by Victor Poole
"I'll give you permission to manhandle my son," the Thief Lord said, "if you cultivate Clare for me as well."
"You've already given me Delmar," Ajalia said. The Thief Lord's mouth tightened. He smiled through his teeth. Ajalia saw clear dislike in the Thief Lord's eyes.
"What else do you want?" he asked her. She considered him.
"I have heard rumors," she said, "from my servants, that Delmar has killed a man." The Thief Lord waited for her to speak; his nostrils flared a little, and his head almost tilted, like a bird listening. "Is this true?" Ajalia asked.
"I do not know," the Thief Lord said. "My men say it is so."
"But you do not believe it is so?" she asked. The Thief Lord shrugged.
"He is a boy," the Thief Lord said, "and he is clumsy."
"Do you have men that kill?" Ajalia asked. The Thief Lord did not move, but his eyes sharpened. He said nothing. "If there are such men in your employ," she said.
"There aren't," the Thief Lord put in.
"Or if such men exist, and they will answer to your charge," she said, "send them after Delmar, and we will see. This is my price."
"And if he should die?" the Thief Lord asked. Ajalia shrugged.
"I suppose I would have more time for Clare," she told him. The Thief Lord smiled, like a carnivore eating.
"You are vicious," he said, and he sounded pleased.
"I am a slave," she said.
"Not all slaves are like you," he countered. She bowed her head in acquiescence.
"It may be so," she admitted. "Be that as it may, what is your answer?"
"If there are such men," the Thief Lord said, "and if they are not wholly without loyalty or obedience to me, it shall be done."
Ajalia bowed her head.
"What is to prevent you from warning my son?" the Thief Lord asked suddenly.
"I leave the city tonight," Ajalia said. "Have me followed, if you like. In three days, I will return."
The Thief Lord nodded slowly.
"I've heard you live in the dragon temple now," he said.
"Just a little behind you," she agreed with a smile. "A happy accident."
"Yes," the Thief Lord said. He stood, and accompanied her towards the door. "A pleasure," he said, when he had opened the front door.
"My condolences on your impending loss," Ajalia said smoothly. She caught the Thief Lord's eye; he pressed his lips together in a controlled smile.
"We will see," he said. Ajalia bowed, and led Clare away. The girl followed her through the dark and quiet streets to the corner, where Card waited with the horse.
"You still have the girl," Card observed. Ajalia shrugged.
"It was a noble attempt," she said, "but the girl is suitably frightened now, and receptive." She looked at Clare; the young woman's eyes were fixed and glassy. Her hair fell about her in disheveled waves. Card looked at Clare, and his face was hard. "I'm going back to the fabric merchant," Ajalia told Card. Her eyes, now that she was away from the Thief Lord, were tired.
"Let me help," Card suggested. Ajalia looked at him.
"I'll do it myself," she said.
"Give me the girl," Card said. "I'll keep her."
"There are two others," Ajalia said.
"Bring them to my house," Card said. "My daughter will mind them for a bit."
"This one may run," Ajalia said wearily. "She's better bound, and with me."
"My daughter can bind her at home," Card said easily. Ajalia gave him a skeptical look, and Card laughed. "I was not always so honest as I am now," Card said. "My daughter isn't squeamish."
"It would be a great help," Ajalia admitted.
"Come on then," Card said. "We'll leave the wench with Daila, and fetch the others. You can tell me what happened with the huts and Ocher on the way."
They went around the block, and down the short stretch to the white oblong house. Daila took Clare without question, leading her by the rope into the house. Ajalia led the black horse as she walked through the streets beside Card towards Calles's house. The black horse's hooves made sharp echoes against the walls of the houses.
"Ocher is not a bad man," Ajalia told Card. "He's lonely, and bored."
"You feel sorry for him," Card said with surprise.
"No," Ajalia said, "but he could be developed into much more than he is now."
Card walked beside her, his eyes on the flickering lights of the torches that licked the ground.
"And what did you have to give him," he asked, "to get the new huts?"
"Not much," Ajalia said lightly.
