The Thief Lord's Son (The Eastern Slave Series Book 3)

by Victor Poole

  When she had settled the little boys into an upper chamber of the temple, and made arrangements for food and shelter for her black horse, which Delmar had taken back to the horse trader at the edge of the stable district, Ajalia ventured forth into the market.

  It was early in the afternoon when she came into the bustling streets; she saw that the merchants did not know her as Ajalia, the strange black-haired slave who sewed dancing lines of colored silk thread into Slavithe cloth. They looked at her now and saw a foreign girl who was nothing more than a leftover relic of the caravan that had departed the city quietly before the dawn.

  Several of the merchants spoke to her of the caravan's departure, and teased her for hints of the caravan's final destination.

  "Have they gone to Saroyan?" one man asked her jovially, as she looked over his collection of furniture.

  "Where is that?" Ajalia asked the man, and his eyes twinkled.

  "Across the sea, miss," he told her, "to the east. We trade there on ships."

  "I don't know where they have gone now," Ajalia said, and she meant it. Leed had not yet appeared, and she knew that Philas would waste little time in disposing of the remaining silks, and purchasing passage for the slaves to his native Saroyan.

  "Then they've gone north of the quarries," the man told her knowingly. "And they've left you behind, have they?" he asked, grinning. She shrugged helplessly.

  "My master has acquired property here," she explained, an apology in her eyes. "And they needed everyone else for the silks."

  "Well, Slavithe is not a bad place to land, after all," the furniture maker told her jovially. He grinned at her with more than a hint of patronage. "You'll marry easily enough," he said, "if you want to."

  "Oh, I am not free to marry," Ajalia said. She knew that the man thought she was a slave, and was testing her. She looked innocent, and naive. She was embracing this new energy that carried her like a wave through the crowds of people in Slavithe. Her old self had been dangerous, quick like a serpent in talk, and stealthy in her looks. People had watched her before, because her energy was disturbed, and because things happened so often around her. Now, Ajalia found, that her arms were smooth and white, and her face was no longer creased in anger and fear, the Slavithe men and their women spoke to her as they would to a child. She enjoyed her new state; she felt invisible, and their lack of suspicion gave her power.

  She had examined her eyes in the black stone mirror, when she had cut her hair, and she had seen that they were wider, more childlike. She looked more like an innocent girl. She knew not if she had Delmar's kisses to thank for this transformation, or the healing potency of the cords of gold from beneath the earth, but she threw herself into the new Ajalia with utter abandon. She had not bothered to change her name, but she said it now with a Slavithe lilt; she could see that the people of the city heard a different name entirely. This pleased her.

  Ajalia arranged for the delivery of the furniture she purchased, and left the warehouse. Her fellow slave, Barat, had departed with the yurl after Philas had visited her in the woods; Barat had carried with him the saddles, bridles, and packs of the Eastern caravan, and left in Denai's care the asses, and many of the horses, that the caravan had brought to Slavithe.

  Ajalia had determined, against her better feelings, that the horses must be sold, and she walked now towards the stable district, turning over the money in her pockets that Card had delivered her. Card was an efficient man, and a reliable one. Ajalia counted herself infinitely lucky to have stumbled on him. She had paid for the release of Card's daughter, and had settled in writing a sum upon his grandson. Card had spoken once of shipping his daughter and grandson farther east, perhaps even across the sea, and Ajalia was sure that if Philas contacted her, and let her know that he had gone there, that Card's family would find ready sanctuary with the Eastern slaves.

  Ajalia had never heard of a caravan flying so far off course as this one had; it was lucky, in a way, that Lim was dead, for if he had returned to the East, even had their master's wishes been fully fulfilled, Lim would have been punished severely for so thoroughly losing control of the caravan and the slaves in his charge.

  Ajalia reached the stable district, and entered into discussion with Denai. The Slavithe horse trader did not recognize her at first, but when she pulled her hair up onto her head, and told him of the time she had asked him for sailor's hoods, his eyes cleared, and he laughed.

