Totally worn out, Jules divided her group into two to get what sleep they could in what remained of the night, putting Artem in charge of the second group of pirates disguised as prisoner guards.
“But I’m just a sailor,” Artem protested. “I’ve never run things.”
“I think you can do it,” Jules said.
“All right, Captain. If you say so. I’ll do my best.”
She managed to stay awake until it was time for Artem’s section to take over, passing out almost the instant her head touched the grass.
* * *
The next day dawned with a red sky that worried Jules as she stood up and stretched.
“Got a storm coming in,” Artem commented.
“Looks like it,” Jules agreed. “Maybe that’ll be a good thing. Let’s get everybody over here.” She waited while they gathered, several yawning. Nine pirates, including herself, in the leather armor and helms of prisoner guards, plus Nico in his own guard outfit for a total of ten. The tenth pirate, lacking guard armor as a disguise, would walk alongside the prisoners as if part of their number. “Here’s the deal. We don’t tell the prisoners anything has changed. We don’t know them, so we don’t know if any of them would betray us in hopes of getting a pardon for themselves. As far as they’re concerned, the guards changed last night, but their fates haven’t.”
“Here are the papers the, um, former guards were carrying,” Nico said, offering them to Jules.
She looked them over, feeling a burst of hope. “All right! They’re supposed to go aboard a ship in the harbor. We’ll take them there. If we can get everyone on the ship, we’ll do that, and take over the ship once we’re out of the harbor.”
“We’ve got a little experience with taking over ships,” one of the pirates said, grinning.
“Let’s get the prisoners up and start marching. Don’t brutalize them, but don’t act too nice. We have to pass as prisoner guards until we reach that ship.”
As it turned out, a few pokes from short swords were necessary to get some of the prisoners on their feet. The prisoners noticed the change in guards, but none of them said anything, perhaps having already learned not to draw any extra attention to themselves. Jules got the column going across the road, still nearly empty this early, so the prisoners could drink from the river. Then they had to be herded back across the road and a little distance to one side just as they’d walked yesterday. After sending Artem aside to buy some bread loaves from a cart they passed, the guards ate as they marched. Stale bread from the day before was cheap enough to be passed out among the prisoners. Nico walked in the lead, Jules not far behind him on the side away from the road.
Traffic built quickly this close to Landfall, most of it coming from the city, heading east. Jules pulled her leather helm as low as she could and kept her head lowered as if tired, sneaking looks at the road and across the river.
She couldn’t see any Mages on the north side of the river.
Great. Had they figured she wasn’t going to cross?
“Captain,” Artem said in a low voice. He was guarding the prisoners from the side nearest the highway, marching along about even with Jules. “Reefs two points off the starboard bow.”
Her eyes went to a spot a little ways to the right of the front of the column, seeing Mage robes among the travelers. Two. No, three. Walking along steadily, apparently not looking around, everyone clearing a path.
One hand grasping her dagger, Jules kept changing her pace slightly, just enough to keep at least one fake prison guard or prisoner between her and the Mages.
“Mad,” Artem said. “Get out a little toward the road.”
“They’ll notice me easier,” the female pirate objected.
“That’s the idea.”
“Oh. I got it. You’re gonna owe me, Art.”
Jules, not wanting to risk speaking with Mages so close, watched Mad stroll a little closer toward the road as if unaware of the Mages.
And saw the Mages suddenly veer off the road as they came even with the column, planting themselves directly in front of Mad. The female pirate stumbled to a halt, a look of terror on her face that was all the more convincing for being genuine.
The rest of the column kept moving, ignoring what was happening, as commons always had to when Mages decided to single out one of their number. Jules had no choice but to pretend to ignore what was going on as well, consumed by guilt at the thought that Mad might be killed by the Mages. But she noticed Artem had dropped back to keep himself between Jules and the Mages’ line of sight.
However, the Mages seemed interested only in Mad. For a long moment, the Mages looked her over. Then as quickly as before they turned, heading back onto the road and striding on toward the east.
Mad, visibly shaking, trotted to rejoin the column. “You owe me big,” she hissed at Artem.
“I’m the one who owes you,” Jules said.
“No, Captain,” Mad said. “I already owe you my life. At worst this balances things. But that lug is another matter,” she said, pointing at Artem.
Jules slowly exhaled. The Mages might’ve been looking for a woman in armor like that of the prison guards. Since she’d kept out of their line of sight, it hadn’t occurred to them that there might be more than one such woman with this group.
And it seemed Artem might suspect who she was. If so, he’d been discreet about it.
She glanced back to ensure the Mages were still going east, seeing their robes among the other travelers heading that way. But as she looked back, Jules got her first good look at two of the prisoners.
Unless she was very much mistaken, they were the two “high class” women that the former guard leader had boasted of molesting.
Ian’s mother and sister. Apparently Ian’s father sacrificing his life at Western Port hadn’t been enough to turn aside Imperial wrath at Jules’ capture of the town. Did Ian know they’d been condemned to a labor sentence?