"What?" Card insisted. She glanced at his face in the dark; he looked tired, and old in the blackness. Shadows were under his eyes, and the corners of his mouth drew down.
"I promised him a wife," Ajalia said.
"He's married," Card said.
"And I promised him an interesting future," she said. They walked in silence for a time, their feet making whispering scrapes that intermingled with the clatter of the black horse's hooves. The black horse paced along at Ajalia's shoulder, his muzzle bobbing with friendly interest behind her. Ajalia felt herself becoming inordinately fond of the black horse; she was beginning to think of him as a sort of talisman.
"Ocher must have asked for more than that," Card said finally.
"He asked for me," Ajalia said. Card looked sharply at her.
"What did you say to that?" he asked.
"Delmar was there," she told him. "Delmar was suitably territorial."
Card laughed, but his laugh was not free of care. "And?" he asked.
"I told him that after three years, you would work for him instead of me," Ajalia said. Card looked straight ahead. His hands were folded behind his back; his shining white hair fell in a thick curtain over his neck.
"Did you think I would agree to this?" Card asked finally.
"Three years is an eternity," Ajalia told him. "Ocher may die. I might be gone. You might change."
Card stepped over the white stone. Ajalia could hear the old man's breath heaving gently beside her. She felt again as though she were near a grandfather.
"You are presumptuous," Card told her. His voice was thoughtful.
"I am usually right," Ajalia said.
"Maybe not this time," he said.
"Maybe not," she agreed. "I told him that you would have outgrown my purposes by then."
"And what did you mean by that?" Card asked.
"The quarries will change you," Ajalia said. Card listened, his fingers flexing open and shut behind him. The horse's ears flicked from Ajalia to Card, and back again. "You'll become stronger," she said, "more sure of yourself. Your vision of what is possible will expand."
"And this will make me want to work for Ocher?" Card asked. He sounded skeptical.
"No," Ajalia said, "but I will no longer be able to give you the scope you desire. Ocher could give you scope."
"I don't want scope," Card told her. "And I like working for you."
"You will want more," she said, "especially after Delmar normalizes."
"You think he will change?" Card asked.
"I know he will," Ajalia said. "Then he will change me," she added. Card smiled at her.
"And you think this will drive me away?" he asked. Ajalia regarded him solemnly.
"I will become very selfish," she said. "I think I will no longer speak frankly."
"Then I do not approve of Delmar," Card said firmly.
"It doesn't matter," Ajalia said.
"You matter," Card said. Ajalia laughed. Card looked sharply at her. "Why did you laugh?" he demanded.
"I don't matter," she said, mirth still squirming out of her. Card stopped walking, and pulled at her arm.
"Stop," he said, his voice like an axe.
"Stop what?" Ajalia asked lightly.
"This," Card said. "This fatalistic way that you treat yourself. I am an old man," he said.
"I know," Ajalia said.
"Stop being sardonic," Card snapped. "I am older th
an you. I have seen people change over time. You cannot do this to yourself." Ajalia studied his eyes in the dim shadowed light.
"I'm not doing anything," she told him. He let go of her arm. His mouth was still carved down in a harsh semi-circle, the cracks and wrinkles in his cheeks making deep crevices around his frown.
"I don't like it," Card said.
"Sorry," Ajalia said.
"Don't apologize," Card said. "Just stop hurting so much." They walked towards the entrance to the market, which was dark and ominous in the deepening night.
"I don't know how," Ajalia said into the night. The horse followed them, casting a long shadow against the nearest wall. Ajalia put her fingers into the horse's cheek; he whuffled at her. They wound through the market until they came to the fabric merchant's stall, where Calles and her husband and children lived. Ajalia gave Card the reins to her horse, and went under the deep shadow of the stall. The paper she had written out in front of the little house was in her pocket; she drew it out, and smoothed it. She knocked softly on the door.
A DISRUPTED JOURNEY
The door opened at once; Ajalia thought that the child within must have been standing just behind the door, waiting for her. The fabric merchant hurried down the stairs at the sound of the door; he put a hand on Ajalia's arm, and pulled her out into the darkness.
