Chapter 9
Yaz thought the City of Bells was big, but Port Steel made it feel like a village. Even from a distance the sprawl of Carttoom’s largest city stunned. It had to cover several square miles at least. Slender towers jutted up nearly as high as the dragonspire. Massive structures like fortresses covered whole city blocks. A high wall surrounded the city on three sides while the ocean protected it on the fourth.
Half a mile ahead of them the Wallowing River emptied into the ocean. Beside the mouth of the river were the first of hundreds of piers where ships of all sizes from river barges to huge three-masted caravels docked. People came and went from the ships in a nonstop stream, carting the gods alone knew what from the depths of their holds.
One item that appeared depressingly common were slaves being driven down ramps with collars around their necks and chains connecting them in a long line. That must be how his parents were unloaded along with all the others. Yaz’s stomach clenched. He wanted to help them but could do nothing. The city was designed around the idea of housing and selling slaves. It was probably the worst possible place for a revolt.
“It’s horrible,” Brigid whispered beside him. She was so upset her body trembled.
Yaz put his arm around her shoulders. “Steady. We just need to get our information and get out. The less time we spend here the better.”
She looked away from the unloading ships and nodded. “How can they do that to other people?”
Yaz didn’t know how to answer her. To buy time he glanced at the other passengers who had gathered near the rail as the barge prepared to tie up. No one paid them the least attention. They all looked eager to get unloaded and probably find somewhere to clean up and rest. To say the trip hadn’t gone smoothly would be an understatement. He didn’t know what the others planned to say about the barge master’s deal with the pirates. Yaz was content to let the matter go since he never planned to take the barge again.
He looked back at Brigid and tried to think of a good answer to her question. He didn’t know what possessed people to take others as slaves. That wasn’t tolerated in the valley, so he had no real experience with slavery. The idea of a lifetime of free labor probably appealed to some and having the power of life and death over another person no doubt appealed to others.
In the end all Yaz could say was, “I don’t know.”
The barge bumped against the pier and a dockworker tied them up. The passengers jostled to be the first off. Yaz and his companions held back to disembark last.
While they waited Yaz asked Silas, “Do you know anything about the city?”
The wizard shrugged. “Not much. I’ve never visited. Too many bounty hunters for my liking. I know many of the guilds are headquartered here along with most of the large merchant groups. They say you can buy anything in Port Steel and I don’t doubt it for a second. The sooner we complete our work and get out of here, the happier I’ll be.”
“I second that,” Brigid said.
Under other circumstances, Yaz might have liked to see what the city had for a library, but now was certainly not the time or place for sightseeing.
“The Slavers Guild should have the information we need,” Yaz said. “The only question is how best to get it.”
“There’s only one way,” Silas said. “We’ll have to break in and steal it.”
Yaz and Brigid stared at him for a moment, but he clearly wasn’t kidding.
“How, by all the watching gods, can we manage that?” Yaz asked.
Silas shrugged. “No idea, but I promise you that’s what it’ll come down to. No way will the guild sell that sort of information. If word got out it would destroy their reputation.”
Yaz couldn’t deny Silas had a point. As they followed the last passengers up onto the dock Yaz said, “Why don’t we find an inn, eat, sleep, and go scouting first thing in the morning?”
No one argued so they set out. The barge’s dock was only a couple hundred feet long and at the end merged with a street that led deeper into the city proper. The first few blocks after the docks were single-story row houses that had seen better days. The few shops included everything you might want for a sea voyage as well as shacks selling fried fish. The less said about the smell the better.
As they moved deeper into the city, Yaz kept his head on a swivel. His nervousness probably made them stand out, but he couldn’t help it. The city overwhelmed his senses. Danger could come from so many directions it made planning impossible.
“Oh, gods.” Brigid gasped and walked toward a board nailed to a handy post.
“What is it?” Yaz asked as he and Silas hurried to catch up.
Brigid stared at the papers covering the board. They were all wanted posters. It only took a moment for Yaz to pick out his and Brigid’s likenesses. The sketches weren’t perfect, but close enough. He found Silas a few seconds later. His was rougher and showed him with long hair. You might actually have trouble picking Silas out of a crowd. Yaz and Brigid were another matter.
“We need disguises,” Yaz said. Cloaks would’ve been ideal, but in the summer heat they’d bake and everyone that looked at them would know they were hiding something.
“Looks like a small neighborhood market up ahead,” Silas said.
“That’ll do.” Yaz led the way.
The market wasn’t much more than a collection of wood and canvas stalls from which people sold a variety of items that appeared to have been scavenged from the beach. Only the poor or truly desperate would shop there. Yaz and his companions certainly fell into the latter group.
“What can we find here?” Brigid asked with clear distaste.
“Hopefully, a hat and really big tunic for you,” Yaz said. “And at least a hat for me.”
It sounded pathetic as disguises went, but there really wasn’t much else Yaz could do. His scruffy beard made him look a little older than his eighteen years and he’d grown his hair out a bit, but without magic that was pretty much the limit. He’d considered suggesting Brigid cut and dye her hair but wasn’t sure how she’d take it. Besides, there really wasn’t much that made a good dye that lasted without running down your face if you sweat and this time of year, sweat was a real problem.
