He caught Simiona glancing over at him, and he smiled at her. She grinned back. She was unshackled, of course, except for the delicate silver chain around her neck, and she looked as excited as he felt to be getting out into the open air.
Killop had mentioned to Laodoc his desire for a glimpse of the sky and sun, and the old man had come good, selecting him for this trip up the high mountain valley to the councillor’s estate. He was in store for some heavy work. The large country house in the middle of the estate had been unoccupied for some time, and was apparently in dire need of some repairs. Laodoc had told stories of the happy times he had spent there in the past, when his boys had been younger, and he had still been married to Stoelica.
Simiona was sitting on a large trunk, listening while Laodoc pointed out some of the sights below.
‘Master,’ Beoloth called out, from where he was standing by the front window of the carriage. ‘We’re almost at Slateford Estate. The pilots will be landing us in a few minutes.’
‘Everybody hold on,’ Laodoc said, as he pulled a belt around his waist. Killop turned to the little window by his side, and watched as the land hurtled towards them. He felt a pulling motion in his stomach, and closed his eyes just as the earth rose up, and the craft bumped down, skidding to a gentle halt after a few metres.
The hinged side doors were unlocked, and they swung down to create a ramp onto the grass. A guard unlocked Killop’s chains from the iron ring, and pointed over to the stacked crates and trunks.
Killop nodded, and began ferrying the cargo out of the carriage, while the guards sat about, and Laodoc and Simiona continued their conversation on the grass. The pilots set their beasts loose so they could stretch their wings for a while, and watched from atop the roof as Killop worked.
There were patches of snow in the shady corners of the grove where they had landed. The sky was overcast, and another fall looked likely. The chill breeze on Killop’s face felt serene, and he could smell the soil, the grass, and the trees. It was almost like being at home.
The pilots recalled their beasts as Killop shifted the last of the luggage onto the open ground in front of the carriage.
Simiona offered him a flask of water. He wiped the sweat from his face and drank.
She smirked. ‘I feel just awful that you did all the work.’
He looked around at the dozen or so heavy crates and trunks.
‘I’ll let you carry them to the house,’ he snorted, ‘if it’ll make you feel any better.’
‘I’d love to,’ she said, ‘only Beoloth’s gone to fetch a wagon.’
‘Well, you can help me load.’
Laodoc strode over, a long overcoat shielding him from the sharp wind.
‘Come, Simi,’ he said. ‘Let’s walk to the house. I’m sure Killop won’t mind waiting for the wagon.’
‘Yes, master,’ she smiled, cocking an eye at the Kell slave.
He scowled back, making her laugh as she and Laodoc strolled off along the path through the glade.
As they disappeared from view, Killop heard the pilots call from the roof of the carriage, and he saw that each of the beasts had been re-tethered to the vessel. Their wings beat in unison, and the carriage rose into the air. It circled overhead for a couple of turns, then sped off north-east, back to the Rahain capital.
Killop sat on a trunk. The four guards were crouching together over a small fire they had built, struggling to light it, the sharp wind blowing out the matches they were using. He knew he could simply walk over and spark it up for them, use the mage skills he had possessed since his teenage years. He smiled at the thought that he would ever betray the secret of his powers to the Rahain. From everything he had witnessed and heard, it was clear they remained in complete ignorance of the power of a fire mage’s twin, and he wasn’t about to enlighten them.
It was a long day for Killop, the hardest physical labour that he had undertaken in some time. He felt muscles he hadn’t used in thirds ache at the effort of loading and unloading, then carrying, all of the luggage for Laodoc’s stay. He had blisters from the shackles on his wrists and ankles, but still felt satisfied when he had finished, once the last crate had been stowed away in a small cottage close to the country house.
The large mansion was almost derelict, as far as Killop could see. It looked like it hadn’t seen use in at least two decades. Its windows were broken, and boarded up, and ivy had been allowed to grow wild, and completely covered the western side of the mansion. The roof was missing slates, and the nests of birds flown north for the winter hung from the eaves.