"What happened to my wife?" the fabric merchant asked hurriedly, his eyes darting to the open door, and the rooms within. "She's been crying for over an hour," the man explained, "and she won't tell me why."
Ajalia told him what Clare had said, and what she herself had promised to do. The fabric merchant looked at her, a puzzled expression in his eyes. Calles came slowly into view, carrying two bundles. She was followed by Sun and Ossa.
"I don't understand," the fabric merchant whispered, his eyes on his wife. "What happened?"
Card was standing nearby, a pained look on his face. He had listened to Ajalia give a brief account of what had passed between the women, and a sharp crease had appeared between his brows as he heard Ajalia speak.
"Take a walk with me," Card said to the fabric merchant. "I shall explain life to you."
The fabric merchant glanced questioningly at Ajalia; she waved him towards Card, who put an arm around the merchant, and went with him into the streets that wound through the clusters of darkened stalls. Ajalia could hear the deep murmur of Card's voice as he rebuked the man for being an insensitive brute to his wife.
Calles hurried towards Ajalia, her chin tucked in against her chest, and her eyes low.
"I've packed some things for you," Calles said breathlessly. Ajalia heard a roughened edge to Calles's voice; she thought that the woman had, indeed, been crying forcefully. "There's food," Calles said, "and some clothes."
Ajalia saw the fabric merchant's wife's eyes dart quickly to her clothes; Ajalia had never appeared before the fabric merchant's wife in such poor clothing as she did now. Ajalia suppressed a smile.
"I thank you," Ajalia said. She put the paper into Calles's hand. "The house belongs to you, and only you," Ajalia said. She glanced at the place where Card and Calles's husband stood, their backs to the stall, their heads bent together. The black horse stood near Card, his right hind hoof tilted at an angle against the ground.
Calles's eyes brimmed with tears.
"I didn't think you meant it," Calles confessed. "You don't need to give me your house."
"Take this," Ajalia said firmly. She folded Calles's fingers around the paper. The fabric merchant's wife's hand was chilly and limp. Ajalia chafed the cold flesh. "Things will get better," Ajalia said in a low voice. She could see Calles's children gathered in the shadow of the open door. "You have a place of your own, now," Ajalia said. "Don't be so hard on yourself. You will feel better some day."
Calles had bit her lips together; she sniffed, and wiped her eyes with the heel of her hand.
"This is silliness," she said briskly.
"You are an honorable wife," Ajalia said firmly. She put her hands on either side of Calles's face. "You did this," Ajalia told her, "not me."
"No," Calles murmured. Sun and Ossa were standing in the corner of the fabric stall, their faces obscured with shadow, and their arms around each other's waists. "If you hadn't given me the money," Calles began, but Ajalia cut her off.
"There are many women in this city," Ajalia said loudly. "I have not helped any others. You did this. You are special."
"I'm not," Calles whispered. Ajalia released her face, and squeezed her hand.
"Your children are very lucky," Ajalia said. "I wish I had had a mother like you."
Calles lost control of her sniffles; a blubbering fountain of tears began to spill over her cheeks. She hugged Ajalia fiercely, and ran, the paper clutched in her fist, into the house.
The fabric merchant wandered over to where Ajalia stood. She called to Sun, and to Ossa. The two Slavithe girls came hesitantly towards her. They were gripping each other's hands hard, and their faces were pinched and still.
"Your friend tells me I have been an ass," the fabric merchant told Ajalia.
"Do you think you've been an ass?" Ajalia asked him. She put the two packs into the young women's hands, and looked at the fabric merchant.
"Everyone does as I have done," the merchant said slowly. Ajalia waited, her face a calm mask. "I suppose," the merchant said with a smile, "that this does not make it right."
"No," Ajalia agreed. Card approached her; she took the reins from him, and mounted the black horse.
"I'll take them home," Card told her. "Daila can manage three little wenches all right."
"Are you going to sell us?" Sun blurted out, her face a white picture of fear.
"I haven't decided yet," Ajalia told the girl.
"Thank you," the fabric merchant said. Ajalia could not tell if he spoke to her or to Card.
