He sighed. “I’m not sure. I’ve been hiding for many suns now, and I’m embarrassed. My brother would never have hidden from his fate.” He brushed away one of Symal’s tears. “For Symal’s sake, I will wait one more sun. But whatever you come up with, it better be worth the pride and honor that I’m losing by hiding another sun.”
One sun! Rydah wasn’t sure he could accomplish what he needed in one sun. He had to ride home, research his files, and return—all without being spotted by guards. And what of Jenya? He’d have to leave her with the doctor—she would be in no position to travel. Still, he didn’t feel he had much choice.
“Very well, my Acolyte. I must leave immediately.” He turned to Darikani. “I don’t have time to return for my carriage. I must ride back to Blethryn. Could you collect my carriage and keep my horse safe until I return?”
Darikani, who had been standing in the shadows, watching quietly as the Damons talked, nodded. “Yes, sire. Leave it to me.”
“Good. I shall return on the morrow.” With that, he turned and left, his mind a turmoil.
Chapter Thirteen
Lord Rydah rode through the night, grateful the darkness protected him from patrols. He had no idea how he might return in the sunlight undetected.
The horse carried him at a gallop for three leagues, then Rydah had to let him rest. They trotted along for a few more leagues, as the lord tried to remember the document he sought. Could he find it in time? Did it even exist, or did he remember it incorrectly?
Dawn approached as he entered Blethryn. He urged the horse on until he reined up outside his house. Dismounting quickly, he tied the horse to a post and went inside, hoping no one noticed his Craftsman cloak. Along the wall next to his desk were old documents he had edited. Quickly he began to thumb through them, searching.
He lost track of time. Papers soon surrounded him, littering the floor. He had rummaged through half the bookcase before he found what he had been looking for. He sat, oblivious of his surroundings, as he read and reread the document.
He heard the horse snorting outside and realized he needed to give him water before he attempted to ride him back to Balgari. Rydah rose and found a shallow basin, then dipped it into the fountain in back. Rydah was startled to see the sun high in the sky. Rand! He must get back!
He came out onto the porch and placed the basin for the animal. He stood and watched it drink as his mind whirled with ideas. It just might work, he decided, especially if the plan came from the mouth of Acolyte Lepdar.
A shout distracted him. He looked up to see the town crier approaching, making his announcements. Crowds gathered.
“Acolyte Lepdar found!” the boy yelled. “Hiding with a Craftsman’s daughter! Acolyte being returned to castle!”
Rand’s awful luck! I was so close!
Rydah jumped forward, then stopped. He didn’t know what to do, where to go. The chances of him getting near the Acolyte again were slim, he realized. Third-tier Damons just weren’t invited to the palace, especially during such difficult times.
And what of Symal?
* * * * *
High Lord Bandar paced. “Where is he now?” he demanded. His full head of white hair was edged with sweat.
The captain of the guard, Malfiseus, bowed for the third time. “He’s just a few leagues away. He should be here within a hura or two.”
“And what of the girl?”
“She’s been taken on ahead, as you ordered. She will be here much sooner. The Acolyte put up a terrible fight about it. He’s sworn to have the heads of the guards who carried out your orders, m’lord.”
Bandar waved his hand. “Not to worry. The guards do what I tell them to do.” He pointed at Malfiseus. “Have the girl brought to me as soon as she arrives.”
Malfiseus bowed a final time and escaped.
Bandar turned to Kendam and sighed. “Aren’t you glad you have no children, my priest? They bring you nothing but heartache.”
Kendam nodded. He was a squat man, less than six capeks. His hair had long since thinned, so he wore a dark wig to give the appearance of full Damon hair. It rankled him, though he never mentioned it. He leaned in to the High Lord and whispered, “Never fear, m’lord. We will make sure the slut doesn’t interfere with your plans. She’ll be sorry she every turned the head of the Acolyte. I have riders speeding to Farzan right now with the message that the wedding will take place as scheduled.”
