Барб Хенди - Dog in the Dark

“They are on land,” she said immediately and looked to Fréthfâre.

Dänvârfij swallowed an irritated reply to this obvious comment; otherwise the small one would still be watching the port.

“Is the traitor still with them?” Fréthfâre asked.

“Yes, but they are only five. The traitor, Magiere, Léshil, Leanâlhâm, and the majay-hì.”

“Not Osha?” Dänvârfij asked.

“No.”

This troubled her. An outcast anmaglâhk was loose, unwatched and unaccounted for, in the world.

“There are issues with their quarters,” Én’nish went on. “It is a large hotel of three stories. I do not know their location inside, and there are iron grates on all windows and armed guards at the entrance. We cannot take the guards without being noticed. Their presence—and the windows—suggests further security within.”

Dänvârfij took a slow breath. If this was the case, their quarry could not be attacked within the building, even if the targets were located before Dänvârfij’s team entered. She glanced at Fréthfâre.

“What do you counsel?”

Fréthfâre hesitated. “Additional surveillance. We must know more, such as their length of stay. One on watch there, one at the port, and one to gather information regarding their ship’s schedule. If the vessel is to remain several days, we have time to study our quarry’s movements and plan their capture in the open.”

“Agreed,” Dänvârfij said, for it was what she had calculated, and that boded well for later cooperation. “Én’nish, watch the hotel. Rhysís, to the port. I will check in with Eywodan and Tavithê, and then gather information about the Cloud Queen. ”

One by one they left the filthy inn. While it was clear they would not fulfill their purpose tonight, Dänvârfij took relief in knowing that they would soon enough.

Chap sat on his haunches in one of their luxurious third-floor rooms and could not believe Leesil had brought the boy here. Magiere appeared unsettled but did not argue. Brot’an stood near the window and stared hard at Leesil as if he’d lost his mind.

Perhaps Leesil had.

Only Wayfarer took direct action where the boy was concerned. Upon seeing his dripping clothes, she pulled back the bed’s plush quilt and stripped off the blanket beneath to wrap around Paolo. At least her presence distracted the urchin, for he kept staring at her in wonder.

“We must find him some dry clothes,” Wayfarer said, looking to Magiere.

Those words broke the tense silence. Brot’an began pacing in irritation, while Leesil unwrapped the skewers and held one out. Paolo’s hollow eyes fixed on it, though he hesitated until Wayfarer encouraged him. Then he grabbed it and tore into the meat and vegetables with his teeth like a starving cub.

Wayfarer watched him with a startled expression, but for once she did not appear remotely afraid of a human stranger. Paolo finished every bite off the skewer and licked the stick itself. Leesil shooed Wayfarer up, turned her to face away from the boy, and stripped the blanket off him.

“Take off wet clothes,” he instructed.

Numbly obeying, the boy relaxed slightly once he was wrapped in the warm blanket again. He dropped onto the floor and leaned against the wall beyond the bed’s foot. Wayfarer turned around with another judgmental glance at Leesil, likely about the woman in the foyer.

Now that he and Magiere had taken on the girl as their responsibility, whatever infatuation she had once carried for him had transformed into something else concerning his fidelity to Magiere. But Leesil didn’t notice Wayfarer’s misguided judgment.

He appeared caught in the throes of an overwhelming flash of protection concerning the boy. Chap knew better than to argue with him and looked to Magiere instead.

This boy was not their prime concern, but for the moment Leesil had forced the issue.

—Time for—answers—from—the boy—

Magiere glanced down at him.

—I saw—memories— ... —Men—women—locked in—a ship’s hold—

Magiere poured water from the porcelain pitcher into a waiting cup on the side table and brought it to Paolo. She waited until he finished.

“Why were those men after you?” she asked. “It’s no crime to leave a ship, that I know of.”

Paolo looked up at her, hesitated, and appeared to grow more aware of his surroundings.

“It is, if you’re property,” he said quietly, setting the cup on the floor and pulling the blanket tighter.

Even Brot’an stopped pacing. “What do mean by ‘property’?”

Paolo looked up at the tall, scarred elf, and his mouth closed.

“From what Wynn’s told us,” Magiere said, “slavery is illegal in the Numan lands. The captain of a ship can’t own him.”

“When have most humans ever obeyed their own laws?” Brot’an countered.

“Drist is not in the Numan countries,” Paolo said quietly. “It is a ... free port. I was traded away to cover a debt, and the captain now owns me.”

Chap closed his eyes. They were up to their necks now—the boy was an indentured servant or laborer. Leesil had broken what constituted law here by harboring stolen property.

Leesil crouched down. “What you mean?”

“My father was unable to pay our tithe for the last three years. Our chief covered the debt in exchange for services. Father couldn’t leave the farm with no one else to work but my mother and three younger sisters. So our chief sold me into service to cover the loss—sold me to a captain bringing workers and laborers up north.”

“Sounds like slavery to me,” Magiere said.

Chap clenched his jaws. Now Magiere was turning to Leesil’s side.

“In my years among human nations, I have seen this arrangement often,” Brot’an said. “Indentured servitude is a binding agreement. If what the boy says is true, we are now thieves in possession of stolen property.”

Chap concluded this as well, but Leesil whirled on the balls of his feet.

“Legal or not, it’s slavery!” he shouted back in Belaskian. “The strong—the rich, the so-called nobles—controlling the weak and poor ... like livestock!”

Paolo, not understanding what was said, shrank against the wall in confusion. Even Wayfarer winced at the open anger in Leesil’s voice.

All this was getting out of control, though Chap was at a loss for how to stop it.

Leesil knew what it meant to be a slave and worse. He had grown up as a spy and assassin, like his father and mother, serving Lord Darmouth in the Warlands. He’d betrayed peasants and nobles alike, and had even killed them upon the warlord’s command. Only one, perhaps two at most, of the three members of Leesil’s family were ever allowed—at the same time—to go beyond their home on the lake’s edge below Darmouth’s keep. If any one of them disobeyed, the others’ lives would be forfeit.

“The captain let me up on deck to help scrub,” the boy blurted out in Numanese. “That’s how I jumped overboard. But there are many others ... in the hold.”

Leesil turned on the boy and demanded, “What ship?”

Chap tried to interrupt. — No—

Paolo looked around at everyone. “A big one, from Witeny, at the end of the third pier.”

No one spoke for a moment. They had all seen that ship.

“Leesil?” Magiere finally whispered.

He turned his head, and his eyes narrowed in warning.

“Where were they taking you?” Magiere asked the boy.

Paolo shook his head slightly. “Somewhere north, farther. The crew was set for a long journey. That’s all I ever learned, except that we stopped at every port along the way, sometimes for days. Some crew always came back with more people. A few in the hold mentioned a camp ... and ...”