The Dead Falcon (The Eastern Slave Series Book 4)

by Victor Poole

  "The Thief Lord lives here?" Fashel asked, in a small voice. Her eyes travelled up to the front of the dragon temple, and Ajalia knew that the young woman was thinking of the large white house where Simon and his wife had lived.

  "I don't know if he will live here all the time," Ajalia said, "but he will be in and out of the house often enough to cook for. Will you work for me?"

  Fashel looked as though she had been dropped into another world.

  "Um," the young lady said. She looked at Isacar, who, it seemed, had lost himself entirely in his desire to stand discreetly behind Ajalia, and make no distracting noise or movement, stared out at the night. "I don't want to cause problems," Fashel said softly, looking embarrassed, "but Isacar and I want to get married."

  "I know," Ajalia said, looking straight at the young woman. "There is plenty of room for you to take up residence in my temple," she said. "Were you planning on children? I have more boys," Ajalia added, "who can be set to work in the kitchen, when you are settled."

  Fashel looked stunned. Ajalia had thought that Isacar would have warned the young woman about what may come, when he had walked with her through the streets, but, Ajalia reflected, Isacar had not known her long.

  "Did Isacar tell you that I would want to hire you?" Ajalia asked. Fashel blushed, and glanced at her young man.

  "Yes," Fashel admitted, "but I did not believe him."

  "Isacar is necessary to me," Ajalia said. "You will not be my priority, but as long as you are reasonably competent, and you do not disrupt my servants, you can marry him and live in my house. I need a cook," Ajalia added, lifting the stone necklace, and looking down at it. "This is very pretty," she said. Fashel, who had been confused, and then stunned, now looked a little angry. She was holding the large pile of coins in her hands that Isacar had given her, and her nose was beginning to turn a little red.

  "Are you a bad woman?" Fashel asked suddenly. Isacar made a tutting noise, but Fashel, whose mouth turned into an impatient grimace at the noise, looked determinedly at Ajalia.

  "I'm not quite sure what you mean by bad," Ajalia said. "Can you elaborate?" Fashel's face turned a little darker in the moonlight, and Ajalia thought she could see the young woman holding her breath.

  "Why do you have such a large house, and so many servants?" Fashel asked. "It seems strange to me," she added in a rush, "and I want to know if you are honest."

  "Are you asking if I keep a brothel of some kind?" Ajalia asked, genuine amusement tugging at her cheeks.

  "No," Fashel said, frowning. "I don't know what that is. But you have a lot of boys, and you talk very freely of the Thief Lord."

  "A brothel is a house where women live who sell their bodies to anyone who comes by," Ajalia said. "They have places like that in many cities." Fashel looked shocked.

  "Do they have such places where you are from?" Fashel demanded, and she looked deeply disturbed.

  "No," Ajalia said, "but I have travelled to such cities, on my master's business."

  Fashel eyed Ajalia carefully.

  "So you do not sell boys?" Fashel asked guardedly. Isacar made a hushing noise, and Ajalia turned in time to see him quickly shaking his head at Fashel, telling her to stop.

  "I'm sorry," Isacar told Ajalia quickly. "She does not understand about you."

  "I understand well enough," Fashel said loudly, irritation at her betrothed growing hot in her eyes. "I don't know you," she told Ajalia. "And what you offer is too good to be true. I want to know why you are so generous, and so free with your things." Fashel's eyes moved quickly from the dragon temple to Isacar, and then to the long sack that lay on the steps near Ajalia. Ajalia had tucked the white stone and the dagger into her robes, when she had seen Isacar approach. She drew out the dagger now, and held it up.

  "Do you know what this is?" Ajalia asked Fashel. Fashel eyed the dagger, and shook her head.

  "No," Fashel said. Ajalia replaced the dagger. She had thought that if Fashel recognized the old dagger, it might lend a shortcut to the proceedings.

  "I would like to know," Ajalia said, "what you mean by selling boys." Fashel glanced at Isacar; she looked like she was sorry that she had brought it up at all.

  "To the witches," Fashel mumbled, her eyes hot.

