Simon Levack - Shadow of the Lords

‘You can’t go!’ the boy cried. ‘I’ll go instead!’

‘No — look, you don’t even exist, as far as the law’s concerned.’ Having been brought up among barbarians and crept back unnoticed into the city, Nimble had no parish and, apart from me, no family. ‘Even if you did, he could charge you with complicity in Shining Light’s crimes.’ I saw him wince at my brutal reminder of his dead lover and the vicious cycle ofdeceit and murder he had been drawn into. ‘I’m a slave, remember? There’s not much he can do to me, except sell me. He’ll have enough to do covering up his activities today, without breaking the law further by ill-treating a slave. Look, I’m not really taking a risk.’ The illogic of my own words was painfully plain to me, and I could see from the look in my son’s eyes that he saw it too, but my brother and the policeman took it up.

‘He’s got a point,’ Shield said. ‘The merchants will be all over him for what he’s doing now. If I were him, I’d be treading very carefully for a while.’

‘You’re young and your father isn’t,’ Lion said harshly. ‘You’ve got more to lose!’

But what convinced Nimble in the end was not words but force. He suddenly bolted, springing forward and darting off in the direction of the merchant’s house, but Lion was ready for that. He caught him before he had gone two steps, and held him fast, ignoring his struggles, his cries and the knife waving impotently in the air in front of him.

‘If you’re going,’ Lion grunted at me, ‘I suggest you go. Now!’

Nimble suddenly stopped writhing in his arms.

I got one last look at him before my eyes misted over completely.

‘Sorry, son,’ I mumbled brokenly. ‘I wish I’d … Goodbye!’

It was a short walk to the merchant’s house, but long enough.

Twice I stopped, standing still in the middle of the street, while canoes sailed past on the canal beside me, their occupants going carelessly about their daily business, until I had mastered my fear enough to carry on. Both times I made myself imagine Lily at the Otomi captain’s mercy, the four-bladed sword at her throat.

What are you worrying about? I asked myself, as I prepared to turn the last corner. The worst he can do is sell you. And the Emperor will have the raiment of the god back, he’ll be grateful for that …

I could not make myself believe it.

I was going to be sold for an offering to the gods. What then? I wondered. Would my flesh be charred and blistered and split in the Fire Sacrifice, or pierced and lacerated in the Arrow Sacrifice, when my blood would start from so many wounds at once it would fall like the rain the priests would pray for as I died?

As I walked through the entrance to the merchant’s courtyard, the grins on the faces of the waiting warriors told their own story.