“Good. What should we do with her?”
“Leave that to me, m’lord. The less you know of it, the better.”
* * * * *
Rydah rode hard east once again. His eyelids were heavy, sleep tugged at him. He’d been up for more than a full sun, yet he rode on, spurring the tired horse. He had to reach Jenya. He didn’t know why exactly. Yes, he wanted to know how she was doing, but there was something else. A need to share his idea with her. He might be able to save the Acolyte and Symal if he could just figure out how to break through the layers of sycophants and bureaucrats around the High Lord.
Balgari came into view in the late afternoon. The guards were absent—they had cleared out as soon as the Acolyte had been found. He reined the exhausted horse up at the stables and ducked inside. No doubt Darikani had seen to it that his horse was fed and watered. His carriage sat right outside. He retrieved his Damon cloak from the tack room and put it on.
He unsaddled the horse and made sure it had food and water, then took the carriage horse outside and fastened him in place. Doing chores usually reserved for a Laborer made him feel useful, which was comforting, as so far, he’d been worth nothing to Symal and Farda.
Climbing aboard, he snapped the reins and pointed the horse toward Mantaro. It took him another long hura to reach the tiny town. He reined up outside the doctor’s office and went inside.
“Nerat?” Silence greeted him.
Alarmed, he strode into the back room and found Jenya sleeping on the cot. Rydah’s heart leaped at seeing her safe and sound. He dropped to one knee at her side and touched her arm.
She came awake instantly and turned. When she saw him, she gave a small cry and started to open her arms, then stopped. Rydah surprised even himself when he forgot his station and hugged her instead. They froze in mid-embrace and separated awkwardly.
“M’lord. I’m happy to see you’ve returned safely from your adventure,” she said formally.
“Yes. Sorry it took so long. I had to ride to Blethryn to find something.”
“Blethryn! M’lord! You’ve only been gone a sun!”
“I know, it couldn’t be helped. Are you all right?”
“Oh, yes, master. The doctor has taken good care of me. I believe I’m ready to travel whenever you want to go.”
“Good,” he said. “Did you hear about the Acolyte?”
She nodded. “Yes, the doctor told me. I’m sorry, sire. I had hoped you’d be able to help your poor niece.”
“I may still be able to—unless it’s already too late. The Acolyte is back at the castle by now and they’ll never let a lowly third-tier Damon inside to see him.”
Jenya studied her master’s face, which seemed lined with worry. She wanted to reach out and touch his cheek, to assure him that she still believed in him.
Suddenly, she sat up. “Sire! I think I know of a way to get into the castle.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Yes?” Inwardly, he wondered what a mere slave might come up with.
“You could offer to breed me to the High Priest! Isn’t that a custom on occasion?”
“Well, yes, but I hardly think Bandar would have time…” he trailed off. He suddenly saw where she was going with this idea.
“Sure, he’d be too busy—that’s why it might work!” Her face was flushed with excitement. “Maybe we could get past the guards that way and then find the Acolyte.”
Rydah tried to keep the surprise from his expression. That a slave could come up with such a devious—and risky—plan! But it made a lot of sense. Many lower-tier lords w
ould be honored to raise the offspring of Bandar or Kendam or one of the other leaders. While they had no official standing, word had a way of getting around. Rydah knew of several young men and women who had moved up from third tier to second because they had been high-born offspring.
Still, he resisted it. What if Bandar actually agreed to it? Could he allow her first-born to be another lord’s child? “No! I forbid it! I’ve been waiting too many rynes for you!” Even as he protested, he could think of no other way. Time was running out for Symal.
Jenya didn’t say anything. She let him come to the same realization she had. They had to act now, the morrow might be too late.
Rydah bit his lower lip. “I’m not sure, slave. It’s risky. We could end up on the gallows. Besides, you are injured.”
“I’m much better now, master.”
He grunted. “Let me see you.”
She rolled her legs out of bed and stood up. Rydah noticed she still wore a bandage, though it was smaller than before.
