Barvil shook his head slowly. "Remember what the princess told you about a stratified society? Those people are the lowest of the low. They either can't or won't work. Several of those children were probably orphans who were turned out into the streets rather than turned over to a Crown Orphanage as the law requires." Barvil paused to make sure he had Stavin's attention before continuing. "No society can be everything for everyone. This society thrives because it does the best it can for the most people it can."
Stavin mumbled, "Yes, Sir," as he stared at his horse's ears. They caught up with the caravan and took their places, but Stavin kept looking at the people who watched them pass, wondering how many of them were poor.
Trader Sahren led them into a small village several days later and stopped to trade. The warriors assumed their normal guard patrols, but Stavin couldn't stop watching the crowds, trying to spot poor children. He had transferred all of his sparks into a small purse that he kept on his belt. When his watch ended he continued to circle the area, handing out sparks to the children who didn't run away.
Other people were watching Stavin. "He shouldn't be doing that," Sahren said to Barvil without taking her eyes off Stavin.
"I know, but this is the first time he's seen poverty," Barvil replied without looking away from Stavin. "He doesn't understand that it's not that easy to make it go away."
"I meant that he shouldn't be encouraging those children to think they can get a handout from a caravan. Most caravans are safe, but some--No one cares what happens to street children," she said in a sad tone, "and there is a market for children."
Barvil turned to face her. "Those men at the border. That's how they caught the children, isn't it?" At Sahren's nod, he turned and strode toward Stavin.
Stavin saw Barvil coming toward him with a grim expression on his face and wondered what he'd done wrong this time. He came to attention and said, "Sir, I was just-"
"I know, Stavin," Barvil said to stop him from saying anything else. "We have to talk." Stavin followed Barvil as he turned away and made their way back to their tents. "I know you want to help these people, Stavin, and especially the children, but what you are doing is dangerous."
"Sir, I'm not afraid of-" Stavin began, but Barvil interrupted him.
"Not to you, boy! To them. Stavin, the only protection those children have against men like those child-thieves we killed at the border is their fear. They must not think that it is safe to hold their hands out to a caravan. If they do, they run the chance of being grabbed."
Stavin had gone red-faced in anger when Barvil called him a boy, but now all of the color drained from his face. "I just wanted to help them," he whispered. "Make their lives a little better."
"And you did, but it won't last. Those sparks will buy them food for a day or two, but the next time they hold out their hand, they could be taken." Barvil grabbed both of Stavin's shoulders, and when Stavin looked up, he smiled. "Stavin, few of our people have ever come close to the wealth you possess, and I understand your desire to help. You'd do better by them to donate that money to the temple of the Nurturer. The priestesses of Lady Sahren give out food and clothing to the needy."
Stavin came to attention. "Sir, I'd like to-"
"Take Kar and Rolas with you," Barvil commanded.
Stavin bowed and turned away, walking quickly to find his friends. Rolas and Karvik were at the cook fire eating bread and drinking kava. "Kar, Rolas, I need you to come with me, please."
"Where?" Karvik asked.
"Why?" Rolas asked as well.
"I'm going to find the local temple of the Nurturer and make a donation," Stavin replied.
"Does Dad know?" Karvik asked.
"Why do you think you two are going with me?"
"I thought it was so it'd look like you were talking to us instead of yourself." Rolas laughed.
Stavin thought about smarting back, but decided not to. While he and Rolas hadn't really been friends, they had been in classes together until the Warmaster had held him back, and knew each other well. In addition, there was some truth to the jibe. There had been a time, not long after he had stopped growing, when the only person he'd had to talk to was himself, and he'd been caught at it a time or two.
Karvik interrupted by clouting him on the shoulder. "Ignore him, Stave. He's just jealous because when he talks to himself he can't get him to listen."
Stavin and Rolas both stared at Karvik for an instant before breaking out in loud laughter. "I yield! I yield!" Rolas said, holding up both hands.
Stavin just grinned and nodded, then led the way into town. He stopped a local man and asked, "Where is the Temple of the Nurturer?"
