Rae and Ash shared a glance and pulled on their ragged coats. It was going to be one of those days. They hurried out of their room, through the kitchen, and out of the front door as fast as they could.
The crisp morning air wrapped around them and brought bumps to Ash’s skin. He hugged his chest as he slipped on his thin boots. His stomach rumbled, gnawing hunger chewing at the edges.
“We haven’t eaten since lunch yesterday,” Rae said.
Ash grimaced. Given their mother’s mood, they weren’t likely to eat again for quite some time.
“Your leg looks better.”
Ash glanced down at the stitches running down his calf. He’d almost forgotten the injury and the dull throbbing had become an occasional twinge.
“Thanks to you,” he said.
Rae grinned. “Come on, Mylk will want milking.”
They climbed down the ladder and took the metal bucket from the side of the house to where Mylk stood tied to the stilts, chewing on a wilted patch of gray grass.
Rae stood in front of Mylk’s face and patted her forehead while Ash tucked the bucket underneath. After a few pulls, warm milk squirted into the bucket, splashing the sides and steaming in the cold morning air.
“Did you bring the cups?” Ash said.
Rae didn’t take her eyes from Mylk as she pulled two small glasses from her jacket and tossed them to Ash. He took the first and dipped it into the bucket of milk. “The usual for you, madam?”
“Please,” Rae said with a grin.
Ash handed her the warm glass of milk before scooping up his own. It tasted like heaven on his tongue and went a small way to filling the gaping hole in his stomach.
Rae finished her glass and wiped the white mustache from her upper lip. “That was amazing. What would we do without old Mylk?”
“Probably starve to death.”
“Think we can risk another?”
Ash glanced down at the bucket of milk and then up at the floor of their house, far above their heads. Their mother’s footsteps staggered back and forth on the squeaking timbers. “Yeah, I don’t think she’s fully sober yet. She won’t notice if the milk is a bit light.”
He filled their glasses again and this time they savored every mouthful.
Sitting out in the fresh morning air, with Mylk providing a cloud of warmth and Rae at his side, Ash could almost forget his mother and the Faceless Monks. He could almost say he felt happy.
“Ash! Rae!” their mother shrieked down at them.
Mylk shifted, uneasy, and stepped back.
Ash snatched the bucket just as Mylk’s front leg smacked into it. He pulled it up and out of the way without spilling a drop.
“Nice one,” Rae whispered, taking his glass and hiding it in her jacket pocket.
They hurried around to the ladder just as their mother reached the bottom rung.
“Sorry, Mother. Mylk was a bit slow…” Ash slowed to a stop.
“Useless cow… Time I sold her for meat.” Their mother tugged a maroon shawl over her shoulders. “Hurry up. We have to get to the temple.”
Rae scampered up the ladder and placed the bucket of milk just inside the door. Their father followed her back down, and they made a ragged line as they shuffled toward town. Their mother strode at the front, their father came next, his head bent and his shoulders slumped to hide the purple bruise that colored his cheek. Ash and Rae shuffled at the back.
Rae nudged Ash in the ribs and nodded toward the town center. Ash frowned and then his eyes widened. A green wagon stood outside the inn, paint gleaming in the morning sunlight. “A trader!”
Rae grinned at him and wiggled her eyebrows. Ash had to force himself not to dance through the arched stone entrance to the temple.
Their mother and father took seats near the front while Rae and Ash stood in the dark shadows at the back. They always did their best to stay unnoticed in case someone saw just how similar they were.
Beside Ash and Rae hunched three tall men—Skordkin. Brands shaped like half-moons on their forearms marked them as slaves of Wichden. A wave of pity washed over Ash, at least he and Rae could hide what they were, unlike the shunned Skordkin whose wide mouths and too-large features marked them as not-quite-human from the day they were born. He didn’t know exactly why the Skordkin were treated the way they were; the one time he’d tried to ask them, his mother had beaten him so hard that he hadn’t been able to see for three days.
Brother Gren strode to the front of the congregation and held up his hands for silence. His black and gold robe glimmered in the sunlight filtering through high-vaulted windows. A statue of Talon rose at the front of the temple; his eagle’s head and sharp eyes seemed to watch everyone at once.
Ash dropped his gaze to the gathered villagers. They clung to Gren’s every word, probably because of the Faceless Monks’ visit the day before.
Then another figure caught Ash’s attention. He stood at the back at the other side of the temple, his hands behind his back. He caught Ash’s eye and winked. Ash nodded back.
The man wore bright red clothes and a floppy hat hung from his clasped fingers. He had to be the trader and owner of the green wagon outside.
Ash’s heart fluttered. Traders always brought news and stories of the outside world, and following the visit from the Faceless Monks, he could use a breath of fresh air.
After the service, Ash turned to race for the trader and his green wagon. His mother snatched his shirt and dragged him back.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“The trader—”
“With the house looking like it does? And we have no fire-wood, and the bridge needs fixing.”
Her fingernails dug into his shoulder all the way back to their house.
“Ho there.”
Ash looked up from sewing closed a hole in his shirt to see the trader striding toward him across the rickety bridge that connected their piece of land to the rest.