  "Are there such houses?" Ajalia asked Isacar, turning to the young man. He told her there weren't. "But why would Fashel ask me if I kept boys in such a way?" Ajalia asked. "Are there such houses in Slavithe?" She thought of Leed, and of Daniel, whose white brand had been eaten away by his mother, or, perhaps, left unformed because of the midwife at his birth.

  "I am sorry I said anything," Fashel said, her face confused, and ashamed.

  "Will you work for me?" Ajalia asked the young woman. Fashel nodded miserably, and looked down at the coins in her hand. "Isacar," Ajalia said, and she sat down on the steps. Fashel stood, numb and silent, on the white stones that lay just before the dragon temple. She looked unutterably sad.

  "Yes?" Isacar said at once. He leaned close to Ajalia, and she looked up at him.

  "Why is Fashel upset?" Ajalia asked. Isacar's mouth turned down at the corners, and his eyebrows moved down as well.

  "She had a brother," Isacar said in a very low voice. "She does not know, but suspects that he was taken."

  "And sold?" Ajalia asked. Isacar nodded. "What was your brother's name?" Ajalia asked Fashel. Fashel looked up miserably at Ajalia. Ajalia saw that the young woman had unshed tears pooling in her eyes.

  "I've spoiled everything," Fashel told Isacar unhappily. "I'm very sorry for disturbing you," she said politely to Ajalia. The young woman stepped forward, and held out the large pile of coins. "May I take my necklace?" she asked meekly.

  "You're still hired, if you want to be," Ajalia told her. "What is your brother's name?"

  "We're sure he's dead," Isacar murmured to Ajalia; she waved a hand at him.

  "Stop," Ajalia told Isacar. "You aren't helping." Ajalia felt a little relieved at Isacar's clumsiness around Fashel; she had begun to feel as though the young man were too perfect to be real, and now that she saw him being a little dense about the sensitive feelings of his soon-to-be wife, he seemed more human to her. "I have learned," Ajalia said to Fashel, "that several boys from Talbos have been planted here, in the quarries, and in some households, perhaps. They are spies. Is there any likelihood," Ajalia asked, "that such could be the case with your brother?" Fashel watched Ajalia with interest.

  "I do not think that is possible," Fashel said, "but I don't know."

  "Do you have parents?" Ajalia asked. Fashel nodded, and Ajalia sighed, and reached below for the cords of light that were now becoming familiar to her hands. She took up a long, thick cord of blue, and looked deeply at Fashel. The girl, Ajalia saw, had been eaten at. Ajalia sent a tendril of the blue light into Fashel's core, and began to fill up the faded lights around her heart. A feeling of coursing power ran through Ajalia's hands as she did this; she imagined the power swirling like thick fire through Fashel, and making her insides strong, and robust.

  "I have a mother, and two older sisters," Fashel said. "My father is dead."

  "And it is your father's debt?" Ajalia asked. Fashel nodded.

  "They only needed to sell me," Fashel said. "I was the youngest. My sale paid off what was owed, and my sisters and mother are free."

  And they are witches, Ajalia told herself grimly, reaching below for an additional cord of light. She looked aside at Isacar; she saw that that young man had a curious bright shell of green all around his soul; he was intact, though he did not appear to have a white brand. Ajalia looked more closely, and she saw that he did have a white sheen of light, but that it was obscured beneath the hard-looking shell of green. Isacar has camouflaged himself from the witches, Ajalia told herself, and she thought to try this herself, when she had time.

  Fashel, under the influence of Ajalia's refreshing lights, had begun to look almost cheerful.

  "I am sorry if I have offended you," she told Ajalia. "It was wro
ng of me to ask such direct questions."

  "You were right to be suspicious," Ajalia said. She drew a length of power down from the sky, and began to wind it gently through Fashel's core. Isacar had not seemed to notice Ajalia's manipulation of the cords of light; the shell he had constructed to protect himself, Ajalia thought, must keep him from sensing the movement of power around him.

  "My brother was at home when I was sold to clear my father's debts," Fashel explained. "I only knew he was gone because I met my sister in the market, and asked her how he had been. She looked frightened, and then I asked questions. They did not want to tell me," Fashel said in a hard voice. "They pretended that he had been sick, but I think that they sold him."