The man stared at the three warriors for a moment, then bowed and said, "Five streets the way you're going, and then left. The road leads out of town to the temple, good sirs." All three of the warriors bowed slightly, then marched side-by-side through the town.
The Temple of the Goddess Sahren, the Nurturer, was a very large stone and wood structure located north of the town. The soil in this area was rocky and poor for farming, but it had been plowed and planted anyway, and the crops were thriving. There were also pastures where sheep grazed under the watchful gaze of a few shepherds.
Someone must have seen them coming because the door opened before they could knock. An old woman dressed in the plain white homespun wool robe of a Temple Priestess smiled as she stepped out to greet them. "Peace to you, Warriors. We do not allow weapons in the temple."
Stavin took another step forward and bowed deeply. "Your pardon, Priestess. I wish to donate to your temple for the benefit of the poor."
The priestess nodded her head deeply. "Receive our thanks in return, for every spark will feed a family for a day," the priestess said, gesturing to a box mounted near the door.
Stavin stepped over to the box and opened his purse, then dumped it into his hand. "Five gold, six silver, and seven copper sparks," he said, then dropped the whole handful into the box.
"Five Gods Above, Six Ages of Man, and Seven Provinces of the Empire," the priestess said. "You know the old ways, young warrior. Not many remember them in these times."
Stavin bowed deeply. "It is our honor to remember the old ways, and my fortune to be able to complete the old ritual."
"You are a surprising young man, Friend Stavin," the priestess said, then smiled at his obvious surprise at her knowing who he was. "Oh, you are far too recognizable in that armor, Friend Stavin. That's one reason why I came to greet you myself."
"Who are you, Ma'am?" Rolas asked, bowing again.
"I am Alhanis Zel'Kesten, Shepherdess of Lady Sahren's Flock in this portion of Evandia," she said with a smile.
Stavin took an involuntary step back and joined Karvik and Rolas as they bowed deeply. "I thought this was just a local temple," he said, wishing he didn't look so much like a child between the towering figures of his friends.
"It is, Friend Stavin, and it is not. We serve this area, but we are also the main temple for this province of Evandia. We have associate temples in most communities out to the northern and western borders." The Shepherdess smiled as the three young men shared a look between them.
Karvik asked, "How old is this temple, Lady?"
"As old as Evandia," the Shepherdess said, "or nearly so. This was supposed to be provincial capital, not Twin Bridges, but someone in Lux changed their mind after the temple was nearly completed. The Shepherdess at the time decided to keep this temple rather than move, thereby avoiding the temptations, and politics, of the capital."
Karvik was looking around at the temple itself rather than at its keeper. "This is a huge temple. There must be hundreds of priestesses here," he said as he turned back to face the Shepherdess.
"Just ten, young warrior," she replied with a smile.
"But how-" Karvik began, but the Shepherdess raised her hand to stop him.
"The poor. Those who can work tend our fields and flocks. Much of this temple, especially the dormitories, was built b
y the poor we aid." She smiled at Karvik's puzzled frown. "We encourage those who come to us to get back on their own feet, or to grow up in the case of children. That is the way of the Nurturer."
Stavin bowed deeply and said, "We of Kel'Kavin bow to the Old Gods, but your Lady is known to us and honored. I wish peace and a fruitful future to you and all those who follow your Lady."
"Go with the Lady's Blessing, Friend Stavin, and continue to follow your heart. It seems to be a good guide." With that she turned and went back into her temple and the three warriors turned away as well.
"My mother is going to be so excited when I tell her about this," Rolas said as they walked away.
"Why?" Karvik asked.
"She honors Lady Sahren, and travels to the temple in Aravad every five years to make an offering. If I didn't already have plans for every spark, I would have brought my purse and made a donation as well."
"We're going back to Aravad, Rollie. You can donate there," Stavin pointed out.
"I have plans for everything I've collected so far, Stave," Rolas answered.
"What plans?" Karvik asked, but Rolas just smiled and held his peace all the way back to the caravan.
