A murmur of agreement rippled through the buyers, and Jesse wondered if that was a good thing. Probably not, he decided. But none of it matters, as long as the four of us stay together. How he was going to manage that as a nameless, crippled slave, he had no idea.
“All right,” the shrew declared, as the buyers left the platform. “What do I hear for this lot of slaves?”
“Ten sceptres,” one of the servants called out.
“I’ll make it fifteen.” It was the rich man who liked slaves who couldn’t run away.
As the bidding went up, Jesse tried not to look surprised. He had never heard of this much money in all of his life. Most guests at the inn paid in crowns, and he had seen a gold sceptre coin only twice. Then again, I’ve never sold human beings either.
When the bidding was at twenty sceptres, someone from the back of the crowd shouted, “Thirty-five sceptres!”
This voice was new, and most of the crowd knew it, because they all turned, craning their necks to spot the newcomer.
There, leaning casually against the wall of a nearby building, was the foreigner from the alley. If he realized how out of place he looked with his dark skin and loose-fitting, colorful robe in the middle of a mob of grays and browns, he didn’t show it. His easy smile seemed to tell everyone around him that he knew what he was doing.
At least, that was why Jesse thought no one made another bid. Maybe we just aren’t worth any more.
“Sold!” the shrew declared, nodding at his partner. The fat man led Jesse and Silas toward their new master, parting the crowd with a scowl and shaking of his large fist.
“Here you are, sir,” the fat man said, shoving Jesse and Silas toward him. With his hands tied, Jesse could barely grip his walking stick to keep from falling. “Two slaves.”
The foreigner nodded politely. “Thank you.”
Now the fat man held out his dirty hand, clearing his throat.
“Oh, of course. The money.” The foreigner counted out the correct amount of coins from his pouch—the one the thief in the alley had been trying to steal—and gave them to the fat man.
So much money, all in one place! Jesse could hardly believe it. The man even had a few ten-sceptre pieces, something he had heard about, but had never seen.
“These ropes will not be necessary. If you would,” the foreigner said, nodding at the knife in the fat man’s belt.
“You mean untie them?” the fat man asked, his face twisting into a sneer. “They’ll run away!”
“I believe that is my decision to make,” the foreigner said calmly and with a confidence that Jesse admired. “Cut the ropes.”
“Yes, sir,” the fat man said meekly, sawing away at Jesse’s ropes without much gentleness.
Now Jesse knew that his new master was an important person. It was more than his money or the way he was dressed—he acted with authority. The fat man even bowed a little before waddling back to the platform.
Most of the crowd had turned back to watch the auction, and many even backed away from Jesse, Silas, and the foreigner. It’s because he looks different. They don’t trust him.
“My name is Prince Corin,” the foreigner said to them, giving a jerky little half-bow that made him seem like a puppet with tangled strings. “At your service.”
“At our service?” Silas asked, frowning.
“Yes,” Prince Corin said. “In my country, when someone saves a life, the person they save is responsible to pay back that debt.”
“Even if that debt costs thirty-five sceptres?” Jesse asked.
Now a hint of a smile appeared on Prince Corin’s face. “Well, I would not have my money anyway if that thief had succeeded. Besides, I plan on spending more than thirty-five sceptres.”
“Why?” Jesse asked, confused.
“Your friend saved me too, did he not?”
In all of the confusion, Jesse had forgotten about Parvel and Rae.
“You saved his life?” Silas asked Jesse. “How?”
Jesse explained, never looking away from the auction so he would be sure to see when Parvel was up for bid.
Prince Corin purchased Parvel for forty-two sceptres, after a fierce bidding war. It seemed that everyone wanted the strong, burly Parvel for a slave.
“Come, let us leave this place,” Prince Corin said, once Parvel had joined them. “It disgusts me.”
“But what about Rae?” Jesse blurted. They were just starting to bring the women out on the platform.
Prince Corin looked confused. “Who?”
“Now, the ladies!” the shrew man called, and there was another cheer, louder this time, along with scattered bursts of laughter. His partner shoved Rae forward first.
“Her!” Jesse hissed, pointing at Rae. “She’s with us.”
“Take a look at this gentle blossom,” the shrew declared. At the moment, Rae, jaw tight and dark eyes glaring defiantly out at the crowd, looked anything but gentle. “She’s sixteen years old.”
That was a lie. Rae was fourteen, a year younger than Jesse.
“Young and beautiful,” the shrew continued. “Take note of her delicate hands—perfect for needlework.”
Or for wielding a sword. “Are you going to bid?” Jesse demanded, as the shrew blathered on.
“I did not know she was with you,” Prince Corin said, clearly distressed. “How could I? You never said.”
“Twenty sceptres!”
“Well,” Parvel said impatiently, as yet another man raised his hand for bidding, “now that you know, bid!”
Jesse was shocked at his bluntness, but he remembered that Parvel was the son of a nobleman, and was used to ordering others around.
Prince Corin dipped his hand back into his purse and counted out the coins. “I do not have enough!” he whispered.
“How is that possible?” Silas demanded. “I thought you were a prince!”
“Silas,” Parvel scolded. “I’m sure he wasn’t planning on buying four slaves.”
“We can buy Rae back later,” Jesse said, trying to calm Silas. “Once this misunderstanding is cleared up….”
“You don’t understand,” Silas said flatly. The bid was up to twenty-eight sceptres. “In District Two, rich merchants often have more than one wife. They especially prefer beautiful slave girls.”