“It was only a scrape.” She reached down and began unwinding the bandage. Rydah waited, expecting to see the bloody red mark that he remembered. When she pulled away the last of the cloth, he could see her wound had scabbed over nicely.
They heard the door open. “Oh, my lord! I’m sorry! I had to run out to help a patient!” Nerat bustled in, bag of medicine in hand.
“No harm, Lord Nerat,” Rydah said. “I’ve been admiring what a great job you’ve done with my slave.”
He beamed. “Thank you, sire. Just a few herbs and teas. Your slave has remarkable recovery powers.”
“I take it she can be released?”
“Oh, yes, m’lord. Whenever you want.”
Rydah pressed a few coins on the doctor and took some herbs to make teas for her in exchange. In a few more lapars, he was helping Jenya into the carriage. He noticed she still limped a bit. He didn’t bother to chain her. “Come, we must hurry. I hope you’re all right to ride.”
“Yes, master.”
He snapped the reins and the horse leaped ahead, pulling the cart after it.
Chapter Fourteen
Symal stood in front of High Priest Kendam, feeling small and vulnerable, her eyes downcast. Guards flanked her, swords at the ready if she tried to bolt. The priest glared down at her from his raised chair.
“You’ve caused quite a bit of trouble, whore.” The harsh word stung her, but she said nothing.
“You’ve turned the head of our Acolyte during a crucial time in our priestdom’s history. Will future generations look back upon this sun as the time a Craftsman’s slut brought down an entire priestdom?”
Still Symal held her tongue. She thought the high priest completely misunderstood. She hadn’t planned to fall in love with the Acolyte, it had just happened. But she was far too terrified to stand up for herself.
“I should have you beheaded immediately,” he said, obviously pleased to see her flinch at his statement. He stepped off his chair and approached her. Symal noticed at once that he was barely a calabon taller than she, though much fatter. “But that would displease High Lord Bandar.” He paused. “At least, for now.” His threat caused another ripple of fear to pass through her.
“If not for the Acolyte, I’d have you stripped naked and put in stocks on the main square.” He leaned in. “I would enjoy seeing you humiliated in front of the townsfolk.”
Tears began to flow down Symal’s cheeks. “M’lord…”
“Silence!” He thundered, his hand slapping her hard across her cheek. “I did not give you permission to speak! You have nothing to say to me! You are a slut, a worm, a dirty little cunt that’s gotten herself in trouble she can’t even imagine.”
Symal trembled as he walked around her. “I know what should be done with you. By using your feminine charms on the Acolyte, you acted just like a slave. So a slave you shall become.” Kendam turned to the tallest guard. “Guard, this slave seems to be wearing clothes! Can you imagine?”
The guard stepped forward and ripped Symal’s clothes from her body. She screamed and tried to cover up.
The guard glanced up at Kendam, who nodded, so the soldier swung his riding crop down on her back. Symal screamed again and dropped to one knee.
“I’ll have the Acolyte on you!” she blurted out in anger and fear.
Without a word, Kendam grabbed the crop out of the guard’s hand and began beating her himself. She fell to the ground, writhing and screaming under the blows. “Slaves don’t threaten their masters,” he said when he finally stopped, leaving her with several red welts on her back and legs.
He handed the crop back to the guard. “Take her to the slave pens of Goren. Tell the administrator to soften her up and put her into the breeding chambers. Let’s see how the Acolyte likes her once she’s heavy with Warrior child.”
Symal looked up, horrified. “NOO!” she shouted as the guards dragged her away. Goren was more prison than slave pen. Women didn’t go there to become mates for Damons, only to serve as the receptacle for the semen of Laborers and Warriors.”
* * * * *
Rydah couldn’t contain his nervousness as he slowed the carriage outside the palace wall. His face remained etched with tiredness, although Jenya had helped him by taking the reins during their journey east, allowing him to catch a nap while sitting up in his seat.