* * *
The caravan moved on the next day, and reached Barren's Bridge eight days later. Stavin looked around and sighed as he let his mind wander back a year. So much had changed since he had first lain eyes on this city, and not all of it had been for the good.
Trader Sahren once again circled her wagons for trade and the warriors began their patrols. The warriors all watched the caravan carefully, but they were not the only ones.
Chapter 16
AHRAN FEL'HADAR WATCHED THE CARAVAN WITH angry eyes. He had lost a lot of money when Sahren had refused to turn over Madam Elain's consignment, and more when the warriors she'd hired had killed all of his men. Even the wagon had been taken and not recovered. Then Elain's agents had come to him in the winter and expressed her displeasure.
He rubbed the stump of his right index finger and remembered the pain when Elain's enforcers had burnt it off his hand. They had burned Elain's tattoo off his chest with hot irons as well, and branded his cheeks with glyphs that proclaimed him a liar and a cheat. Only a few men followed his commands anymore, but they should be enough to exact his revenge against the Kavadian slut and her people.
* * *
Sharvit and Orkahn were on watch with Aldric and Tavan late in the night when flaming arrows arched through the sky and landed on the roofs of the wagons. All four young men yelled "Fire!" and ran to grab buckets of water to combat the flames. Then a burning arrow hit Sharvit in the shoulder, and he fell to the ground screaming.
The traders reacted to the alarm and boiled out of their wagons like angry ants, fighting the fires with buckets of water. All of the other warriors joined in as well, and soon everyone was fighting the fires as more arrows fell.
Stavin noticed that one arrow continued to burn even after he had thrown a full bucket of water on it. He pulled the arrow out of the wagon's side and threw it to the ground, then put out the remaining fire on the wagon. He quickly realized what he had to do and started climbing the wagon's side to reach the roof. He pulled the flaming arrows out and threw them to the ground, then raced to reach the next wagon while the traders doused the flames.
Stavin was climbing a wagon to rip another flaming arrow free when a tremendous blow to the back knocked him flat on the roof. He'd been sleeping in his mail, as always, but hadn't paused to put on his plate before joining the fight against the fires. He gasped for breath and felt a stabbing pain in his back when he breathed. He rolled over and felt something catch on the roof, then rolled a little more and heard a snap, like an arrow breaking. Pain blocked his vision for a moment, then eased as he rolled back onto his stomach.
Every time Stavin moved, he felt like he was going to scream. He managed to turn his head enough to see that two wagons were burning and the figures of the traders and warriors were still fighting the flames, when suddenly the entire area went dark.
Stavin was momentarily terrified by the thought that he'd gone blind, but then lights began to appear, and the sound of people shouting in the distance reached his ears.
"What's going on here?" a man's voice shouted. "Who let their fires get out of control?"
"No fires got out of control!" Barvil's voice shouted back. "We were attacked with fire arrows."
"Search the area! Find whoever did this!" the man's voice shouted, and there was the sound of many running feet as people hurried to obey the order.
Barvil shouted, "Is everyone all right?" as the caravan settled down.
"Light some torches," another voice shouted from the other side of the caravan.
Stavin was inching toward the end of the wagon over the seat, moving, then pausing for the pain to fade, then moving again. He heard people below him, but couldn't cry out for help. It hurt too much to breathe.
"Who is the master of this caravan?" the voice of the man who had been giving orders demanded.
"Sahren Kel'Vandar, of the Kavadian House of Zel'Vandar," Barvil replied.
"Where is she?"
"Sahren! Where's Sahren?" Barvil shouted, but received no answer. The babble of many voices asking the same question rose, then was silenced by a scream of grief and horror. Stavin closed his eyes and wished that he could close his ears as well as the scream went on and on, repeating the word 'No!' over and over again.
Stavin redoubled his efforts and reached the end of the wagon, but no one was there. He laid still and fought not to cry from the pain in his back and the more intense pain at the thought of losing Sahren. No! Not Sahren!