"For what?" Card asked him.
"For your patience," the merchant said. "I will try to do right."
"She might leave you," Ajalia said to him. The fabric merchant had clearly not considered this; Ajalia watched derision, and then discomfort, chase each other over his visage.
"I hope she will not," the merchant said finally, his voice strained.
"You'd better tell her that," Ajalia said. "Come," she told the girls, and rode towards the entrance of the market. Card stayed behind to speak to the merchant; Ajalia halted the horse when she came into the open street, and dismounted.
"Tell me," she said to the two young women, "did you know that Clare was sneaking away?"
Ossa glanced at Sun, but Sun looked straight at Ajalia.
"I knew," Sun said. "I should have told."
"Yes," Ajalia agreed. Sun watched as Ajalia took the first pack, and tied it to a ring built into the skirt of the saddle.
"Are you going to sell me?" Sun asked.
"Would you like to be sold?" Ajalia asked her.
"No," Sun said quickly. Ajalia glanced at the girl. Fear was in her face still, but courage blazed there as well.
"What would you like?" Ajalia asked her. Sun lifted her chin, and looked straight at Ajalia.
"I want to be a wife, like Calles," Sun said.
"How will you pay for this?" Ajalia asked Sun.
"Teach me," the girl said swiftly. Her eyes flickered to her companion. She took a half-step closer to Ajalia. "Teach me to protect myself, and to make money," Sun said. "I will learn very fast."
"You don't know what you're asking," Ajalia told her, but she was thinking of Ocher, and of Chad. She had thought of marrying Chad away before this, but she had thought of it idly. Now she looked at Ossa, and she wondered what the effect such a pairing would have on Chad's disposition. A partial smile chased over her lips; she felt a little brutal as she imagined the redness of Chad's face, and the terror that would fill his bosom at the prospect of life partnership with a female.
"I will tell you what I have been thinking," Ajalia said slowly. She took the second pack from Ossa, and tied it to
the other side of the saddle. The two girls followed her around the horse. Sun put a hand on the black horse's flank; Ajalia pushed Sun's hand away. "My horse," Ajalia said clearly. Sun balked, but stepped back.
"I have been thinking of taking you to learn to farm," Ajalia said.
"In the dark valley," Ossa said with a gasp. She glanced at Sun. "I heard that he took them there, but I didn't believe it."
"Believe it," Ajalia said. She finished securing the pack, and turned to face the two girls. The black horse put his face against Ajalia's back, and scratched his forelock on her shoulder. Ajalia braced herself against his heavy head; the two girls watched her silently. "If you go to the dark valley," Ajalia said, "you will not come back to the city of Slavithe." She looked between the two girls. "You will learn to farm. If you run away, I will have you hunted, and you will be sold either to the quarries, or to Talbos. They have slaves in Talbos," she reminded them drily.
"We know that," Sun said tartly. "We'd rather get married," she said, looking swiftly at Ossa. "Wouldn't we?" Sun asked anxiously. Ossa looked at Sun, her eyes wide. After a long moment, she nodded.
"Yes," Ossa said.
"I will think about this," Ajalia told them. She put her foot in the stirrup, and mounted the horse. Chad was heavy in her thoughts; she imagined what he would look like shouting, with his arms raised above his head. Ajalia chewed on her lip, and watched the market entrance for Card. In a few minutes, the old man appeared, walking slowly through the night.
"Come," Card said to Sun and Ossa. "You are coming with me."
"I told Ocher I would send a contract," Ajalia said to Card. He looked up at her, his eyes piercing in the darkness.
"I will think over what you have said," Card told her. "There are still the hinges to put on the doors of the last huts, and the floors to glaze."
"I will let you choose the places to begin in the quarries," Ajalia said. "Have one or two spots ready to show me when I get back."
"I'll be ready," Card said. He looked up at her, and she looked down at him.
"Sorry for being sad," she said. "And bossy," she threw in. Card shook his head.
"I like you as you are," he said.
"Tell Daila I will pay her for her time," Ajalia said. Card nodded. He put a hand on Ajalia's knee.