Robin Hobb - The Complete Liveship Traders Trilogy - Ship of Magic, The Mad Ship, Ship of Destiny

The broker turned on him. ‘You’ve killed her, you idiot! She had at least another day’s work in her!’ He snapped the bat at Wintrow, a sharply stinging blow to the shoulder that broke the skin and bruised the flesh without breaking bones. From the point of his shoulder down, pain flashed through his arm, followed by numbness. Indeed, a well-practised gesture, some part of him decided as he yelped and sprang back. He stumbled into one of the other hobbled slaves, who pushed him casually aside. They were all closing on the broker and suddenly his nasty little bat looked like a puny and foolish weapon. Wintrow felt his gorge rise; they would beat him to death, they’d jelly his bones.

But the slave-broker was an agile little man who loved his work and excelled at it. Lively as a frisking puppy, he spun about and snapped out with his bat, flick, flick, flick. At each blow, his bat found slave-flesh, and a man fell back. He was adept at dealing out pain that disabled without damaging. He was not so cautious with Lem, however. The moment the big man moved, he struck him again, a sharp snap of the bat across his belly. Lem folded up over it, his eyes bulging from their sockets.

And meanwhile, in the slave-market, the passing traffic continued. A raised eyebrow or two at this unruly coffle, but what did one expect of map-faces and those who mongered them? Folk stepped well wide of them and continued on their way. No use to call to them for help, to protest he was not a slave. Wintrow doubted that any of them would care.

While Lem gagged up bile, the broker casually unlocked the blood-caked fetters from Cala’s ankles. He shook them clear of her dead feet, then glared at Wintrow. ‘By all rights, I should clap these on you!’ he snarled. ‘You’ve cost me a slave, and a day’s wages, if I’m not mistaken. And I am not, see, there goes my customer. He’ll want nothing to do with this coffle, after they’ve shown such bad temperament.’ He pointed the bat after his fleeing prospect. ‘Well. No work, no food, my charmers.’

The little man’s manner was so acridly pleasant, Wintrow could not believe his ears. ‘A woman is dead, and it is your fault!’ he pointed out to the man. ‘You poisoned her to shake loose a child, but it killed her as well. Murder twice is upon you!’ He tried to rise, but his whole arm was still numb from the earlier blow, as was his belly. He shifted to his knees to try to get up. The little man casually kicked him down again.

‘Such words, such words, from such a cream-faced boy! I am shocked, I am. Now I’ll take every penny you have, laddie, to pay my damages. Every coin, now, be prompt, don’t make me shake it out of you.’

‘I have none,’ Wintrow told him angrily. ‘Nor would I give you any I had!’

The man stood over him and poked him with his bat. ‘Who’s your father, then? Someone’s going to have to pay.’

‘I’m alone,’ Wintrow snapped. ‘No one’s going to pay you or your master anything for what I did. I did Sa’s work. I did what was right.’ He glanced past the man at the coffle of slaves. Those who could stand were getting to their feet. Lem had crawled over by Cala’s body. He stared intently into her upturned eyes, as if he could also see what she now beheld.

‘Well, well. Right for her may be wrong for you,’ the little man pointed out snidely. He spoke briskly, like rattling stones. ‘You see, in Jamaillia, slaves are not entitled to Sa’s comfort. So the Satrap has ruled. If a slave truly had the soul of a man, well, that man would never end up a slave. Sa, in his wisdom, would not allow it. At least, that’s how it was explained to me. So. Here I am with one dead slave and no day’s work. The Satrap isn’t going to like that. Not only are you a killer of his slaves, but a vagrant, too. If you looked like you could do a decent day’s work, I’d clap some chains and a tattoo on you right now. Save us all some time. But. A man must work within the law. Ho, guard!’ The little man lifted his bat and waved it cheerily at a passing city guard. ‘Here’s one for you. A boy, no family, no coin, and in debt to me for damage to the Satrap’s slaves. Take him in custody, would you? Here, now! Stop, come back!’

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