The palace guard stopped him with an abrupt wave of his hand. The big, hard-looking Warrior towered over the lord. “Your business, m’lord?” he said without the slightest bit of courtesy.
“I have a breeder that High Lord Bandar is expecting,” he said brightly, his face showing a smile he didn’t feel.
The guard raised a bushy eyebrow. “This has been arranged?”
“Yes, of course. Here is my pass.” He thrust a paper into his hands and held his breath. Having worked with Bandar’s writing and signature for many rynes now, Rydah believed he could copy it in his sleep. Still, he was petrified that the guard would somehow see through his deception.
From the way the guard studied the document, Rydah suspected he couldn’t read. All the better. He hoped the Damon seal would impress him. “Wait here,” the guard barked and took the document to a scribe waiting inside.
Long lapars passed. Just as he was beginning to panic, the guard returned abruptly, handed him the document, then waved him through.
Rydah slapped the reins quickly and the carriage leaped forward. He slowed it immediately, fearful his nervousness might give them away. He headed the carriage toward the main stables, where he would be expected to drop it off.
After securing a promise from the stableboy to feed and water his horse, Rydah took one end of Jenya’s chain and walked toward the imposing stone palace.
“This had better work, or we’ll both end up in prison—probably in a cell next to Symal,” Rydah whispered out of the side of his mouth. He held the chain loosely, and only yanked on it when guards were present.
“I could think of no other way to get us close to the Acolyte, m’lord.”
“I know. It is a good plan. I’m surprised a slave would think of it.” Rydah couldn’t help admire his prize. Not only did she promise to be an excellent breeder, she had intelligence as well!
He had tried to find flaw in Jenya’s plan, but even as he did, he began to come up with answers to his own arguments. It was Rydah’s idea to forge Bandar’s handwriting, but he hadn’t stopped there.
As they entered the castle, two more guards stopped them.
“Your business, m’lord?” The first guard asked. He wore the Warrior cloak, but with markings that put him at the highest tier of his caste. He was more deferential than the gate guard, probably because he assumed the Damon already had passed scrutiny.
“We’re on our way to see Acolyte Lepdar to deliver my breeder for his seed,” Rydah replied smoothly, handing the man his second forged document—one using Lepdar’s name throughout instead of Bandar’s.
Rydah had not seen the Acolyte’s handwriting, s
o he simply copied Bandar’s again. He hoped the son would have a similar writing style, including the signature. The guard studied it, his brow furrowed. Rydah was impressed—the guard could read.
“I don’t understand, er, Lord Rydah. The Acolyte is, um, indisposed at the moment. He can’t possibly see your breeder this sun.”
Rydah put an edge into his voice. “Really? We made these plans a few moons ago. Has something come up that would prevent him from honoring our signed agreement?”
The guard fidgeted. “Um. I’m not able to say, m’lord. Perhaps if you could come again another sun…”
“But I’ve already driven many leagues to come here on the Acolyte’s request,” Rydah protested. “I should have been contacted.”
“Yes, but—”
“My breeder is ready for seed this very sun! I insist that I at least be given a short audience with the Acolyte so that we may clear up this most distressing development.” Rydah pulled himself up to this full height. He was a good two calabons taller than the guard. He glowered down at the Warrior, daring him to refuse a Damon.
Jenya stared at the ground, her chain rattling softly as she trembled. The guard glanced over, taking in her beauty. Rydah could see his mind working: What would the Acolyte say when he found out this guard sent away a breeder he had agreed to mate with? The guard hesitated. “Wait here, sire.” He turned and spoke a few words to a second guard, then trotted off up the corridor carrying the document with him.
Rydah now could only hope that the Acolyte saw the document, not Bandar or Kendam, and if Lepdar did see it, he’d remember the name of the lord who had spoken to him at the old farmhouse. If he was too preoccupied to worry about a third-tier Damon, Rydah and Jenya would be in the dungeon within the next ten lapars, charged with attempted sedition and forgery.
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