The horse was momentarily blinded and swerved into the path of another horse. The tack of the two horses became tangled, and they crashed to the ground, throwing their riders. The horses rose and limped away. The men lay on the ground, disoriented but not severely injured. Skye spied a branch on the ground near one of the men, ran to it, and picked it up. He swung it at the head of the nearest man and the brittle branch shattered into a million pieces, but at least succeeded in knocking him out.
Staring at the useless remnant of the branch in his hand, Skye threw it away and jumped on the second man, pummeling him with his fists. The man was too stunned to defend himself properly and was knocked senseless pretty quickly. Skye’s knuckles were sore and bleeding, and the dust in the air stung his eyes.
He worried that the men would regain consciousness, so he grabbed their swords and threw them under the wagon. Then, he pulled out his pack, and from it the coil of rope he’d gotten from Eden. He dragged the four unconscious men together and trussed them up. He’d just finished when the attack broke off, and the remaining horsemen rode away.
The dust settled, and Skye wiped at his eyes. When a pair of caravan guards found him, he was still standing over top of the four trussed-up men.
“Who the hell are you?” The guard challenged him, confused by coming face to face with someone he didn’t know and so was presumably the enemy, but also with the four tied-up men, who clearly were the enemy, so did that make Skye the enemy of the enemy and therefore an ally?
“I’m Skye. I hitched a ride. Sorry.” He tried to look remorseful, but he was preoccupied with blinking dust out of his eyes.
“We’ll deal with you later,” the guard said and looked about. Spying his comrade with the grave sword wound lying nearby, he commanded his partner to watch the tied-up men and motioned to Skye to help him. Together, they propped the wounded man up. His tunic was wet with blood. They removed it, and the guard applied pressure to the wound. Skye grabbed his waterskin and did his best to wash the wound while the man flinched from the pain. Skye tore open a nearby sack and, as he suspected, found rolled-up fabric inside. He pulled out a bolt and tore off a strip, which he tied tightly as a tourniquet above the man’s wound. He then wrapped a second strip around the wound itself to keep dirt out and hopefully prevent infection, and maybe even hold it together long enough to help it knit back together.
When they were finished treating him, Skye found the injured man watching him.
“I saw everything,” the man said to his colleague. “This lad took out four of the bastards after they got my sword arm.”
His colleague looked Skye over skeptically and glanced at the four trussed-up men. His colleague kicked one who was struggling against his restraints. The proof appeared to be in front of him.
The Captain of the caravan guard rode up a moment later. He put his hand on the pommel of his sword when he saw Skye, but the guard whose colleague Skye had just helped bandage waved him down and strode over. They had a heated conversation, with much pointing in Skye’s direction. Their conversation concluded, and the Captain rode over to Skye.
“You place me in a predicament, young man,” he began. “My guard tells me that you stowed away aboard our caravan. Hence, I should kill you where you stand and leave your bones for the vultures.” He paused for a long time as though giving that serious consideration. “But… on the other hand, you appear to have been useful in a pinch, so we sort of owe you a debt of gratitude, and I don’t like debts,” he concluded and spat on the ground.
Skye waited for whatever that was going to happen, but the Captain looked over at the wounded guard and relaxed. “Bo’s sword arm won’t be of much use for a while. I guess we could use a man until it is. Interested?”
“I’m your man,” Skye replied.
The Captain just wheeled and rode away to check on the rest of his charges.
Skye started repacking the sacks that lay strewn about so he wouldn’t get in trouble for that later. When he was done, Bo handed him his sword belt. Skye looked at it strangely.
“It’s the company’s, not mine. Go ahead. It goes with the job.” After Skye accepted it, the man wandered off, muttering, “They don’t pay me enough for this shit.”
Around the fireside that night, Skye learned that the caravan had survived the attack in relatively good condition. There were a handful of injuries but only two deaths. The merchant leading the expedition seemed to think that the addition of four captives was a fair trade.
“Won’t their friends come back to rescue them?” Skye asked.
Everyone went silent, then erupted in laughter. The man on Skye’s left slapped his back.
“Good one. You’re hilarious,” he said.
No one elaborated, and Skye smiled broadly at his ‘joke,’ concluding that in these places, life was cheap and the bonds of friendship thin.
“You’re not from town, are you?” someone asked him, “Where are you from?”
“I grew up in the mountains,” he replied, which led to much whistling and some hooting.
“Three cheers for balloon-boy!” someone declared, and Skye became an instant celebrity.
The Captain watched him without expression. This unnerved Skye, but the Captain had decided that he was more useful alive than dead, at least for the moment. Skye hoped it stayed that way.
“If the airships bring goods to you, why take them over land?” Skye asked a young man that he judged to be a merchant rather than a guard.
“To bring back what we need, rather than whatever the gods deem fit to send us.”
“That makes sense, I guess.”
“We can also transport more than the airships can carry, although it’s costly in terms of lives, and sometimes we only bring back wagonloads of salted fish. It’s a pity that the road only goes to one town, and fish is their specialty. I hate fish.”
