by Jaleta Clegg
Chapter 22
A rhythmic creaking slowly penetrated the fuzziness in my head. I swayed back and forth, back and forth. I fought the urge to vomit as I woke from my drugged sleep. My eyes wouldn't open yet. I listened, trying to place where I was.
A soft hissing of whispers and a muffled whimpering, like something in pain and afraid to show it, were all I heard over the creaking. I smelled sun-baked canvas and unwashed bodies. I shifted my hands. Chains rattled.
I blinked the crust off my eyes as I lifted my hands. Iron rings circled each wrist with a length of thick chain between. I shifted and heard more clanking. I had another set on my ankles. I dropped my hands with a groan. Vunia had taken my clothes, leaving me in nothing more than a sleeveless shift and bare feet.
I lay in a small wagon. A canvas cover enclosed it completely. I had four companions, crammed against the far side. They hunched their legs, avoiding me as if I carried some foul disease. The whispering came from two young girls, maybe fourteen or so, who looked alike. They had their arms wrapped around each other. The whimpering came from another girl at the rear of the wagon. She was even younger, crying mindlessly as she stared at nothing. An older woman sat in the front corner of the wagon, by my head. She plucked at her baggy dress. None of them wore chains.
My queasiness increased with each lurch of the wagon. I rolled to my knees, reaching for the canvas covering the side of the wagon.
"No." The older woman grabbed my hand, jerking it away.
"I'm going to be sick." I swallowed bile.
My green face must have convinced her. She quickly lifted the cloth. I crawled across the straw in the wagon, then stuck my head out. The fresh air cooled my face. The woman pulled me back into the stifling air of the enclosed wagon before I could glimpse more than a few trees. She pushed me away.
I leaned against the side of the wagon, my stomach settling, and jingled my chains. The locks on the cuffs were simple, easy enough to pick if I had a piece of wire or a file, but I had nothing. I shifted restlessly on the straw. It crept into all sorts of intimate places.
The twins combed each other's hair and whispered. The girl at the rear continued her mindless whimpering. I sifted through the straw, looking for something to pick the locks.
"It's no use," the older woman said. "Aberius paid money for you. He won't let you go until he's made a profit. He has twenty guards with him on this caravan." She sounded smug.
"So I'm his slave now?"
She frowned, unsure of my reaction.
I wanted off Dadilan. I didn't have Tayvis anymore, but I did have the official backing of the Patrol. If I could get free and find my way to the base. I had to get free. I'd had enough of Dadilan. I scraped at the wooden panel, trying for a splinter sturdy enough to pick the lock.
The woman watched me peel one loose. It caught under a nail. I muttered a curse as I plucked it free. I wiggled the splinter into the lock. It bent, too flimsy to turn the sturdy mechanism inside. My finger throbbed; blood pooled under the nail as I dug for a fresh splinter.
"You are very stubborn."
I shoved the splinter into the lock. Too big. I picked another free. A line of fresh wood showed along the side of the wagon.
"Why can't you just accept your fate? What else is there? Aberius is a fair enough master. Perhaps he would consent to keeping you."
"Maybe I don't want kept and maybe I don't want a master."
"Would you rather be put on the auction block like those?" She nodded at our companions.
A whimper, trapped by the hot air, sounded loud in the quiet. My splinter snapped.
"Blast it," I muttered in Basic as I shook the pieces out of the lock.
The woman's eyes went round. She made a sign over her face. The whisperers scooted farther away.
I picked splinters from the wagon side.
We traveled for an interminable time, the wagon creaking slowly along, the air stifling and muggy. I picked at the wood until my fingers bled. Try as I might, I heard nothing beyond our canvas prison other than the sounds of the wagon itself.
The wagon jolted to a stop. Muffled voices called out. Metallic clankings moved past our wagon. Fresh air drifted sluggishly into the wagon, marginally cooler. Guards pulled aside the canvas covering, tying it before they lowered the rear panel.
A bearded man stuck his face into the wagon. I almost wet myself until I realized it wasn't Baron Molier. The man had the same mad look in his eye and the same dark beard.
"Out." He jerked his head.
The woman herded the girls from the wagon. I followed. Maybe I could steal a horse.
The guards kept a close watch on us as the bearded man led us around the wagon. The caravan sprawled across a dirt road in a little dip between steep hills. A stream trickled next to the track. Lines of chained men sat on a grassy bank across the water. They slumped defeated, dusty, and beaten. Chains connected them in rows.
A guard shoved me to the stream. I stumbled over the short chain between my ankles. I knelt down, pouring as much water over my head as down my throat.
"Aberius, why is that one in chains? Is she really so dangerous that you have to chain her?"
I looked up. Aberius was joined by half a dozen men. I choked on the water when I saw their shipsuits. I ducked my head to hide my reaction.
"I was told she was a thief, good at picking locks and sneaking around. I didn't want to lose a valuable slave. It seemed prudent." Aberius sniffed.
"What have you brought me this time, Aberius?" the first man spoke.