‘The old house is not quite how I remembered it,’ Laodoc said, joining him outside the cottage. It was getting dark already, a gloomy winter’s afternoon. The heavy clouds clustered overhead, and the first flakes were starting to fall.
‘Going to need a lot of work,’ Killop said.
‘Indeed,’ Laodoc said. ‘I’ll have to bring a team of workers up here for a couple of thirds, at least. I think now this visit shall be more of a survey, rather than a patch-up job. Let’s see exactly how much needs done, and then I can decide what’s what. In the interim, we shall be lodging here, in the cottage. It’s rather small, but it will only be myself, Simiona and you who’ll be staying.’
‘Where are the guards going to sleep?’
‘I’ve sent Beoloth and the guards away on the wagon to the nearest village,’ Laodoc said, looking up at the sky as the snow began to get thicker. ‘I can’t have them sleeping rough in weather like this, and there’s no room for them in the cottage. I gave them a modest purse of ahanes, and told them to go and enjoy themselves for the night.’
Killop frowned. What was the old man up to?
‘Come inside,’ Laodoc said. ‘Simiona is preparing some dinner for us.’
Killop followed the old man into the cottage. The room where he had carried most of the luggage was on the left, while down the hall were three bedrooms and a bathroom. To the right was the main living space, a long room, with a kitchen at one end, and comfortable chairs by a fireplace at the other.
Simiona was busy setting plates onto the dining table in the centre of the room, while pots and pans bubbled on the stoves behind her. A crate had been opened, and ransacked for supplies. As well as food, Killop noticed that a plentiful amount of wine and brandy had also been unpacked.
‘Before we eat…’ Laodoc began, then paused. Killop turned to face him, and saw that the old man was holding up a key in his hand. ‘I trust Simiona,’ he said, ‘and she wears no shackles.’
Laodoc hesitated, as if having second thoughts.
Killop remained standing, watching the old man.
‘No,’ Laodoc said. ‘I told myself I would do this, and I shall.’
He stepped forward, and unlocked the chains on Killop’s wrists. They fell heavily onto the thick rug covering the polished floorboards. Laodoc handed Killop the key.
‘Unlock your ankles,’ he said.
Killop nodded, bending over to release the shackles at his feet. He noticed that Simiona was watching from the dining table, her eyes wide.
‘I do not think you will try to escape,’ Laodoc said. ‘I do not believe you would abandon Kallie and Bridget, but I would like to hear you say it.’
Killop freed his ankles, and picked up the pile of chains. How easy it would be to push the old Rahain aside, load up with supplies, and disappear into the frozen mountain ranges, where they would never find him. He had survived in far colder temperatures than that, and he could hunt, and fish in the small streams. But without Kallie and Bridget, what would be the point? And what would happen to them if he fled?
‘I will not escape.’
Laodoc smiled. ‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘Now put those chains away, then go and take a bath, hot water has been drawn for you. Dinner will be ready in twenty minutes.’
‘The Patriots have gone a little mad,’ Laodoc said, as he poured himself a third brandy. ‘That’s the only logical explanation.’
Kill
op pushed his empty plate to the side, feeling pleasantly full, and picked up his wineglass.
‘Thanks for dinner, Simi,’ he said.
‘You can make it tomorrow evening,’ she smiled, then turned to Laodoc. ‘How many soldiers are they going to ask for?’
‘Ruellap tells me that they wish to requisition another sixty thousand servile troops,’ Laodoc sighed, shaking his head. ‘On top of the additional twenty thousand that we recently voted to send to Kellach Brigdomin. They’ll have to strip the farms and factories of workers to meet that quota. It’ll be worse than what it was like during the Kellach campaign.’
‘Sorry to have caused you so many difficulties,’ Killop said, raising an eyebrow at the old man. He didn’t dislike Laodoc, but there was such a gulf of understanding between them that he wasn’t sure they would ever see eye to eye, even if he wasn’t a slave.
‘But,’ Killop went on, before Laodoc could respond, ‘surely there’s an easier way? Why don’t you send diplomats to these Rakanese, and ask them what they want? If your reports are right, and they have no army, then what threat can they be to you?’
