Canavan Trudi - The Traitor Queen

“How many?” she asked, unable to keep the concern from her voice.

He frowned. “I can’t tell you that. But… we are doing something about helping them.”

“By trying to grow it?”

“To take control of the supply at least. To find a cure or breed a less damaging drug if we can.” Kallen sighed. “You are partly right. We may reduce our chances to acquire seeds if Skellin is killed. We can’t risk attempting to catch him. Yet.” He met her gaze levelly and a fierce determination entered his gaze. “I promise once we have what we need we will find and remove Skellin. That may include accepting your friend’s offer, if he is still willing to take the risk.”

Lilia nodded. She considered what he had told her. It made sense, and she could see no hint that he was lying. There was no advantage in holding back from telling him her idea.

“Did you know there’s a new perfume being sold in the city that is made from roet flowers?”

His eyebrows rose and the spark of interest she had expected flared in his eyes. “No.”

“They have to get the flowers from somewhere.” She smiled. “Maybe the Guild should investigate. Anyway, I should be getting to the next class.”

“Yes. Don’t be late…” he said distractedly.

She left him standing there. When she looked back she saw that, as always, his gaze had fixed on the distance again, but this time he wore an expression of startled realisation.

It was almost unbearably stuffy and hot in the cart, and Lorkin had lost count of the times he’d had to grab his nose to stop sneezing. Like the other slaves in the vehicle, he was covered in a grey powder meant to kill off body lice. For the same reason, his hair had been shaved off. His ankles were chained together and to a metal loop in the centre of the cart’s floor.

His back itched and burned where he’d been whipped, and he had to resist the constant urge to Heal the welts. There had been no reason for the punishment other than the driver establishing his superiority, after Ashaki Achati’s slave master had warned that “this one is trouble”. He resisted gazing in horror at his fellow passengers and tried to hide the anger he felt at their fate. They were the rejects of the city’s slaves, too old, damaged, ugly or disobedient to be of use to their former owners. As far as they knew, they were being shipped off to work in a mine in the south of the Steelbelt mountains.

Bartering had been quick and few questions had been asked, to hasten the sale. Apparently some Sachakans believed that a slave who had been born into a household ought to be cared for by that household if he or she had worked hard for their master, or was crippled in their service. Sometimes they followed the mine cart around, calling shame upon owners who sold slaves to it. None of these protestors had pursued the cart today. It had trundled to the edge of the city without attracting any attention.

Now it was rolling slowly out into the countryside. Lorkin closed his eyes and thought back to his escape from the Guild House.

Tayend had come up with the solution to getting Lorkin out without the watchers noticing. They knew it was likely that the watchers had counted how many slaves Achati had brought with him, so he had gone out to the carriage and told one that he was being loaned to the Guild House to help keep an eye on Lorkin, but in truth to spy on the magicians.

Once the slave had been accepted with thanks and sent off to join the rest, Lorkin had donned Achati’s clothing, padding his torso by stuffing his clothes with clean rags. Achati had put on a slave’s wrap. It would have been amusing to watch Tayend instructing the dignified Ashaki how to walk with a slave’s hunch, if they hadn’t all been so worried that their plan would fail.

As always, the courtyard of the Guild House had been lit by one lamp and they had both kept their faces turned from it. At Tayend’s suggestion they had kept their actions simple: Lorkin strode out of the House and into the carriage, Achati had hurried after and climbed onto the back of the carriage. They’d left the Guild House without any interference. All the way to Achati’s home, Lorkin had sat rigid in the carriage, waiting for a call for them to halt, but none came. Once the carriage passed through the gate of Achati’s mansion, the Ashaki climbed inside the carriage and they’d quickly exchanged clothing.

Lorkin’s rescuer had told him to stay put, then left to have a quiet conversation with a man Lorkin learned later was the household’s slave master. Achati had returned to explain his plan. Once again Lorkin would be disguised as a slave, only this time he must be prepared to endure much harsher treatment — and hope that there were Traitors among Achati’s all-male slaves.

I also have to hope that they saw and recognised me, found out I’d been put on the cart, were able to pass on messages to other Traitors, and that the Traitors are actually able to catch up with the cart, stop it and free me without revealing their, and my, identities.

Thinking about it like that, it sounded a crazy scheme with far too many ways it could all go wrong.

What’s the worst that could happen? I might have to go all the way to the mine. The Steelbelt Ranges run along the border between Sachaka and Kyralia. How hard would it be to free myself with magic, and travel the rest of the way to Kyralia?

How hard depended on whether Sachakan magicians ran the mine. Or if Ichani lurked in the mountains.

I should leave the cart before I get there, when there are no Sachakan magicians around, but we are close to the mountains. If only I knew what Sachaka was like down in the southern corner. Does the wasteland extend as far as the sea? Do the Ichani roam that far?

The cart began to slow. Opening his eyes, Lorkin glanced around to see both fear and hope in the faces of the other slaves. He heard the sound of a stomach growling. Perhaps they were going to be given food and water.

The cart stopped and he heard voices outside.

“The well’s likely to collapse. I don’t want to risk one of mine. They’re healthy and useful,” a haughty voice said.

The driver replied in a low, wheedling voice. Lorkin could not make out the words.

“Name the price,” the haughty one commanded.

A pause, then the cart shifted and two sets of footsteps moved around to the rear. The lock rattled, then the doors opened. Bright light flooded in, blinding Lorkin.

“That one will do.”

“He’s trouble.”

“Then you’ll be glad to be rid of him. If he survives and is troublesome, I’ll sell him back to you. Here.”

The clink of coins followed. Lorkin’s eyes had begun to adjust to the light. He could see an Ashaki standing next to the driver, who was leaning in to unlock the chains of one of the slaves.

Lorkin’s heart stopped as he realised those chains were his own.

For a wild moment he considered blasting his way out of the cart with magic, but stopped himself with an effort. Wherever you end up, there will be Traitors, he told himself. They will find you. They will free you.

Whatever work this Ashaki planned for him sounded dangerous, but at least Lorkin could use magic to protect himself. At least none of these other poor slaves will have to risk their lives doing it.

“Come on,” the driver said, grabbing Lorkin’s leg and pulling. Lorkin hauled himself to his feet, stepping over the legs of other slaves between him and the open doors. He had to jump to the ground, and the restraining chains prevented him keeping his balance. He fell face first on the ground.

Well, at least that saves me the humiliation of throwing myself on the ground before my new owner.

“Stay there,” the haughty voice said.

The man waited until the cart had driven away before he spoke again. By then Lorkin had stolen enough glances to either side to see there were two burly male slaves standing alongside him and the Ashaki.