*
“We still don’t know what these ratings mean,” Gisele said. They sat around Talika’s low table with their stolen map spread out in front of them. “What’s good about this village? Is it just a measure of how easy it’d be to invade?”
They’d spent a few days with Talika and Makta, but nothing in the village or its surrounding countryside was providing them with any clues. Short of waiting for visitors from Taraska to present themselves, they had very little by way of a plan.
“Do you think any of the villages would seriously resist a Taraskan attack?” Daniel asked.
Gisele shook her head. “Perhaps we should travel out here – to the one they’ve marked trouble. At least we might see what the difference is.”
“I think we’ve been looking at this the wrong way round,” Eleanor said, picking up a handful of sand-nuts.
“What do you mean?”
“This isn’t about the borders. They’re not after land – what use is this land to anyone?” She prised the two halves of the nut shell apart with her dagger. “It’s not like Charan conquering island after island to feed his growing army. The drylands are almost completely barren.”
“That does not seem to trouble the Taraskans.”
“Because they’re not trying to take the land. Think about it. Why would anyone want a few peasant villages and a stretch of infertile sand? Would you plan an invasion just for a few sand-nut trees?”
“For building.”
Gisele shook her head. “No, she’s right. Taraska has always kept its footprint small. Lots of external trade and visitors, and not too many permanent citizens to clutter the place up.”
“So if they don’t want the land,” Eleanor said, “what could they possibly want from here?”
“You’ve got an idea,” Gisele said. “Let’s hear it.”
“Have you noticed that we’ve only talked to women? Where are all the men?”
“I had assumed they were out working,” Daniel said.
“Doing what, in these sands? Not farming, that’s for certain.”
“I am not sure, but we know that some of the foreigners are squeamish about letting women do physical work.”
“But there is no work here. There’s nothing to do. And manpower is the one thing the Tarasanka lords can’t buy – not on any normal market.”
“You told me once that you saw children for sale.”
“They don’t want children, though, if they can help it. You have to look after children. They want at least young teenagers – lads who are strong enough to pull an oar on one of those battleships.”
“Slaves,” Gisele said, and she looked as if someone had suddenly put a match to a lantern that illuminated the whole of the region’s history. “We’ve always wondered where they find quite so many slaves.”
“I do not claim to understand these foreign notions of family,” Daniel said, almost too carefully. “But if you have a child, and in a place like this where there are no Imperial schools to bring them up, I cannot understand why you would then sell them.”
“They’re desperate,” Eleanor said. “There’s no money here, we know that. Someone’s offering them a choice, and they’d rather preserve quality of life for their daughters than keep the whole family together. Think about it. A few dollars is a fortune here, but it’s nothing in Taraska.”
“And what of the raids?”
“I guess they come back every few months, to get more girls pregnant and take away any lads who are old enough to be useful.”
“I wish we’d brought an interpreter,” Gisele said. “We could ask Talika about it. But this isn’t exactly something we can talk about with hand-waving and smiles.”
“If I’m right, what do we do about it?” Eleanor looked to Daniel. “How could we prove this, even if we wanted to?”
“Perhaps we cannot.”
“There are two other villages marked between here and the coast,” Gisele said, running her finger along the parchment. “If we go this way, we can see if there’s a shortage of men everywhere. And if that’s the case, we can take a boat back to the city with the news.”
Revolution (Chronicles of Charanthe #2) Page 12