They walked around and quickly selected a flat, green fisherman’s hat for him and a broad-brimmed sun hat for her. There were no tunics available clean enough to even consider wearing and they weren’t big enough to disguise her figure anyway.
The sooner they found an inn and got off the street the better Yaz would feel.
After what seemed like the first good night’s sleep he’d had in weeks, Yaz and his companions set out to scout the guild hall. The walk took twenty minutes, and when they finally arrived Yaz’s hopes were dashed. Not that he intended to give up. One way or another he’d get the information he needed.
Slavers Guild headquarters resembled a fortress more than a guild hall. The massive, walled-in compound covered four city blocks. A stone building in the center had to be the main hall. It stood only two stories tall, yet still seemed to loom over everything in the area. Two smaller, single-story buildings looked like barracks, but even from a distance Yaz could see the heavy locks on the doors. But that was all he could see from their position across the street from the wall’s single gate.
There wouldn’t be any breaking in to the compound and sneaking in would be no easy task either. How, by all the watching gods, were they going to get in there and retrieve the information they needed? Yaz wished he had an idea, but his mind was blank.
“As least there’s no magic protecting it,” Silas said. “Not that they need magic. I’ve seen noble citadels less well defended.”
“It’s certainly intimidating,” Brigid said.
“We don’t want to stand around here too long,” Yaz said. “Let’s find somewhere to sit and talk.”
So far, they hadn’t attracted any bounty hunter attention and Yaz didn’t want to have to worry about the city guard as well. They set out down the smooth
cobblestone street, moving away from the guild compound.
They hadn’t gone far when a notice stuck in the window of a dry goods shop caught Yaz’s eye. He crossed over and paused to read. There was going to be a slave auction the day after tomorrow at the guild hall. Maybe they wouldn’t have to sneak in after all.
Plans were already forming when Brigid and Silas joined him.
“What is it?” Brigid asked.
“Our best chance.” Yaz read the notice to her. “Silas, you know more about the nobility than us, you’ll have to take the lead. Brigid and I can pretend to be your servants. Do you have a spell to scout the interior?”
Silas nodded. “Sure. What would I be looking for?”
“A record room. I won’t have a ton of time, so knowing exactly where I’m going will be important.”
“Wait, wait, slow down,” Brigid said. “We’re going to the auction and you’re planning to sneak away in the middle of it? That place must have dozens of guards. How will you get where you need to go?”
That was an excellent question. “I’ll have to make it up as I go. But this is too good a chance to pass up. The gods alone know when we’ll have another chance to get in there honestly. Most of the guards will probably be busy with the slaves.”
“Yaz is right,” Silas said. “We’ll never have a better chance. I’ll need to find somewhere close by given the spell’s limited range.”
Brigid sighed. “If you’re really serious, we’ll need clothes. Servants’ uniforms for me and Yaz and a noble’s outfit for Silas. If we showed up like this, no one would believe we could afford a slave.”
“I say we shop today and come back at night to scout the interior of the guild. Tomorrow we can finalize our plans.”
“That’s a good idea. My spell lets me see in the dark as well as the light.”
They left the front of the shop and set out for the wealthy district. As they walked Brigid asked, “Why don’t you just get the information we need tonight?”
“I’d be happy to, but if the book with the details is closed, I have no way to open it. My magic allows me to extend my sight, nothing more. I can’t manipulate objects.”
“That’s still pretty handy,” Yaz said. “I’m surprised there aren’t more wizards around. We’ve done a fair bit of traveling and you’re the first one we’ve met.”
Silas grinned. “It’s not that easy. Most masters only take a single apprentice in their lifetime. The study and practice is rigorous, not to mention the fact that the final exam is potentially fatal.”
“What did you have to do?” Brigid asked. “I’m sorry, it’s not a secret, is it?”
“Sure. Basically, I cast a spell to protect me from lightning then walked out into a thunderstorm summoned by my master holding a three-meter iron rod. If I survived ten strikes, I passed and received the rank of journeyman wizard. Which, obviously, I did. But if I’d made even a tiny mistake casting the spell, the first or fifth or tenth strike might well have killed me. Magic’s too demanding a path for any but the strongest to follow. Frankly, I can’t really recommend it.”
“Even with all the powers you’ve gained?” Brigid asked.
“You’ve seen what using those powers does to me. Even with my catalyst I have to be careful. Channel too much energy and I end up helpless. There are ways to mitigate the cost, but without more practice and access to the proper supplies…” Silas shook his head. “Sometimes magic’s more trouble than it’s worth.”
“But when you need it, magic can save your life,” Yaz said. “And before this business is over, I fear we’ll need it.”
Chapter 10
Moz carefully covered the tripwire with moss and fallen pine needles. When some unlucky bandit stumbled on that, he’d get a spiked branch to the head. It should be lethal, but even if it wasn’t, a strike from that would put any man out of action.