  "I never would have seen you under all that," Denai exclaimed, waving his hands at her hair, which was waving now, and loose about her face. "It softens you," he added mildly.

  "I must rid myself," Ajalia said, "of many of my horses." Denai's face transformed at once. His eyebrows snarled, and his mouth became a bow of anxiety. "You told me," she said, "that Alden was the best horse dealer in Slavithe."

  "It is so," Denai said at once. "He is an honest man, and clever. He sees what lies beneath the skin of a horse. I think he can see into the horse's soul."

  "I have little fondness for my asses," Ajalia told him, "but I am interested in the disposal of my horses." Denai nodded.

  "The Eastern horses are very fine," he told her. "I have men come many days, asking to buy them."

  "They have not been used to metal bits," Ajalia told him. "This disturbs me."

  Denai was watching her face. He had sucked in one side of his cheek, and his eyes were thoughtful.

  "I know a man," he said, "who could train them, perhaps."

  "And then you will sell them to Alden?" Ajalia asked. Denai watched her, and his smile unfolded slowly over his face.

  "I suppose I will," Denai said. "You are a curious one, Ajalia." She watched him, but made no sign. "We are not kind to foreigners," Denai said, "when they do come. We make a show of welcoming them, and we give them the appearance of friendship, but when it comes to such a time as this—"

  "What time is this?" Ajalia asked.

  "A time of parting," Denai said. "I should cheat you, Ajalia. I should, and I cannot tell you why I think I will not."

  "Because you are honest," she suggested.

  "No," he said. "I am honest, mostly," he amended, "but there is no honesty with foreigners." Ajalia watched Denai's face; his cheeks were hollow, and his skin was pale. She wanted to feed him something nourishing.

  "Where do you live?" Ajalia asked suddenly. Denai laughed at her.

  "Why?" he asked.

  "I am not leaving," Ajalia said, "but I have no need of horses, and they are expensive to keep." She meant to keep her black horse, but she had stabled him farther down the row, in the place where the wealthy men kept their harness horses. Denai considered her face.

  "Why do you ask me where I live?" he asked again.

  "Because I thought about it," Ajalia said. "You look like a lonely person, and I have an extraordinarily large house. It is embarrassing to me, how large my house is."

  "Where is this house?" Denai asked, laughter in his eyes. His teeth flashed.

  "I have moved to the great dragon temple, just above and behind the Thief Lord's house," Ajalia said.

  Denai's whole complexion went through a gradual revolution. He ended by looked both ashen and delighted.

  "What are you doing in Slavithe?" he asked finally. Ajalia smiled widely at him, and he shivered.

  "Will you move into my house?" she asked.

  The temple of the dragon carvings was in a narrow street that lay at an angle behind the Thief Lord's spacious white home. The temple was three stories high, and had large stone balustrades that led out into the street. The first temple Ajalia had entered in Slavithe, the windowless building filled with carvings of horses, had been curiously blank and wide, bare of balconies or openings, aside from the entrance, but the dragon temple abounded in elegant windows and arches to the outside. Curveting dragons danced up each of the rails, and one long dragon, breathing a trail of white fire, had been carved into the long white rim of balustrade. The front of the temple was a chaotic dance of carved animals; chief
among these was an enormous dragon, writhing up over the surface of the three floors, his head resting just above the main balcony that opened out over the street.

  Ajalia had taken this room with the balcony as her own; she placed a pad of cloth and straw at the edge of the wall, where no one could see into the room from the houses opposite, and she put a table and a chair over against the wall near the balcony, where the sunlight streamed in.

  She went to most of the furniture merchants in Slavithe, and looked over much of what they sold. She was selective, and cautious in her purchases, and she took her time. By the time she had finished furnishing the temple, and hanging the old paintings on the walls, the spacious halls of the dragon temple had taken on an elegant, if sepulchral, glow.