“Who’s that?” his mother said, appearing at Ash’s elbow.
The trader stopped at the bottom of their ladder and tapped his chest twice. “Greetings. My name is Simian, a trader. It’s an honor to meet such fine people. I don’t suppose I could come up into your exquisite home?”
Ash’s mother giggled and patted down her tangled hair. “Any trader is welcome in my home. Please, come in.”
Simian scaled the ladder and Ash’s mother guided him into a chair and sat beside him.
Rae emerged from the next room and shuffled to Ash.
“What a lovely home you have,” Simian said.
Their mother beamed and smoothed down her stained dress. “You’re too kind.”
“Injured your leg?” Simian said, nodding to the stitches on Ash’s leg.
“Don’t mind them,” their mother said. “They’re always causing trouble.”
“Don’t we all,” Simian said. “But I actually came to talk to you about an offer.”
Their mother leaned forward in her chair until she threatened to fall straight off.
“I know it’s the Day of Talon so I won’t keep you long. But I have a store in Falconwall and I’m looking for some assistants. I saw your two children working in town earlier today. They seem like capable youngins.”
Their mother frowned and sat back. “I don’t understand…”
“Of course I know they must mean the world to you, so I’d be willing to pay…”
Their mother brightened. She reached out a clawed hand, snatched Rae’s wrist, and dragged her close. “I do love my children ever so much. I don’t know if I could bear to part with them.”
Simian nodded, his face grave, but Ash thought he could see a twinkle in the old man’s eyes. “Of course, I understand. But they’d be looked after, and Falconwall has many opportunities for young people.”
Ash felt as if he were floating in a dream; Falconwall, the biggest city in the known world, yet little more than a rumor in Wichden. Only in his wildest dreams had he ever imagined going t
here.
Their mother hugged Rae closer, her fingers like talons on Rae’s arm. “Of course I want the best for them. But how would I fill the hole in my heart?”
Ash had to stop himself from snorting. If it were up to his mother, he and Rae would have been killed the moment they were born. But if his mother knew anything, it was how to get the most out of a deal.
“I understand,” Simian said. “I’d be willing to offer a gold Mark each, to help ease some of your pain.”
“A gold Mark?” Her eyes flew open for just a moment before squeezing shut. “A gold Mark for my only children? They’re worth so much more than that. When I think of all the times we’ve shared…”
“You must love them very much.”
Again Simian’s eyes twinkled, and Ash felt as if he were being made part of a private joke.
“I can go as high as two Marks each.”
Their mother gasped and her face flushed red. It was more money than she’d see in two years and Ash imagined her shoving Rae at the man. “I don’t… I couldn’t part with them for less than five each.”
Sim gazed at their mother and his mouth quirked at the edges. “Okay. I’ll give you five. But that’s my final offer. There are many urchins in Falconwall that I could get for much cheaper.”
Some of the color left their mother’s face and she swallowed. “Yes, of course. I do want the best for my dear children, and they will have more opportunities in Falconwall. You have yourself a deal.”
Simian smiled and held out his hand. His mother took it and shook once.
“It’s a pleasure doing business with you. I’ll return tomorrow morning to collect them.”
“With the money?”
“Of course.”
Simian strode to the door and let himself out.
Ash watched him disappear down the ladder, whistling as he went.
“You two are finally good for something.” Their mother stood and did a small dance around the kitchen. “Ten Marks and I get rid of you. Happy days!”
Ash and Rae locked eyes. “We’re going to Falconwall?” he said.
“We’re going to Falconwall!”
“Who’s going to Falconwall?” their father said, walking through the open door.
“We are!” Ash said.
“What?” Their father frowned and turned to their mother.
“A trader just came into town. He’s bought ‘em. Going to take them away.”
“Take them away…” Their father’s voice faded and he collapsed into the nearest chair. “Take them away?”
“Yes, are you deaf?”
Ash met his father’s gaze. The older man’s eyes shone with unshed tears and his face became a stony mask. Ash’s heart clenched. He hadn’t thought about father. He’d miss the man, and worse, it meant he’d be left alone with their mother.
“You can’t sell our children,” their father said in a hoarse whisper.
Their mother’s face darkened, and she turned on him. “Excuse me?”
“Our children…”
“Are mine to do with as I wish, the same as the rest of this house. You agreed to that the moment you married me.”
“It’s not like I was given much bloody choice in that either.”
Their mother took a step toward him and raised her fist. “One more word, I dare you.”
Their father hung his head and a single tear trickled down his lined face.
Their mother snorted and turned away. “Pathetic.”
Ash went to his father and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “You could come too,” he whispered.
“I wish I could, lad. But I made a promise. I won’t anger Talon any further by breaking it.”
Ash nodded and squeezed his father’s shoulders. “You’ll be all right, Dad.”
“If you’re both finished, you have work to do. Just because you’re going to be with the heathen Southerners, doesn’t mean you can disrespect Talon.”
Through their chores, Ash and Rae shared glances and brief flashes of thought; sadness for their father, elation at going to Falconwall, fear that it was all a dream, anxiety for the unknown.
“It’s a bit strange, isn’t it?” said Rae in a low voice.
“What?” Ash said.
