ROMANA’S FREEDOM
M. P. A. Hanson
Romana’s Freedom
Copyright: M. P . A. Hanson
ASIN: B00P5FLF3G
Published: 3rd November 2014
The right of M. P. A. Hanson to be identified as author of this Work has been asserted by her in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in retrieval system, copied in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise transmitted without written permission from the publisher. You must not circulate this book in any format.
This book is dedicated to Bethany and Peter
Chapter One
THE FIGHT AHEAD
Romana let her head fall downwards as she waited on a stone bench in one of the rooms off the main courtyard that the fighters used to get ready in. In around three minutes the bell would ring, and two men would exit the arena that was always set up on fifth-days. One would be bloodied, and most likely close to unconsciousness. He would be the loser. The one still standing would be the one who would face her. She shrugged her blade cut copper brown hair out of her eyes, and looked at the patch of sand in front of her.
Fifteen years. That’s how long she’d been here. A tiny toddler, barely walking when she’d first arrived, now the best and only female fighter in the ring. She was now only one of over four hundred slaves, living in the Desert Slave Shop, or the waiting room, depending on who you heard the name from. The inmates called it that because you were always waiting to be bought or to die.
It wasn’t a prison. It may have had guards, but they were more friendly peacekeepers to everyone there. Sure there may be a wall, but it kept raiders out, not people in. They may be slaves, but they weren’t treated badly, nor was there much punishment for the well behaved and there was no rich man glowering over them all; the money from buyers went into importing food from the seaport two days away, and into new clothes. Or at least, that’s what they said.
She looked up and allowed her eyes to meet their reflection in the floor to ceiling mirror opposite her. Her eyes were silver. Not a shade of grey but pure silver bordering on unnatural. But for her people it was natural. She was an elf after all.
Although, like everyone else, she had to wonder why she was in the slave shop; elves usually looked after their own. They also kept to themselves, in their own lands, so why she was in the middle of the human kingdom the Ancients only knew.
She fingered the tips of her long pointed ears absentmindedly; dropping her hands as soon as she realised what she was doing. Instead she tried to focus more on the fight ahead. Not that she’d ever needed to. Fighting, like elvenstrength and elvensense came easily to her, it was her birthright in any case.
The bell rang.
She stood slowly, adjusting the light cotton of the fabric of her clothes. Beyond the curtain that was used as a door she could hear her name being chanted. She was the reigning champion at fighting, although she’d never used any of her advanced physiology to her advantage in the fights, thus she was greatly supported. That was the way it worked, if you were good, they liked you, if you lost, they booed you.
She took one deep breath, and walked outside.
The crowd was thick, but parted as she approached. Her name was shouted, over and over, in an endless chant. A few people called in encouragement for her opponent, but their cries were drowned by the majority. She stepped over the painted lines that marked a rough oval on the ground, and looked up to see the face of one of the younger slaves looking up at her.
He still was older than her by at least a year, brown hair clinging to his forehead from perspiration. But she didn’t get a chance to study him further as the whistle blew for them to begin, and she focused solely on the fight.
She struck first, getting a kick into his left side before he could dodge. But soon she was ducking and swerving herself as he quickly recovered and rained punches at her. But it was too easy, she thought as she shifted away from his incoming foot and there! She grabbed his foot at the same time she angled hers upwards, catching him in the stomach as she pulled down on the leg. He toppled, falling to the floor with a thump.
The bell rang again, and the crowd cheered.
She could have waved, or smiled at them. Instead she did what she always did; offered her hand out to help her opponent up, then stepped out of the ring, and walked away silently, even as the still cheering crowd swarmed her, patting her back joking at her.
No matter how silent or guarded she was. They never seemed to notice. They saw who they wanted to see, a champion who loved who she was. She’d become used to their ignorance a long time ago. Now she just wanted to get back to whatever menial task she’d been assigned on this weeks duty rota. Sweeping the lower corridors, she remembered as she walked from the courtyard, feeling relief at the end of the claustrophobic push of the crowded spectators.
But of course, somebody had other ideas. A gong sounded somewhere in the halls, and she stopped dead in her tracks. Somebody important was visiting. She groaned inwardly and turned around, now heading back the way she’d come towards the room she shared with her roommate.
During visits, a potential buyer was shown around by the Slave Master, while all slaves were told to keep out of the way in their rooms. Then, when the visitor had seen enough and described the slave required, the suitable slaves would be sent for and viewed in the courtyard. One to perhaps a dozen slaves were eventually selected by the buyer, who would then spend an hour in the Slave Master’s office, discussing prices and transport.
Romana reached her door with a sigh, pulling the curtain back just enough to slip through before she was rushed by her roommate.
“Romana, you’ll never guess who it is this time!” Katelyn informed her.
“Who?” She asked, uninterested as she walked over to her bunk and started changing out of the clothes she wore to fight.