  "Are boys often sold to the witches?" Ajalia asked the young woman. She knew what Ocher had told her about this, but she wanted to hear what Fashel would say to her. Fashel's eyes were gradually becoming clear, and her soul was brightening up well. Ajalia had not found any dark shadows, or slabs of inhabiting light. Ajalia realized that she had not yet encountered a female who was possessed in the way that Delmar, Ocher, and Rane had been. They each had carried a piece of the witch who had controlled them, but although Fashel's colors were faded and worn away, they appeared to all belong to her.

  "That's a rumor," Isacar said. "No one really sells any boys. No one knows who the witches are," he added. Ajalia thought that this was an awfully bold thing for Isacar to say, since he was the one who had informed her of Tree's secret arrangement with witches in the city.

  "I think there are such houses," Fashel said. She was glancing at Isacar, and she looked scared, but determined. "I don't know what they would have done with him, if they got him," Fashel added, and Ajalia knew that she meant the witches, "but it would not have been good."

  "What is your brother's name?" Ajalia asked again. Fashel looked at her distrustfully.

  "You can trust Ajalia," Isacar said. "She's with the Thief Lord." Ajalia saw that Fashel did not think much of this guarantee; she thought that the young woman would not have known much of how different Delmar was, to his father. Simon, Ajalia reflected, had been an awful man, and deserving of mistrust.

  "I often hear things," Ajalia said. "I am with Delmar, or with others in power in the city. If, in their dealings, they came across a boy, and I knew his name, I would be able to tell you what I learned." Fashel's face cleared, and she told Ajalia the boy's name.

  "He's only eleven last year," Fashel told Ajalia, frowning.

  "Where does your mother say that she has sent him?" Ajalia asked.

  "He's supposed to be working in the quarries, and set to a trade," Fashel said, "but I have a friend whose brother works there, and my brother is not with the other boys."

  "I will remember his name," Ajalia promised, and she looked to Isacar. "Go and pay the debt," she said, to Isacar, and then looked at Fashel. "Would you like to stay here, with me?" Ajalia asked again. Fashel's eyes, now that Ajalia had finished wrapping new lights all through her center, looked reasonable, and kind. Ajalia was sure that the young woman would prove to be a valuable addition to her household, as long as she was not an utter fool over food stuffs.

  "I will work for you," Fashel said. Her voice was calm, and friendly. "Thank you," she added politely, as Isacar jumped down the steps, and put an arm around her. The couple went quickly away, the money held close in Fashel's hands. Ajalia pictured the young woman meeting with her old owner, and explaining with bright eyes about the kitchen work, and the large temple. She was counting on the old woman whom Fashel served being impressed by the mention of the Thief Lord, and choosing to cooperate with the loss of her servant in the name of political expedience. Delmar, she knew, was nothing like his father, but Ajalia was painfully aware of the way that Simon and his wife had pilfered from the people, in the name of tradition, and she was almost sure that Fashel's owner would wish to err on the side of caution, before refusing to accept Fashel's payment of the debt, and subsequent release from obligatory service.

  Ajalia stretched, and felt the lumps of the falcon's dagger, and the large white piece of stone, flecked through with purple. Ajalia wanted to go up the stairs to bed; she thought of Delmar, and wondered where he was now. She remembered how she had felt, just the night before, in the darkness outside Simon's house, after Delmar had killed his father. Ajalia thought of the moment she had imagined running away to Talbos, and then to Saroyan, and she sighed, and wiggled her toes. Delmar, she thought, was worth everything that had happened in this city. Ajalia told herself that she would go back and do over many times everything that she had done to get Delmar freed from his parents' control. She bent down, and picked up the neck of the long bag.

  "Hi, you!" a voice shouted in the darkness. Ajalia stopped, her hand on the fabric, and turned slowly towards the street. She saw a dark figure, clothed in the garb of a guard, approaching swiftly. She waited, and her hands felt a little towards the hilt of her knife.

  The man came to the foot of the stairs, and stopped. She saw that he had been running for some time; he seemed to be gasping for air, but hiding it as well as he could. She had not met this guard before. He had gray stubble over his chin, and a pair of jovial wrinkles lay about his eyes. The guard looked stern now, but Ajalia could see that his face was accustomed to smiling, and laughing.