“One day we nearly get killed avoiding the Faceless Monks, and the next, some stranger shows up and offers to whisk us away.”
“It could just be a coincidence?”
“It could be… a strange one though.”
“He didn’t seem like a bad person.”
“I know. Let’s just be careful, okay?”
Ash’s stomach rolled, and for the first time he was glad he hadn’t ate breakfast because he doubted he would have been able to keep it down.
Rae squeezed his hand. “We’ll be okay.”
6
Ash’s heart fluttered in his chest as he gripped the ragged sack that contained all of his and Rae’s belongings. He swallowed, mouth dry, and peered out the window for any glimpse of the merchant through the swamp mist. Excitement bubbled inside, mixed with fear that Simian would never come, that it was all some kind of dream and he’d be trapped in Wichden forever.
Rae gripped his free hand and squeezed. “He’ll be here.”
“He better be. That man owes me ten Marks,” their mother said, scowling. She snatched the front of both of their shirts and tugged them in close so that her sour breath wafted over their faces. “You two keep your mouths shut about what you are. I don’t want to see your ugly faces again, so don’t you dare give that man any reason to come back.”
They nodded.
Footsteps sounded on the bridge outside. Their mother shoved them back and stood, patting down the front of her dress. The ladder creaked, followed by a knock on their door. Their mother swung it open and beamed at Simian.
“Hello. So good to see you,” she said.
Simian took off his crumpled brown hat. “Likewise. Are you two ready to go?”
Ash and Rae nodded.
“Just a minute,” their father rose out of the shadows, tall and imposing. “What are you planning for my children?”
Simian stepped forward with his hand held out. “You must be the man of the house.”
Their mother cleared her throat. “No such thing in these parts, southerner.”
Simian glanced over his shoulder at her, eyes twinkling. “A figure of speech, I beg your pardon.”
“Answer the question,” their father said.
“They’ll help me in my store in Falconwall. It’s time I was getting back there and I don’t have the same energy I used to.”
“You hear disturbing stories sometimes. Of men who go off with children. It seems a bit strange that you came all the way here just to hire some help…”
Simian’s smile faded. “I assure you. I won’t harm them.”
“Yes. Yes,” their mother said, squeezing between Simian and their father. “We know that. I’m sure you’ll want to be getting on.”
Simian put his hand into his pocket and drew forth a fistful of sparkling gold coins. “Five Marks each.”
Their mother snatched the coins from his hand and drew them to her chest. Her eyes glowed and it seemed as if she might drool. “Pleasure doing business,” she managed to mumble.
Their father barely glanced at the coins, his gaze caught on Ash and Rae and he drew them both to his chest in a tight hug. “Come back if you need to, there’ll always be a place for you here.”
Over his father’s shoulder Ash saw his mother’s expression, which very clearly said that was not the case.
“I love you both, you make me proud,” their father said, voice catching.
Ash was surprised to find a lump in his throat that made it impossible to speak. Instead, he squeezed his father tighter, imprinting the memory of his warm chest and strong arms.
“Oh get off them,” their mother said. “The poor man doesn’t want to be trapped here watching you snivel.”
Their father went t
o straighten, but Ash pulled him back. “Come with us. You don’t have to stay here with her.”
“I told you, son, I made a promise before Talon. That’s not something I can break.”
Ash bit his lip and glared down at his shoes. He didn’t think his father would last long with just his mother for company.
“Love you, Dad,” Rae said.
Their father stepped back and shadows shrouded his face.
“Go on, get out,” their mother said. She shoved Ash toward the door.
Ash swallowed and followed Rae and Simian down the ladder. He patted Mylk’s side and stepped onto the wooden walkway, it creaked beneath him.
“Remember what I said,” their mother called after them.
Ash searched the shadows of their house for his father’s eyes but couldn’t find them. He hoped his father understood everything that Ash hadn’t said out loud.
They followed Simian to the town center where his green wagon stood harnessed to a brown horse that pulled grass from the side of the road. Simian gestured to the wooden bench at the front of his wagon. “You two can sit up here with me.”
Ash hauled himself up into the seat, with Rae pushing from behind, and then turned to pull her up. They settled to the far left side of the seat, taking comfort from the other’s company. Ash looked out at the familiar buildings and his gut twinged. He gripped Rae’s hand. What were they thinking? They couldn’t go to Falconwall with some strange man.
“It’s okay,” Rae whispered. “We’ve still got each other.”
Ash nodded and forced his breathing to slow.
Simian jumped up beside them with practiced ease and took the reins. “Come on, Gillie.” He clicked his tongue and the horse heaved forward, dragging the wagon with it. A dirt road snaked out before them through the swamp, interspersed with bridges.
Ash turned and stared over his shoulder as swamp mist swallowed the familiar buildings of Wichden. The chatter of voices faded, replaced by the squeak of wagon wheels and the clop of Gillie’s hooves.
Ash shivered and wrapped his arms over his chest. Five hundred miles to Falconwall; five hundred miles with a complete stranger. His stomach clenched and he shifted in his seat as the awkward silence spread out around them.
Shadow of a Slave (The Blood Mage Chronicles Book 1) Page 3