, or an order, just a gentle touch of something that, for the life of him, felt like a hand on his back.
Not telling him what to do, only letting him feel like a real person might have.
So he spoke.
“Collin, you have a talisman? Your father and brother Carlton don’t want you to turn me to stone. Here, one moment, I’ll bring you all into the spell. We’re in the back of a wagon, in Barquea, riding to the palace here at the moment. Ezola is with us.”
Carl yelled.
“A voice in my mind! My ears! Brolly, he seeks to end us all!”
Anders snorted.
“Lulo, Ezla, Loduk, Roveth, Iktham, nothoru fen ot...” He waited then, and spoke, even as Carlton kept yelling.