  She had asked Card how Chad had possibly acquired such a building in a trade for rebuilding some quarry huts, and Card had explained that the temples in Slavithe had fallen into such disuse, and were so particularly and spaciously constructed, that they were seen more as disadvantageous burdens than as valuable properties. Each hut in the quarry, he told her, turned in a constant stream of money; the rents may have been paltry, but they were consistent, and there was an endless demand for the use of such huts. The Slavithe people of the quarries and pits who could not afford a hut, or who could not obtain one of the few slipshod structures that lay alongside the gravel pits, found shelter in the mountains, or lived like animals in encampments beside the river that came out towards the sea.

  Ajalia had commissioned Card wholly with the restoration and construction of the quarry huts; he had collected a group of the finest miners, tempting them away from the quarry work with higher wages, and safer work. She took a trip to the quarries, two weeks after returning to the city of Slavithe, and was pleased with the utterly different appearance of the once-ramshackle shacks that lay above the gravel pits.

  When she had seen them before, she had wondered how they stood without shaking apart in the slightest breeze. Now, under the hands of Card's foreman and his crew, the huts were long, sturdy structures of black stone; they stretched much higher; because of the firmness of the foundations, Card had been able to build more units above those they had rebuilt.

  "We'd like to continue building," Card told Ajalia. He had accompanied her to the quarries. His hair was turning quite white now, and his cheeks had filled out with reliable feedings, and better living. Card's chin was held firmer, and his eyes brighter. He no longer glared out from beneath angry, thrusting eyebrows. He looked quite respectable, and prosperous.

  "There are low stretches of valley like this," Card said, pointing to the narrow space of ground where the huts were built, "all through the mines. If we could continue to build, most of the quarry workers would be housed in a few years. Their work would improve. Not so many of the children," he added, his eyes gleaming, "would die."

  "What is stopping us?" Ajalia asked. She and Card were walking along the road that stretched from the outer gate of Slavithe to the long harbor and the sea. On one hand were the gaping pits where the gravel was dug, and shipped east to Saroyan; on the other were the glistening, sturdy huts.

  "The Thief Lord," Card said quietly, glancing at the workers who bustled on their left side, "has a man who controls much of the quarry land. He's a sharp businessman, but he has no love for the poor."

  "And?" Ajalia asked.

  "As things stand," Card said, his eyes taking in the place where his men labored over a length of solid stone, "he could take what we've added, those units on top, in the name of the Thief Lord."

  "Because they occupy space that was not previously owned?" Ajalia asked.

  "Yes," Card said. "I doubt he would allow new structures to be built along the valleys here."

  "I see," Ajalia said. She kept a neutral look on her face; she knew that she looked like Card's daughter to the workers here. "What is this man's name?" she asked.

  Card glanced at her.

  "Be careful," he warned her. "The Thief Lord is one matter, but some of his men are not so genteel." Ajalia's lips twitched; she said nothing to this. She was learning to keep her words to herself, and to cultivate a sweet and innocent expression on her face. She had never quite mastered the young maid act, but she was learning quickly now.

  Card glanced at her, and smiled.

  "You won't listen to me," he said gruffly. She smiled at him. "His name's Ocher," Card said. "I don't know if he kills people, but his business runs very smoothly."

  "Do you know where he lives?" Ajalia asked.

  "Don't see him," Card said. "Go and see the Thief Lord. I know he likes you, or at least, he won't try to kill you." Ajalia thought of Lim, and of the poisoned dart, and she said nothing.

  "I will consider your words," she told Card, and they walked on.

  OCHER PAYS A VISIT

  Ocher came to the dragon temple with Delmar and Wall in tow; Ajalia had not expected the two young men, but she rather enjoyed the spectacle of Delmar and his younger brother tagging along behind the burly Ocher. Ajalia was arrayed in a plain Slavithe tunic, but she wore her leather knife harness over the top, and she had fashioned a pair of white leggings from a spare length of curtain she had found folded in the depths of the temple basement. Her hair was dressed loosely about her face, and she had used the Eastern trick of tinting her eyes and cheeks with a hint of red.

  She saw Delmar staring at her out of the corner of her eye, and she glowed with a satisfaction that she kept to herself. Her eyes were fixed on Ocher, who had a wild brown beard, and eyes that twinkled like blue crystals over merry cheeks. She wanted to smile when she saw the Thief Lord's man of the quarries, but she restrained her enthusiasm. This, she reflected, was going to be an interesting afternoon.