“I hear you,” Skye replied, remembering a long journey in an airship with nothing to eat but dried fish. He knew vaguely from the map he’d copied that they were heading toward the coast, but he asked anyway, “So it’s a fishing village we’re headed for?”
“That it is,” the young man sighed, then brightened. “I have a girl there. Her name is Ally. She has two sisters if you’d like me to introduce you.”
Skye clapped his shoulder, “If you’re already dating the cute one, what’s the point?”
The young man laughed and extended his hand, “I’m Kyllion, by the way.”
Skye shook his hand, “Skye.” He began to relax into a community that he was starting to become part of, however fleeting the feeling tended to be.
Skye was assigned the station that had been Bo’s before his injury, and Bo sat beside him during his convalescence. He noted that Skye kept adjusting his sword belt and asked, “You’ve never used one of those, have you?”
Skye looked guilty. “How can you tell?”
“Because it was my arm that was injured, not my eyes or my brain.”
“It’s that obvious?”
“Yup.”
Whenever the caravan’s schedule and the light would allow, Bo took it upon himself to show Skye how to handle a sword. He couldn’t do so himself with his injured arm, so he rounded up a young guard and barked instructions at the two of them.
Skye would just start feeling proficient when Bo would put his head in his good hand and conclude, “You make a shit guard, balloon-boy,” and storm off to find a drink.
The caravan wound its way across the countryside on a cart path that was a stretch to call a road, but they were fortunate in avoiding further attacks from brigands. They gradually neared their destination. Skye could sense it by the smell of salt air carried by the breeze.
Approaching the ‘fishing village’, it became clear that it was much more than a simple village. ‘Port town’ would be more apt. The townsfolk had noticed their arrival while the caravan was still far away, and several of them came to greet it. A girl squealed and raced into Kyllion’s arms. Skye smiled a
t them, and Kyllion made a gesture that said, This too could be yours. Skye laughed despite himself, shook his head, and began helping unload the wagons.
The Captain found him at some point and stood watching him.
Skye noticed that he was being watched and walked up to the man.
“I guess this is goodbye,” the Captain said and held out his hand.
Skye shook it.
“The sword, you idiot,” The Captain said, rolling his eyes.
“Right,” Skye replied and unbuckled his sword to give it to him.
The man handed Skye a few ivory discs. Skye looked at them quizzically. “It’s how we keep track of favors between our town and this one. Don’t expect everyone to understand their significance, but if you stick to larger establishments, you can trade them for what you need.”
Skye thanked him and turned to go, but the man placed a hand on Skye’s shoulder to stop him. “Whatever you’re looking for, I hope you find it.” He squeezed Skye’s shoulder and walked away.
Skye stood there, feeling as though what he was searching for was far behind him rather than in front of him. He shook off the feeling before he could become discouraged by it. You’ve got to believe, he told himself and made for the port.
Skye moved through the crowded streets of the town marveling at its vibrancy. After having spent moons in Eden’s town with the ever-present monks setting the tone, the people of this town seemed casual and carefree as they went about their errands. Banners of flags were strung across the street and fluttered in the sea breeze. People stared in shop windows and drunks staggered out of taverns despite it being the middle of the day.
Skye made his way to the waterfront and sat down on an untended crate beside the docks. The buildings were painted a patchwork of bright colors – all shades of yellow, blue, green, and orange. It was as though the inhabitants thumbed their noses at the dark sea. His stomach rumbled and he looked about for a shop that sold food, but this close to the water, there were only fish shops. Eww, Skye thought. What would I do with a fish anyway? he wondered. He decided he’d deal with his hunger later and pulled out his journal. He flipped to his copy of the map of the world and stared at the circled star with the word ‘capital’ scrawled beside it. By his reckoning, it was south of this town if it still existed at all. Something inside him told him that he’d never be able to retrace his steps west, so he’d have to find a way across the sea to the east and circle back around the globe. The capital was where he’d find the way to do that.
He put away his journal, got up, and strode toward the biggest ship in port. It had three tall masts and looked more to Skye like a floating building than a boat. A man was standing at its railing dressed better than the deckhands that scurried about under his gaze. Skye concluded that he probably had some importance on the ship and called up to him.
“Excuse me. Is there a large city that you sail to?”
The din of the port was a bit loud to converse over, so the man muttered, “Stupid inlander,” and motioned Skye to a gangplank that connected the ship to the jetty.
Skye walked across it, struggling to keep his balance and all the while confirming to the world his lack of seamanship. Sailors walked effortlessly across the masts high above. Skye succeeded in making it to the man’s side, however, which seemed to disappoint the man. He looked impatiently at Skye.
“Do you stop at a large city along your sailing route?” Skye asked.
“I heard you the first time. Yes, we stop at Bayre. Why?”
“I wish to book passage,” Skye replied and held out his handful of ivory discs.
The man looked at them skeptically.
“They’re…” Skye began.
“I know what they’re worth,” the man cut him off and continued looking them over.
Skye braced himself for the man to add, “They aren’t worth anything,” and throw them overboard, but he reached out and pocketed them.
“You’ve bought yourself a one-way trip. I’ll vouch for you. Now go down below and ask for Ellery. He’ll find you a place to sleep and something useful to do.”