“I was at the gate and I saw the whole thing, flags and all. The prince is here.”
“Uh-huh.” Romana replied, not believing a word out of the six-year-old’s mouth.
“It’s true!” Katelyn insisted, long angelic blonde hair swinging from side to side in her excitement. “Come on. Would I ever lie to you?”
“In a word? Yes.” Romana replied. “You must have told me that a noble is coming to visit every time that gong’s been rung since you came here four years ago.”
“It’s true!” The girl replied. “I saw him, you know, on his horse, with his guards all around and the fancy flag carrier people in front.” The girls brown eyes practically sparkled in excitement.
Romana reached into the draws and brought out a loose fitting pair of cotton trousers and a top of the same material. Nothing else was really practical in the desert.
“The only thing that really matters is how long we’re going to be stuck here.” She replied, sitting down on her bunk and picking up a book from the small pile she’d collected over the years.
“I don’t know how all those squiggles can keep you entertained.” Katelyn told her quietly.
Romana sighed. Like most slaves, Katelyn had never learned to read or write, Romana had been taught by the old Slave Master, Charles, as a young child, who had known that a young elf’s mind needed to be occupied or it would become bored easily.
“It’s like someone telling you a story,” she explained “Only this one is through the book.” It was the best way to describe a book to Katelyn, who spent most of her time in day dreams.
But Katelyn was already on the other side of the room playing with Marley, her dol
l. Romana sighed and went back to the book.
Chapter Two
THREE PIGEONS FLYING EAST
She was still reading four hours later, when her sensitive hearing heard the sound of pigeons being released from the top of the lookout tower. The tour was over. Now she could get back to the lower floor corridors. It was boring, she knew. But she’d given up hoping to be chosen years ago.
She listened harder, hearing wing beats heading mostly to the western side of the slave shop. But three pigeons were flying east, towards the women’s quarters.
“They’re coming in this direction.” She informed an expectant Katelyn, “Three of them.”
“How close are they?”
“It will take at least four more minutes to reach us.”
Katelyn rushed to the window, still excited by the prospect of being chosen. Some slaves were like that. But Romana knew the truth. Slaves had no rights, except those given to them by their masters. She’d seen slaves beaten as they left the slave shop for walking too slow, and if Katelyn were chosen by one of those types then Romana might just leave to go and get her out. She’d taught Katelyn how to spell her name, Romana’s name, and the name of the Slave Shop. If she was ever being hurt, all she had to do was send a message with her name to the Slave Shop and Romana would come get her.
It was what friends did.
And of all the people in the slave shop, Katelyn was the closest she’d come to a friend, since the last Slave Master passed away and her nurse, Georgiana had been sold away just days from each other.
“One of the pigeons has turned off from the original group; it’s headed towards Natalie and Elvinas’ room.” She informed a still waiting Katelyn, walking out to the window to see if she could see the pigeons.
“They’re flying from the direction of the sun.” Katelyn warned her. “It might hurt your eyes.”
“Thanks.” She replied. The girl was right. Her acute elven senses could be damaged by too much sensory input, for example extremely loud music or exceedingly bright light. Elves were mainly said to be nocturnal, although this had never been proven. She should know, but she’d been given to captivity before ever having the chance to know her race.
“Can you still hear them?” The little girl asked in a whisper.
“Yes. But another one has turned off into Sasha and Nina’s room.” She replied.
“They’re all the same age as you.” Katelyn whispered excitedly. “Maybe you’ll be next.”
She thought about it for a moment. Katelyn had gotten it right, they were all girls the same age as her, but she failed to find another common factor between all of them. There were plenty of others her age here besides those four. She brushed a finger over her slave band on her forearm; it had been there for fifteen years. Could it be possible that the serial numbered copper band might be replaced with the steel of an owned slave?
The pigeon changed course to their window.
She took a step back from the windowsill to give it room to land.
Katelyn squealed with delight, as her human eyes registered the bird just meters away, and backed off to hug Romana tightly.
“Pigeons always summon both roommates.” She said, happily.
And indeed, when the pigeon arrived, and Romana picked it up gently, cooing to it in elventongue to sooth it, the scroll had both their serial numbers written on it. Something like that was easy for all slaves to understand.
“Hurry Katelyn, you need to get dressed into something better than that.” She ordered; taking in the girls scruffy play clothes.
Katelyn rushed to obey, pulling on a skirt and top that made her look marginally older, and springing up next to her, waiting for her to lead the way. They didn’t go immediately, however, acting on instinct; Romana shrugged her hair forwards, so that to human eyes her pointed ears would not be noticed.
She smoothed down the girls hair and smiled as Katelyn grabbed her hand. The Slave Shop may have made her grow up somewhat, but it hadn’t succeeded in all areas.
They stepped out of their room, and walked quickly towards the courtyard. Sure enough, when they reached it there was a long iron platform set up and waiting for them, exactly where the fighting ring had been only hours before.