‘I agree with you, Killop,’ Laodoc said. ‘That is roughly what I advised the Liberal Party to say, but they are scared of the reaction from the peasants if they appear to be too soft on these foreign invaders.’
‘Invaders?’ Killop snorted. ‘Hardly.’
‘That is what the lower classes believe,’ Laodoc shrugged, sipping his brandy at the same time. ‘They are fearful that the Rakanese, who breed like flies so it’s told, will settle, and then spread everywhere over the whole of Rahain like an infection. The peasants are repulsed by the Rakanese, and hold them in the highest contempt. You should hear some of the names they are being called.’
‘Frogs and toads are among the more polite ones,’ Simiona said.
‘So what are the Liberals going to do, then?’ Killop asked. ‘Abstain?’
‘That’s the most likely outcome, I’m afraid,’ Laodoc replied.
‘Cowards,’ Killop muttered. ‘Some of these Liberals seem to know in their hearts what the right thing is, but they seldom do it.’
‘All is not yet lost,’ Laodoc said. ‘If I can work on the Merchants, I may be able to persuade them to vote for my proposal, and if they do, then the Liberals will sniff an opportunity to defeat the war coalition. I’m sure they would fall into line.’
‘The Merchants?’ Killop asked, then nodded. ‘You’re right. Those greedy bastards couldn’t care less about the rubbish the Patriots say, about how it’s the destiny of the Rahain to rule the world. They only care about making a profit, and if you can convince them that there’s money to be made out of the Rakanese…’
‘Exactly,’ Laodoc said. ‘Their eyes will water at the thought of picking up some of the contracts that could be on offer if we take a more friendly approach. Trade, cheap labour, a building boom.’
Killop nodded. The old man wasn’t all bad, he thought. At least he tried.
‘So what are the Patriots proposing to do with sixty thousand troops?’ said Simiona. ‘If they get them?’
‘Blockade the eastern entrance to Tahrana Valley,’ Laodoc replied. ‘Prevent the Rakanese getting near the city entrances, or the tunnel being built through the Grey Mountains. I think that’s as far as the plan goes. I haven’t seen the proposal myself, and I spoke with my son for only a moment.’
‘I think the Rahain will attack,’ Killop said. ‘Kill the fighters, and enslave the rest.’
‘Right now, I think the senate just wants them to leave,’ Laodoc said, ‘and go somewhere far away. But if they’re still here by spring, then I fear you may be correct.’
Simiona leaned over the table, her wineglass held precariously in her left hand. She was looking a little drunk, Killop thought. He glanced at his full glass of wine. He was wary of drinking in Laodoc’s company, unwilling to put himself into a position where he would say or do something stupid or reckless. He picked up his drink. He should relax, it was only the three of them present. The guards were far away, and would stay away, if the blizzard raging outside made the roads impassable for a few days. He drank the wine, emptying the glass. So sour, he grimaced.
‘It’s funny,’ Simiona smirked. ‘A councillor taking advice on politics from a barbarian slave.’
Laodoc’s face darkened. He rose to his feet and clenched his fists, and looked for a moment like he was going to strike her. Killop tensed.
‘I’m sorry, master,’ Simiona cried out. ‘It was just a stupid remark! I shouldn’t be drinking.’
Laodoc stared at her, furious. Killop coughed, and the old man turned his glare onto him.
‘You wouldn’t be angry,’ Killop said, holding his stare, ‘if we weren’t slaves. This is how slavery poisons everything. It kills friendship, throttles love.’
Laodoc blinked at him, and his tongue flickered as he stood speechless for a moment.
The old man sat, relaxed, and picked up his brandy glass, finding it empty. ‘Simiona, I apologise. You are correct of course, I do value his opinion.’ He poured himself another drink. ‘Slavery,’ he sighed.
Killop and Simiona remained quiet, waiting for him to continue, but the old man sat in silence, sipping his brandy.
After a moment, Laodoc stood again.