Skye thanked the man but looked around, confused.
“Down below… below deck… over there.” He looked like he was about to reconsider, so Skye bolted in the direction the man pointed before he could.
Skye scurried down a ladder and didn’t notice the shadowy figure who had been watching him and stealthily snuck aboard the ship after him.
24
Kala
Baron and his men headed out to find the missing shipment of coin from the warehouse. They found the four dead men at the ambush site instead. Baron was enraged to learn that he’d lost ten days of revenue, although he could survive that. He could not have cared less about the dead men; they were expendable. Baron assumed the theft was an act of revenge by the surviving members of Tito’s gang. He assigned men, Rat and Kala included, to recover the coin, but despite the capture and torture of several of Tito’s former lieutenants, no sign of it ever surfaced.
Baron was far more incensed to discover that all of the girls at the warehouse had vanished, as this affected his ability to make more coin. He hadn’t put any effort into learning the girls’ names, so tracking them down even within the not-overly-large town would be difficult. He assumed they’d return when they were desperate for coin, but few did, and none of them ever betrayed Amber.
It wasn’t easy, but Kala tracked Amber down and found that she’d procured a room above a bakery. Kala watched her from the shadows of the alley across the street as she helped the baker make bread. While the work appeared to exhaust her, she looked happier than Kala had ever seen her. Kala only watched her from afar. Let her leave the life I belonged to behind, she thought.
Baron ranted and drank more than usual, and both Rat and Kala avoided him as best they could. Baron kept a close eye on them, but they made no effort to keep up appearances as a couple. Let him think it was just physical, they thought. It didn’t matter because word had spread throughout Baron’s organization, and it was now gospel that the two of them were an item. Baron was already wary of them individually, doubly so now that he thought they were allied together, and so they felt no need to provoke him further.
Kala was practicing her swordplay when Baron wandered in looking particularly smug. She immediately felt on edge but continued her training.
“I’ve got someone I’d like you to meet,” Baron said.
Baron’s introductions usually ended in violence, so she stilled her sword and prepared herself. He whistled, and a grey snout poked through the entrance he’d just come through.
Kala jumped into a defensive stance. “What the hell?!”
A wolf on a leash entered and sniffed the air.
Kala was confused by why Baron had a wolf on a leash and stood her ground warily.
“Don’t you like my pet?”
“If it were a dog, sure, but a wolf, no.”
Baron reclined in his chair and waved the wolf’s handler over. Baron tossed the wolf a shank of raw meat, which it devoured it, bloodying its snout.
The wolf unnerved Kala, so she backed up slowly.
“Birdy doesn’t like my wolf,” Baron laughed haughtily, then snapped his fingers at the wolf’s handler, who handed the leash to him. Baron walked the wolf over to Kala’s flowers. The wolf sniffed them, then peed on them. Baron thought this was hilarious and howled with laughter. Having made whatever twisted point he was trying to make, he walked the wolf out of the room, trying to appear nonchalant, but Kala noticed that he maintained a healthy distance between it and himself.
Once Baron had long departed, Kala looked over at Rat, who was leaning against the far wall. “What was that about?”
“You haven’t figured it out yet?”
“Clearly not.”
“Remember when you first arrived.”
“I try not to.”
“The bitter-smelling smoke and the nightmares?”
“Vaguely.”
“That was a drug to stimulate fear. Baron uses your fear against you. For whatever reason, wolves unsettle you.”
“You could say that again.”
“Let me ask you something. Do you think you could kill Baron if you wanted to?”
“Sure, probably. Why?”
“Then why haven’t you? You probably think he deserves it.”
“No good reason, I guess.”
“Baron breaks you down and rebuilds you. It’s complicated, but the process binds you to him in ways that chains never could.”
“So, fear is part of that process. And wolves are what I fear most?”
“Precisely.”
“What did he discover is your greatest fear?” she asked.
“I’d prefer not to say. Why bare your neck to the wolf, so to speak?”
“That’s funny. My grandfather used to say something like that. Where are you from exactly?”
“No idea. The west wind, as far as I can tell.”
Rat gestured at her flowers. “What’s with the flowers? The men think you’re unbalanced.”
“Well, that’s enough reason to tend them then, but in truth, they just remind me of home.”
Kala stayed in the rafters whenever Baron had his wolf in the great room. She could tell that this entertained him, and he spent more time in the room with his wolf than he usually would. Kala didn’t care, as being confined to the rafters kept her from being sent on unpleasant errands.
Baron entered smiling, mercifully without his wolf for a change, and declared, “Round everyone up, Rat.”
Baron lounged in his chair until the bulk of his men had assembled, then announced, “I have a plan to recover the lost revenue from the affair with the warehouse. The brazen robbery has inspired me to conduct one of our own. We’re going to steal from Nairn.”
Nairn was the richest man in town, his fortune accrued more through corrupt business practices than outright crime – the way Baron made his living. Baron’s men shuffled uncomfortably. It was widely known that Nairn used a fair portion of his wealth to employ a small private army. Stealing from him was generally regarded as suicide.
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