Romana lifted Katelyn up, and then jumped up. It was a metre high off the ground, but using elvenstrength it was nothing to her. She landed quietly in a crouch and straightened.
They quickly walked onto two of the slightly raised viewing spaces, choosing two next to each other and in the middle of the line. A few of the others had already arrived, and she nodded hellos to those she knew.
Mostly there were men of around twenty. But there were some girls Romana’s age, and even more worryingly, Katelyn was the youngest there.
Soon they were all assembled, and as the guards announced the coming of the Slave Master and his guest, Katelyn ran from her platform and briefly hugged her, as the little girl turned away, Romana tugged her back, returning the hug, before pushing her away as one of the guards began to look like he wanted to intervene.
Then she noticed that both the Slave Master and his guest had appeared in the doorway.
The Slave Master was nattering away, a nervous habit, which meant that the guest, who appeared to be paying no attention to the Slave Master at all, must actually be someone important. She looked at the guest and then looked again.
He was about the same age as the men already lined up for his inspection. His clothes were impeccable, and expensive, fitting his tall leanly muscular figure perfectly, she noted, using her elvensight, his hair was mid length, and an uncommon black-brown shade, it came forwards to his eyebrows, which were the same colour, meaning that the colour was completely natural; there was a hardness to his jaw that was again, uncommon in humans. She let her gaze linger on his mouth for a moment, before looking up into his blue-as-the-ocean eyes, only to see them staring straight at her. She stared back, defiantly. She’d always been stubborn, and the way the man seemed to expect she lower her eyes or do a little curtsey like everyone else, made her mind scream defiance.
The visitor’s blue eyes lingered on her for a moment, before darting to her right, where Katelyn was standing, head bowed in his presence.
He’d seen the little girl hugging her, she thought, making sure her ears were still covered enough for human eyes.
The Slave Master and his guest walked to the left end of the platform, and ascended the steps there, stopping before each slave, as the Slave Master read out their name, age and race, and gave the visitor time to ask them questions. Through it all, the visitor kept looking at her. It was an ambiguous look that made her uncomfortable, usually she could read human’s emotions like a book. This one either had none, or was very good at hiding them. Probably the later, she thought, if he was a noble he would have needed to learn to hide them to stay safe in the vipers nest of the courts.
They reached Nina on her left, and she was surprised at the warmth in the visitor’s voice, even though his face screamed cold, he seemed to have honed his voice into a weapon, using it to calm or cut without a seconds notice.
Nina curtseyed as they finished asking her questions and soon the visitor was directly in front of her.
“And this is Romana, she has no last name.” The Slave Master introduced her “She’s eighteen, and the best ring fighter here, your highness, she’s also—”
“Elven.” The visitor inserted.
Romana simply looked at him impassively. So he was a prince, or at least, the Slave Master had addressed him as royalty. But he was still only human, as an elf, she had no reason to bow to him, or any other human.
“Yes your highness, the only elf here.”
“Why is she here?”
“Her file says nothing other than she was left here fifteen years ago.” The Slave Master replied quietly.
“Is she literate?”
“In both elvish and human, your highness, she can ride also.”
The prince nodded, inclined his head
slightly to her in a gesture of respect, which she returned automatically in her surprise, before moving on to Katelyn.
“This is Katelyn Marshall; she’s six years old, human, like most of the others, and partially literate, in human tongue.” The Slave Master replied.
Romana almost snorted; partially literate was stretching it a bit. Two names and an address weren’t really that much.
“Any relation to the previous girl?” The prince asked.
“Roommates for the last four years, that’s all, your highness.”
They moved through the remaining slaves fairly quickly after that, and dismounted the platform, moving off to one side. Romana listened in, using her sharpened hearing, concern for Katelyn overriding common courtesy.
“You said you would be purchasing two slaves, highness. Have you come to a decision?”
“The elven girl,” The prince replied, glancing up at her as he said it. He knew, she thought, he knew she could hear him. “And I would also take the human Oliver, the one who rides.”
“Both of them are wonderful choices, your highness.”
“I wish to make another additional purchase.” The prince added, “The human girl, Katelyn Marshall.”
“Are you sure you wish to purchase the elf, your highness? She’s a bit, how may I put it, unruly, when she doesn’t like someone, and if I may say, she’s worse around Katelyn.”
“I am sure.” The prince replied, a hint of steel in his voice, which encouraged no argument.
“Wonderful, your highness.”
“I will take them with me today, and you will be paid seven hundred gold pieces and eight silvers for all three.”
“That is most generous of your highness.”
Romana snorted, the prince had paid at least ten times the amount any other buyers had paid for half a dozen slaves. He wasn’t being generous; he was being generous in the extreme. However, everyone there knew that the Slave Master had been hoping to sell her for far more than that.
Romana's Freedom (Soul Merge Saga Book 1) Page 1