‘If you two will excuse me,’ he said, making his way unsteadily to the door. ‘I require a short visit to the bathroom.’
Once he had left, Simiona got to her feet. ‘Help me clear the dishes away,’ she said.
Killop carried the plates and cutlery over to the sink, as Simiona put the kettle on the stove to make tea.
‘I am such an idiot,’ she muttered. ‘I should never have said that to him.’
Killop chuckled.
‘It’s all right for you,’ she snapped at him. ‘He never gets angry with you. With me it’s all happy, call me Laodoc one minute, then shut up you slave the next.’
‘I’m sorry,’ he said, still smiling, as he filled the sink with hot water. ‘You’re right. It’s the same with Geolaid as well. Sometimes they don’t take you seriously. But with me, well it probably helps being a lot bigger than them.’
‘And being a man.’
‘Do you think that makes a difference?’ he said. ‘The Rahain don’t seem to bother about that.’
‘No?’ she said, placing cups onto a tea tray. ‘I saw the way Geolaid looked at me the first time she saw me. The same way they all do. They think I’m only favoured by Laodoc because I must be sleeping with him.’
Killop looked over his shoulder as he washed the dishes. ‘So, he’s never tried…?’
‘Never,’ she said. ‘I admit, when he first bought me, I suspected much the same. After all, that was what I was used to back then. That’s why I have to watch what I say when I’m around him. I sometimes forget how lucky I am. I take it for granted.’
They walked to the fireplace at the far end of the room, where Simiona set the tray down onto a little table. There were comfortable looking armchairs arranged in a half circle, and Killop moved them closer to the hearth, then began to tend the fire, feeding in some of the wood that had been piled next to it.
He heard Laodoc come back into the room. The old man stopped by the dining table to collect the bottle of brandy and some glasses.
He staggered over to the fire and sat in the nearest chair, as Simiona poured the hot tea.
‘Lots of sugar, if you please, Simi,’ he smiled.
‘Yes, master,’ she said. ‘Killop, do you want some?’
‘No thanks,’ he replied. ‘If I want my tongue burnt, I’ll stick it in the fire.’
Laodoc laughed. ‘Exactly what I used to think, my boy.’
My boy? Killop thought, keeping his face even. The old man was getting confused, forgetting the line between master and slave.
‘What I would do for an ale,’ Killop said instead, sitting in one of the chairs. Simiona handed him his refilled wineglass, and sat between him and Laodoc, th
e fire now roaring warmly.
‘Simi mentioned that you had a sister,’ Laodoc said.
‘Yes.’
‘Do you know if she lives?’ the old Rahain said, looking melancholy.
‘How could I?’ Killop said. ‘She was alive when I was captured, but I’ve not seen her since.’
Laodoc nodded.
‘Simi,’ Killop said. ‘What about you? You’ve never spoken of any family.’
She glanced away, while Laodoc flushed.
‘What is it?’ Killop asked. ‘Did I say something wrong?’
There was a long, uncomfortable silence, broken by Laodoc.
‘You can tell him.’
Simiona raised her head, but remained silent, her eyes unsure.
‘Go on,’ the old man said.
‘In Rahain,’ she said, ‘slave children are not brought up by their families. It doesn’t matter if their parents were slaves, or if a peasant family is selling one of their unwanted babies. The child is taken away and raised with other slaves. I remember living in a big house, in the cellar, with dozens of other children.’ She went quiet, paling at the memory.
‘What was it like?’ Killop said.
‘Please, Killop,’ she said, tears forming in her eyes. ‘I don’t want to talk about it.’
He sat back, his heart breaking for her. He glanced over at Laodoc, and saw the old man cringing with shame.
‘And what do you think of this… system?’ Killop asked him, as Simiona wept.
Laodoc glowered. ‘I don’t think that you are in any position to lecture me on my culture’s traditions.’
‘I wasn’t lecturing you,’ Killop said. ‘Just asking a question. Interesting that you called it a tradition. Isn’t that the word used to justify doing something that otherwise makes no rational sense?’
The Magelands Box Set Page 21