  She had invited Ocher to the dragon temple to partake of an Eastern meal. One of her little boys bore the message. She had little in the way of foodstuffs from the East, but she had kept a pair of spice boxes, and she could roast moderately well in the Eastern style. Her boys were busy in the back courtyard of the temple, where Ajalia had arranged for an outdoor stove to be thrown up, and Daniel had been scurrying hither and yon all morning with a look of near-panic on his face.

  "You aren't really going to feed me, are you?" Ocher asked Ajalia, as soon as he had come into the spacious entrance hall of the temple. He looked around at the elegant drape against one wall, and the shining floors.

  "There shall be food," Ajalia assured him, "but I will be satisfied with your presence." Ocher grinned at her; he had a quick smile, and fierce teeth. Ajalia thought that he looked like an overgrown fox. She glanced at the two younger men who followed him. Delmar avoided her eyes, but Wall was staring at her openly. Wall, the second child of the Thief Lord, was just beginning to have a dusting of light brown over his chin; his eyes were like his father's but his shoulders were narrower than Delmar's, and his hands were smaller.

  "You carry a weapon openly," Ocher observed, following Ajalia through the long, echoing hall. "And you live in a temple," he added.

  "Among my own people," Ajalia said over her shoulder, "I am a curiosity."

  "Do you know how to use that knife?" Ocher asked suddenly. Ajalia knew he was looking at the worn leather casing around the sheath, and the well-kept hilt of her knife, which hugged against her back.

  "Ask Delmar," she said. Delmar uttered a noise like a startled animal. Ocher turned towards him a little.

  "Well?" Ocher asked, laughing at the confusion on Delmar's face. Delmar's eyes were flickering from the back of Ajalia's head to the floor, and back again.

  "I don't know," Delmar mumbled.

  "I bet you don't know how," Wall said loudly. "My brother's a little dim," he told Ajalia. She nodded, but said nothing. Delmar met Ajalia's eyes for a moment as she turned into the room that lay against the back courtyard; Delmar's lips were pressed together into a furious line.

  Ajalia gestured to the seats that were arrayed in a semi-circle around the low table in the center of the room. The ceilings throughout
the temple were quite high; when they had first moved in, Ajalia had secured some rigging and plain scaffolding to allow the boys to scrub the upper corners of the rooms, where the dust and cobwebs had grown thick. The three Slavithe men sat down, and Ajalia called to Daniel, who came scurrying in, his face a violent red.

  "Water first," she told the boy in the Eastern tongue, "and then the meat."

  Daniel ducked his head, and fled.

  "You teach your servants a new language?" Ocher asked with interest. Ajalia saw that his eyes were still turned lightly towards the leather straps that passed under her arms, and across her ribs.

  "They are bound to my master, now," Ajalia said. "He will wish to speak to them, when he comes."

  "Your master returns to Slavithe?" Ocher asked quickly.

  "It is my hope," Ajalia said.

  "Will you sit?" Ocher asked. Ajalia bowed a little

  "It is not our custom," she said, "to sit before our betters." She saw Wall sit up a little straighter at these words. Ocher examined her eyes.

  "My Thief Lord tells me," Ocher told her, "that you sat before him."

  Ajalia smiled a slow smile.

  "Will you send the young boy away?" she asked, looking over at Wall. The Thief Lord's second son blushed; he looked torn between mortification and anger. Delmar half-rose in his seat.

  "Why?" Ocher asked. He was watching Ajalia closely, a bemused look on his face.

  Ajalia said nothing, but something about the dancing light in her eyes made Ocher nod slowly.

  "Get out," Ocher told Wall. "Run home to your mother."

  Wall stiffened, his face contorted with rage. Delmar sat down again.

  "No!" Wall hissed, looking towards Ocher, his face tilting towards the bearded man of the quarries like a young snake reaching for an egg. "I won't leave, not if he's here," Wall added in a low voice, glancing with dislike at Delmar.