She didn’t even know if Ian was still alive, or if he’d died at the hands of the Mage troll and the Mages who’d attacked the Hawk’s Mantle to try to kill her.
Or if Ian had been arrested for freeing her from her chains, and already been executed.
That thought made the day darken about her, the bread in her stomach turning into a hard lump.
Ian’s mother and sister might know, but she couldn’t ask them. Those two would turn her in to any passing Imperial soldiers or police out of spite. But she owed Ian a life debt for her escape from the Hawk’s Mantle, and a second life debt for his father. Even if he was dead (and please let him not be dead), she had to try to save his mother and sister, even though both doubtless hated her with an intensity hot enough to melt steel.
Facing forward, she called to Artem. “Thanks. Let me know if you see any more of them.”
“Aye, Captain,” Artem said. “Don’t worry. Mad’ll be here if we see any more Mages.”
“Mad is gonna skin you alive once this is done,” the female pirate muttered.
The sky had been clouding over since the sun rose, and now rain began pattering down. Jules’ emotional relief at the way the rain helped hide her from being recognized was tempered by physical misery as the cold water fell and turned the ground beneath her feet into mud.
The prisoners faltered in the muddy path, but the pirates proved more than capable of playing the role of remorseless guards, keeping everyone on pace.
Jules watched the city wall of Landfall grow ever taller as they approached it, thinking about how hard it had been to get outside that wall a few days ago, and how she was now marching of her own volition to get back inside it.
There were two Mages standing at the gate. They were watching everyone leaving, but paying no attention to those entering the city. The Mages might have had some warning that she was coming this way, and wouldn’t be crossing the river, but they didn’t seem to know she was going to use this gate.
Maybe they were also short on numbers. If they’d sent a lot of Mages no
rth of the river, they’d all have to get back across in order to search for her on the south side. That would take time.
Jules increased her pace to come even with Nico. “You take the lead on getting us through the gate,” she said, giving the former guard leader’s paperwork back to Nico.
He gave her an alarmed look. “But I thought you’d handle that.”
“I can’t afford to have the gate guards noticing me,” Jules said. “Aside from me, you’re the only one with us who can fake being the leader of this group of guards.”
“But…I…”
“You’ve seen this done, right? Just do it.”
Nico licked his lips nervously. “All right.”
They neared the gate, the rain still coming down just hard enough to make everyone uncomfortable. One of the legionaries checking those entering the city walked over to Nico as the column of prisoners reached the gate.
“Prisoners,” Nico said.
“Yeah, I could see that,” the legionary responded. “They really do scrape the bottom of the barrel for you prisoner guards, don’t they?”
“Um…we’re taking them to the harbor.” Nico offered the papers.
The legionary looked them over, glancing at Nico as if wondering whether it’d be fun to give him a hard time. Maybe because it was raining, he passed the papers back without any objections. “Don’t let any of them get loose. Get going.”
The Mages, Jules saw with a quick look, were still watching everyone leaving. Nico looked back to give the command to start walking again.
“Hold on!” The voice was loud, authoritative, and angry.
Another legionary came walking up to Nico. A centurion, Jules saw, bearing an impressive scowl on his face. She glanced at Artem, and saw him looking to her for guidance.
The centurion didn’t seem alarmed. Just angry. She shook her head at Artem, motioning for him not to do anything.
“What is this mess?” the centurion demanded of Nico.
“It’s…a group of prisoners…” Nico repeated, quailing in the face of the centurion’s wrath.
“You know what I mean!” The centurion pointed toward some of the fake guards. “Look at those mangy excuses for servants of the Emperor!”
“It’s, uh, raining—”
“I know it’s raining! If it wasn’t, they’d look even worse! They all need haircuts, their clothing is sloppy and ill-fitting, and their armor isn’t being kept up! What the blazes is that on his armor? A bloodstain? Buff it out! I don’t care that you’re not legionaries! You’re still expected to maintain a decent appearance. You get these guards in shape before you try to leave this city, you hear me? If I see them looking this shoddy next time I see them on the streets, or when you try to use this gate again, I’ll see that all of you regret it! Am I understood?”
“Yes, sir!” Nico said, his body gone stiff in a desperate attempt to stand at attention.
“Don’t call me sir! I’m a centurion!”
“Yes, centurion!”
The centurion stalked off, leaving the gate guards grinning at Nico.
Giving Jules a shaky look, he managed to call out a command. “Let’s…let’s go.”
* * *
They spent most of the day walking through the city, heading for the waterfront, Jules wondering every step of the way what security might be like there. After a week’s time, would the number of legionaries and police have been reduced? Would the Mages still be watching the waterfront closely?
The rain came and went, the sun once peeking out for a few moments before deciding to hide behind the clouds once more.
As they walked, they passed businesses and pedestrians and riders and wagons going about the daily business of the city. None of them paid much attention to the prisoner guards and the prisoners. Jules knew that etiquette from being raised in the Empire. Any interest in prisoners might indicate sympathy. Indifference was the safest reaction.
Why had she accepted that way of thinking for so long? Just because there hadn’t been any alternative? Why hadn’t she thought more about creating an alternative, another place where citizens didn’t have to fear their own police?