It was some time later that he heard his own name being called, and he tried to draw attention to himself by waving his hand over the end of the wagon. He finally heard someone shout, "There he is," and relaxed as the wagon rocked when someone climbed onto it.
Karvik was the first to reach him and asked, "Are you all right?"
Stavin tried not to move as he whispered, "No."
"What happened? Where are you hurt?" Karvik asked as he climbed up beside him.
"My back," Stavin managed to hiss through gritted teeth.
Karvik knelt beside him and carefully searched his back with both hands. "Here it is," he said, and Stavin felt something tug at his mail. "You got shot in the back with a fire-arrow. Good thing you had your mail on. Too bad you didn't have your back plate. Can you move?"
Stavin tried to move, but the pain was too intense and he almost fainted. "No. It hurts to breathe."
"Broken ribs at least," Marvat said from the right side of Stavin's head. "We have to be careful how we move him."
"Slow and gentle," Farval said from his other side, and Stavin felt strong hands grab his shoulders. His vision dimmed as agony dragged him close to oblivion while his friends dragged his body off the wagon. After what seemed like an eternity, he was laid out on the ground and Farval asked, "Did you stay conscious through all of that?"
Stavin whispered, "Yes."
"Too bad. It would have been easier on you if you'd fainted."
Barvil led a well-dressed man to where Stavin was laying and asked, "How bad?"
"He took a fire arrow in the back, Sir," Marvat answered, "but his mail kept him from burning. He's got at least one broken rib, maybe more."
"We need a Healer. Two or three would be better," Barvil said as he turned to the man.
"Doesn't your caravan have a Healer of their own?" the man asked.
Barvil turned and looked at one of the burned wagons and whispered, "We did."
The man followed Barvil's gaze and quickly walked away. Barvil knelt beside Stavin and said, "I'm not going to lecture you about your armor again, Stavin. I don't think I need to. Kar, stay with him and watch for blood at his lips. He may have a punctured lung. The rest of you, armor up and begin patrols. Whoever did this may not be finished."
Stavin was aware of Karvik sitting beside him, but his attention was fo
cused farther away. All around him he could hear the sound of weeping, angry shouting, and overlaying all of it was a deep sense of loss.
"Who else?" he asked.
"What? Did you say something, Stave?" Karvik asked.
"Who else got hurt?" Stavin managed to ask in a stronger voice.
"Sharvit got an arrow through the shoulder. He's burnt pretty badly in addition to the arrow wound. Tavan got hit in the thigh, but pulled the arrow out before it burned him." Karvik paused before continuing. "Sahren got hit by three arrows. They were after her specifically. Angeleese and Damlan never made it out of their wagon. I saw five more bodies, but I couldn't tell who they were."
Stavin closed his eyes tightly against the pain of loss, afraid he would start crying and aggravate his injury. "I was sure we were safe here," he whispered.
"We all thought we were safe," Karvik replied. "Dad thinks it was that thief from last season. Elain did something to punish him and Sahren didn't think she needed to worry about him anymore, but Dad is convinced it was him."
The sound of many voices approaching from the city drew their attention and they looked between the wagons to see men in the uniform of the city guard coming toward them as well as several carriages with dozens of men and women in regular clothes following behind them. Everyone stopped as the guards surrounded the area, and elegantly dressed men and women climbed down from the carriages.
Barvil led Lord Zel'Elindar, Lord Mayor of Barren's Bridge, and eight other richly dressed men and women to where Stavin was laying face down in the dirt and bowed. "Here is Friend Stavin, Lord Zel'Elindar," Barvil said, indicating Stavin's golden mail.
Lord Zel'Elindar nodded and raised his hand to shoulder level. "See to Friend Stavin, Valin. The rest of us will be investigating this incident."
"With respect, Lord Zel'Elindar, many others are wounded as well," Barvil said as he stared into the lord's eyes.
Lord Zel'Elindar froze for an instant as he faced Barvil, then looked away. "After you've seen to Friend Stavin, tend to the others as well."
Traders and Traitors (Stavin DragonBlessed Book 2) Page 12