It was midafternoon and he was glad to be in the woods out of the heat. For what seemed a long time Moz had been out in the forest setting traps. He was determined to help the settlers even as he begrudged every hour he wasn’t searching for the Dark Sages’ base. At least his prisoner was still alive. No one had even tried to make a move on him despite the many angry glares he received as Moz guided him to the shed that served as the town’s jail.
In the time available, Moz felt like they’d accomplished quite a bit. The village was fortified with extra barriers outside the wall to slow a charge and make it hard to set up scaling ladders. His traps should slow the enemy advance as well, though he knew it wouldn’t stop a determined enemy. And from what Alva said, the bandits feared the Dark Sages far more than anything he and the settlers might do.
Moz straightened and scrubbed a hand across his face. He’d done about all he could out here. He needed to take a scouting run further out and see if the enemy was approaching. He didn’t expect any action for a couple more days, but you couldn’t count on anything at times like these. Best to make sure.
He left the site of his most recent surprise and slipped silently through the forest. His gaze never stopped searching for the faint signs he’d left. Would’ve been embarrassing to trip his own trap. Fatal too.
When he’d left the danger zone behind, Moz picked up speed. The forest ran for nearly a mile with only a single cart path leading to the village. They’d felled trees across the path to slow the bandits’ advance and hopefully drive them into the woods. He sighed as the edge of the forest approached. There was far too much hoping and shoulds in their plans. It didn’t exactly fill him with confidence.
Just short of the fields beyond the tree line Moz stopped. A motley collection of ragged men and women had gathered around a dozen fires. A quick count revealed nearly four hundred bandits. More than they expected, but not a lot more. Five heavily laden supply wagons were parked to one side and guarded by twenty men armed with spears and crossbows. Beside the wagons loomed a steel-tipped, wheeled ram. The ram itself was suspended from heavy chains and protected by an iron-clad roof. No way had the bandits built it on their own. That was a professional war machine.
Where did they get it? The Dark Sages, probably. That one piece of siege equipment, more than all the bandits put together, told him just how much trouble the settlement was in. He needed to get back and warn everyone. There was still time for them to flee and reach the Rend border. The bandits could burn an empty village and call their job done.
Moz sighed and slipped deeper into the trees. There was time, but he doubted the settlers would run. They were all dedicated, determined to fight and die for their new home and the ideals it represented. Moz respected that, but it was a position likely to get them all killed.
After his scouting mission, Moz had returned to the settlement and made his report. The village leaders, Bernard and Ella, along with four leading citizens had joined Moz in their city hall, a four-room cabin that was also Bernard and Ella’s home. A round dinner table did double duty for town meetings.
“Gods’ blood!” Bernard said when Moz finished explaining what they faced. “That’s worse than we feared.”
“Much worse,” Moz said. “The Dark Sages want you destroyed and they’re not taking half measures anymore. That ram will destroy your gate in five strikes. I don’t question your courage or determination, but given the weapons available, I can’t see any way for you to stop the ram. And once the bandits get inside the wall you’ve lost your only advantage.”
“What do you suggest?” Ella asked. Her hands were clenched so tight her knuckles had turned white.
“I suggest you gather everything you can carry and run for the Rend border. You can always rebuild, but only if you’re alive.”
“And when we do, they’ll send another gang of marauders to burn us out.” Bernard shook his head. “We have to make a stand eventually. Better to do it now.”
The others looked nervous but they nodded all the same. Moz figured that would be their reaction. Still, he had to try to convince them.
“I und
erstand,” Moz said. “Losing everything’s a hard prospect to swallow.”
“Will you help us?” Bernard asked.
“Can’t. I’ve got my own mission and if I die here it fails. That’s not acceptable. My traps should take out a few. I’m sorry I can’t do more.”
Bernard sighed. “No, I shouldn’t have asked. Your warning at least gave us a chance. You didn’t have to do that, or anything else. We’re grateful for everything.”
He stuck out his hand and Moz shook it. “Good luck.”
He’d barely released the man’s hand when the door burst open and a girl about twenty dressed all in forest green said, “Someone’s coming.”
“Who?” Bernard asked.
She shook her head. “He looks rough, but he’s carrying a white flag. Some of the archers want to feather him, but Tad convinced them to wait for you.”
“Thank you, dear. Back to your post.” Bernard waved her off and rubbed his eyes.
“That was faster than I expected them to arrive,” Moz said. “Copper’ll get you gold that this guy’s job is to keep you talking so his comrades can get in position.”
“I suspect you’re right. Still, I’d best hear him out. At the very least it appears the chance to flee has vanished.”
“For all of us,” Moz said.
“Then you’re staying?” Ella brightened at once.
“No choice. I can’t do what I have to with bandits on my trail and if they see me escape they’ll give chase. Can’t have witnesses to a massacre.”
She winced at his choice of words, but Moz wasn’t the sort to sugarcoat things. Their only options were victory or death.
Bernard led the way out. The entire group made the short walk to a set of stairs that led to the battlements. At the top waited a handful of archers with nocked arrows. They all wore woodsman’s garb in brown and green.
A scruffy bearded man that would have fit right in with the bandits said, “Just give the word and we’ll stick the bastard.”
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