They passed a café, the windows open to let in the breeze, a group of Mechanics eating. Normally, Mechanics were notorious for laughing loudly as if intent on showing how happy they were compared to everyone else. This time Jules noticed they were engaged in what looked like debate and arguments. What was going on? She couldn’t hear.
But as the prisoners went past, the debate paused and Jules could hear one of the Mechanics talking loudly to his companions. “Why do commons stink so much?”
A lot of passing people heard, as they were supposed to. Jules saw their upset expressions turned away from the Mechanics. No one rebuked the Mechanics. Because no one wanted to attract their attention, either.
She didn’t recognize any of the Mechanics in the cafe. It didn’t matter; if any of the Mechanics had recognized her, they wouldn’t have acted any nicer.
But something seemed to be going on among the Mechanics, and that might involve more danger for her. In her prior meetings with Mechanics, Jules had gotten the impression that various factions in their Guild were jockeying for power in a political debate that could be deadly. And at least some of those factions hadn’t approved of the idea of the Mechanics Guild letting Jules run free. “Avoid the square around the Mechanics Guild Hall,” she said to Nico. There would be a lot of police still posted there, very likely. And Mechanics going in and out. No sense risking being recognized by any of them.
They took only brief breaks to drink water at public fountains, walking through the afternoon. Between the crowded streets of the city and the slow pace of tired prisoners who had no desire to reach their fates any faster, they didn’t make good time. And Landfall the Ancient was big, not only the oldest city in the world but also the largest until surpassed by Marandur. The sky had begun to darken by the time they reached the waterfront, a thin drizzle still falling from leaden skies.
Plenty of legionaries and police were visible, watching the water and the streets, paying particular attention to anyone traveling alone, especially women, but none of them giving more than passing glances to the prisoners and their guards. One finally waved Nico over, looking at his papers as Jules waited nervously.
Nico came back. “He said the ship we’re looking for is on pier seven.”
Jules searched the waterfront, seeing no Mage robes. “Let’s go.” The ruined pier where the Hawk’s Mantle had been destroyed was in the military section of the waterfront, on past the piers usually used by merchant ships. She wouldn’t have to worry about passing that spot tonight.
Marching by a chalkboard protected by an awning, where the names of ships visiting the harbor were posted for merchants or those seeking passage, Jules stumbled to a stop, staring at one of the names.
The Prosper.
Maybe she’d make it out of the city again.
“Nico, when we get to pier five, head down it.”
“But the ship we want is on pier seven.”
“No, the ship we want is on pier five. The Prosper. Do it!”
Posted at the head of each pier was a poster with Jules’ face on it. They moved past the piers, their progress feeling agonizingly slow to Jules. So close. Just a little farther, and she might have the best chance at survival and freedom since being captured by the Hawk’s Mantle.
Nico turned down pier five, but stopped as a pier inspector stepped outside of her shed and blocked him. “What’s your business?”
“Uh, prisoners,” Nico said, waving back at the column. “We’re taking them to a ship.”
“I wasn’t told to expect that. Where’re your papers?”
As Jules hung back to avoid being recognized, and Nico fumbled with the papers that identified another ship as the destination of the prisoners, Artem stepped forward. “Here they are,” he said, holding out two silver galleys.
The inspector gave him a dispassionate look
. “I need better papers than that.”
“Of course.” Artem brought out two more silver coins. “Here. See? All’s in order.”
“I guess so,” the Inspector said, pocketing the bribe. “Get.” She went back inside her shed.
Jules shoved Nico to get him moving again, the line of prisoners and fake guards walking down the pier. “Where’d you learn that?” she asked Artem.
“Watched my captain do that a few times,” he said. “Kept my eyes open. Guess that was smart, huh?”
“Very smart,” Jules said. They’d passed two other ships tied up the pier before they reached the Prosper, her wooden hull, masts, and furled sails wet with the rain. “Let me take the lead here.”
She walked up the boarding plank, not surprised when a sailor stopped her. “Where are you going?”
“We’ve got prisoners for passage,” she said.
“Not for us,” the sailor said, shaking her head.
“Get your captain. Aravind, right?”
“That’s right.” The sailor scratched her head. “Hey, Daki. She says we’re supposed to take some prisoners.”
“The blazes we are.” Jules saw a familiar man come up to the boarding plank, shaking his head. “Whoever told you that was wrong.”
“You should take us aboard, Daki,” Jules said. She raised the rim of her leather helm, sweeping hair from her forehead so he could see her.
Daki frowned, looked closely, and his mouth fell open. “Oh. Oh. I…Captain Aravind. Get Captain Aravind,” he told the first sailor. As that woman ran off, Daki leaned close. “It’s really you?”
“This time I’m the one who could use a rescue, Daki,” Jules said. She’d risked her ship to save him and the other survivors of the crew of the Merry Runner after their ship wrecked on the reefs of the Bleak Coast, and later arranged them jobs on this ship. Unless she’d seriously misjudged Daki, he’d honor a debt like that.
Fate of the Free Lands Page 7