I watched from the corner of my eye as I pretended to be absorbed in drinking water. I caught a glimpse of a red ship patch on his shoulder. Captain's bars glinted on his collar.
"A few things, mostly slaves. The bazaars have been scant lately, Gerant," Aberius said, with a note of apology in his voice. "The caravans have not been coming as often and plague is keeping people away from the cities."
My ears pricked up. Could this be Gerant Clyvus, the mysterious smuggler? All I had to do was escape, get to the Patrol base, and tell them where to find Gerant Clyvus. Great plan, except I didn't know my location, I wore chains, and lots of guards patrolled the area. I bent my head over the stream to hide my frustration.
"I do not like excuses, Aberius," Gerant said, his calm voice more threatening than a blast cannon at short range. "You know I have no use for slaves."
"Perhaps one of the women? The one in chains might suit your tastes."
A guard jerked me to my feet.
I studied the men openly. Seven of the spacers, all wearing shipsuits, circled Aberius. Aberius' guards carried about fifty pounds of sharp metal each. Another half dozen men waited farther back, wearing the native style tunic and breeches. One of them caught my eye. I'd seen him at the Patrol base. I felt a surge of hope until he pushed his way towards Gerant. I didn't think he was there with Commander Nuto's knowledge.
"I don't have time for this, Aberius. I don't want your women. Show me something worth my time." Gerant stalked across the stream, followed by the merchant who looked so much like Baron Molier.
The man from the Patrol stopped, looking me over. He laughed softly as he turned to his friends.
I sat on the ground, wrapped in my misery. My chains rattled with every movement.
I ignored the guards' chatter, until a familiar name caught my attention.
"Flago can't pick his nose without help. Don't know why Clyvus thinks he needs that weasel."
"He promised Clyvus a ship, a legit trader. You heard how the incompetent idiot destroyed it. Double bypassed the emergency overrides. Any fool knows that's a sure way to overload the reactor."
My misery turned to burning anger. I cursed my navigator under my breath. Flago had sold me out to Gerant Clyvus. I'd kill him, very slowly, and with much pain when I caught him. The idiot had destroyed my dreams and my future. I dug through the stones in the creek, searching for something to pick the locks. I was not going to rot on this planet; I was going to
get free so I could wreak vengeance.
The guard hauled me away from the stream before I found anything useful, shoving me into the wagon. I fell on the straw, my chains tangled. The girls climbed in. The young one sat, staring blankly. The whisperers huddled together, arms entwined. The older woman spat. The guards tied the canvas shut. The wagon creaked and swayed as the wheels splashed through water.
"Sky demon," the woman hissed softly. "Your kind defiles our world."
"Not all of us. Personally, I would be very happy to leave."
She looked shocked by the venom in my voice. She frowned, perplexed. "You do not work for Lady Pardui?"
"Not really. Do you think she'd sell me if I were her loyal servant?"
"What are you doing here? Why are you on our world at all?"
I studied her face and picked my words. If I played my cards right, she might help. "I'm working for the people trying to catch that man, Gerant Clyvus, and the other demons."
"What will happen to the demons when you catch them?" She leaned towards me, eager for their blood. I wanted some myself.
"The best they can hope for is life in a prison with no chance of escape." I told her the most gruesome stories I knew about the prison planets, worlds too dry and barren, or wet and savage, to settle. No one escaped them except by dying. She smiled viciously as I talked.
We were let out briefly when the wagon stopped for the night. We washed in a crude trough of cold water. The guards fed us a thin stew, then shut us into the wagon.
I settled into the itchy straw, my chains clinking.
The woman leaned close. "Did you speak truth? You would rid my world of demons?"
"Get me free and I can."
"My name is Irina. I will help you escape if you will remove Gerant. I would kill him myself if I could."
"Irina." I impulsively grabbed her wrist. "Are you happy with Aberius?" It was none of my business, but it could be one more card that might help convince her to be on my side.
"I would be happier to be his wife, to be free. He was not always a slaver." She pulled her arm free, then slipped out of the wagon.
I sat in the darkness, listening to the girls whisper, the younger one sobbing in her sleep. This planet was screwed up, but it wasn't my job to fix Dadilan.
I tugged at my hair. I'd agreed to help Tayvis, but he was most likely dead. I flinched away from that thought. Once I got the information to the Patrol base, I was through. The Patrol could deal with it from there. But they weren't interested in internal matters like slavery. They'd deal with the shara smugglers, the offworlders, but not the natives. The Patrol wouldn't help Irina, or the poor girls in the wagon.
What could I possibly do to help them? It had always been me against the universe. Not now. I'd found people with worse lives than mine. I had to find a way to help them, even if it meant giving up my chance to help myself. When you picked up a distress call, you answered. Spacer's code. It had never meant so much to me as it did now.
I rattled my chains and wrestled with my newly grown conscience.
I honestly couldn't think of a way I could help, though I promised myself I'd at least try. Maybe Robin could do something. I added talking to him to my list of things to do, right after removing my chains and escaping from Aberius.
I slumped against the side of the wagon, the chains resting heavily across my lap.
"Face it," I whispered. "It's hopeless."