  "Are you Ajalia?" the guard asked. Ajalia thought that he looked ready to fall down; tiny streams of sweat were at his temples, and his hand was clasped hard around his weapon.

  "I am," Ajalia said cautiously. She had a sudden and lurid vision of Wall, come back in triumph at the head of four or five rebellious guards, and she stifled an irreverent smile. She could not make a believable picture of Wall as a true Thief Lord; he would do well, she thought, as a figurehead, or a puppet controlled by some greater power, but she could not see within the middle brother any potential for strong leadership, or much original thought.

  "The spies have sent for you," the guard told her, trying to hide the way his chest was heaving for air. "They've convened, and Rane is at their head, and they've asked for you to come, and negotiate on their behalf with the Thief Lord." The guard gave up on his dignity now that he had delivered the main brunt of his message; he bent down, his hands on his knees, and dragged in a heap of night air. "I couldn't find you at first," the guard explained, waving at her apologetically. "The boy thought you'd be out."

  "Cross?" Ajalia asked.

  "The little one with the sandy hair," the guard said. "He's been lurking behind the Thief Lord all night, looking dodgy. Said he was sent by you to watch over the Thief Lord."

  "Where did Cross think I'd be?" Ajalia asked, feeling slightly amused. The guard let out a great breath, and stood upright.

  "Said you'd have gone to meet with that Eastern slave that's come in tonight," the guard said. "The boy was sure you'd know."

  Ajalia thought at once of Philas. She picked up the long sack, and patted at the things she carried within her robes. The white rock, and the falcon's dagger were there.

  "Where is Philas now?" Ajalia asked, coming down the steps. "The Eastern slave," she added. "I missed him. Where has he gone?" The guard was watching her curiously, an expression like that of a careful dog on his face.

  "Denai, that horse trader," the guard said, "he's been going about with him to see the horses. Those Eastern horses that you brought," he added quickly.

  "Well," Ajalia said. She was disappointed, but she did not think it prudent to wander about the city all night, looking for Philas. He would find his way to her, she thought, particularly if he wanted money. And Denai, she told herself, would bring Philas to her easily enough. "Where is Rane now?" she asked.

  "They've met in the old Thief Lord's house," the guard told her, "just around the street here. The place is empty now," the guard added. "People have come, and taken their things away. All of the servants are gone."

  Ajalia wanted to ask the guard why the people had come and emptied the house, but she remembered then the things she h
ad heard of the feast days, and also, she thought of the time that Lilleth had tried to steal the cover of the silks from the caravan. Simon and his wife, she told herself, aside from being gloriously unpopular, had been terrible thieves as well. She thought that anything that was in the Thief Lord's house would be seen by many of the people as fair game, and as just retribution for the deleterious effects she was sure Simon's reign had had on many of their lives.

  Ajalia followed the guard into the street, and along the short stretch of road that ran along to the Thief Lord's house. She wanted to ask the guard if he knew that Denai was one of the spies from Talbos, but for the second time, she held her tongue. Denai, to Ajalia, felt somehow distinct from the aura of sneaking and living double that Rane carried to her now. Denai, she thought, was honest still. When she pictured Denai, she thought of Rosk, and of the way that man's curious armor had shone in the moonlight of the wild black mountains. She would wait, she thought, until she had learned more of what Denai was doing in Slavithe, and why. Rane knew about the horse trader, Ajalia thought, but she was not sure that anyone else knew.

  The Thief Lord's house, when they reached it, looked utterly desolate. The facade was untouched, but something about the empty, dark windows, and the half-open front door, looked sad and wounded. The large white house looked like a robbed tomb. Ajalia shivered a little when she passed over the threshold; she held the long sack close, and felt the rub of her own bag against her body. Her knife made a reassuring pressure against her back.

  She thought, for a moment, about whether or not this friendly and smiling guard were a decoy of some kind; she had a sudden vision of herself being held as some strange ransom by the Talbos men. Ajalia thought of Rane holding her captive, and sending Delmar threatening and cryptic messages, and she smiled.

  The guard went through the house to the stairs, and began to climb to the second floor. Ajalia turned promptly on her heel, and went back to the front door of the house. Rane was standing in the open doorway, his arms folded, and a steely glint in his eye.