“What?” Jesse sputtered. “You don’t mean that Rae….”
One of the men with a ridiculous feathered hat called out, “Thirty-two sceptres!” He was so fat that he had jowls instead of a chin. And Rae might have to marry him?
“Forty sceptres.” This bid was from a Patrol member. Bright against the standard dark blue Patrol uniform was a red armband. Jesse had never seen one before. Perhaps it means he’s an officer of some kind. The thought was not comforting. Patrol members were known for being cruel, and their leaders even more so.
No one raised the bid any higher, though the shrew man tried to bring it up. “Sold!” he declared. The fat man practically had to wrestle Rae to get her to come down from the platform. Although she kept her head high, Jesse saw a flicker of fear in her eyes as she passed them.
“I’ll die before I let him take her away,” Silas said, and though there was little emotion in his voice, Jesse believed him.
“I will speak to him,” Prince Corin said, putting his hand on Silas’ shoulder to hold him back. “Perhaps my influence will count for something. He may be reasonable.”
“It’s clear that you’re a stranger here,” Silas said. “Reasonable is not a good word to describe most Patrol, especially the palace guards.”
So that was what the red armband means.
Prince Corin was not going to be discouraged. “Just the same, I can try.”
“Couldn’t you kick him like you did that thief?” Jesse blurted out. Prince Corin gave him a withering look. “It was just an idea
.”
But when Prince Corin returned, Rae was not with him. “He will not give her up,” he said, shaking his head. “Not for any amount of money. He said that Lady Taralyn needs a new maid. Her last one was dismissed from service yesterday.”
In spite of himself, Jesse breathed a sigh of relief. “Then she’s not going to be married to anyone?”
“No.”
The next question was obvious. “Who is Lady Taralyn?”
“Governor Elias’ daughter,” Silas replied, looking grim. “Which means that she’s one of the richest, most powerful women in District Two. If she wants Rae as a servant, she will get her.”
“I am sorry about your friend,” Prince Corin said.
A rich, powerful prince apologizing to his slaves. Jesse almost laughed at the ridiculous situation.
“No,” Parvel said. “You did what you could. And we are grateful.”
Now what? Jesse wondered. He was already hot, standing in the middle of the crowd in the bright spring sun, and his head was beginning to ache from the noise.
“Now I must return to the governor’s palace. You are free to go,” Prince Corin said. “My debt is paid.”
Jesse expected Parvel or Silas to lead them away, perhaps to find Roddy and think of a way to rescue Rae. Instead, Parvel stayed firmly where he was, staring off into the distance with a thoughtful look on his face.
“Prince Corin,” Parvel said slowly, “where did you say you’re going, again?”
“The palace.”
Jesse exchanged a glance with Parvel. Exactly where we need to go. “Could we speak to each other for a few moments…alone?” Parvel asked.
“Certainly.” Prince Corin bowed his head at them slightly and walked away.
“Don’t go far,” Silas advised. To Parvel and Jesse, he added under his breath, “We can’t rescue him twice in one day.”
Jesse wondered when “we” had rescued Prince Corin, since Silas had not been involved, but he didn’t say anything.
“This could be our way into the palace,” Parvel said, sounding excited. “We can rescue Rae and find the Forbidden Book!”
“You want us to offer to be this man’s slaves?” Silas snapped.
Jesse laughed. He couldn’t help himself—it sounded so foolish when Silas put it like that.
Parvel shot him a quick glare and turned back to Silas. “That’s exactly what I’m saying. He’s our way into the palace. Unless you prefer to climb over the wall of a heavily guarded fortress.”
“And then the inner wall too,” Silas added, looking as though he was starting to see Parvel’s point.
“What?” Jesse asked, confused.
“A moat surrounds the outer wall of the palace,” Silas explained. “There is only one bridge to get across, which leads you to the main guard tower. Inside the outer walls are the palace grounds—the gardens, the lawn, the stables and outer buildings. Then, the palace itself, where the governor, his family, and their court members live, has another wall around it.”
“It would be impossible for us to go through all of that on our own without getting caught,” Jesse said. “Not that I don’t appreciate the chance to compare the conditions of yet another prison….”
Silas still didn’t look very enthusiastic about Parvel’s idea. “I am not going to be anyone’s slave.”
“He doesn’t seem to be a hard master,” Jesse pointed out. “Besides, what would you have us do, leave Rae behind?”
His glare was answer enough. “Fine. But I don’t like it.”
Parvel waved Prince Corin over, though he didn’t notice for a few moments because he was too busy staring at a traveling minstrel performing for a crowd of booing peasants.
“Perhaps this is for the best,” Parvel said, slapping Jesse on the back. “After all, it might be a good chance for Jesse to get some new clothing so that people won’t mistake him for a beggar.”
“Yes,” Silas said, rolling his eyes. “Now he’s a slave. Quite a step up.”
Prince Corin joined them, but before he could say anything, Parvel spoke up. “We would like to remain your slaves.”
“Temporarily,” Silas added quickly.
Prince Corin stared at them for a moment, as if he were wondering if this was some strange Amarian custom. “May I ask why?”
“Yes,” Silas said, “but we won’t answer. Not yet.” Parvel frowned at him, and he shrugged. Jesse knew that it would take more than repaying a favor for Silas to trust Prince Corin with knowledge of their mission.
“It has something to do with the young lady, does it not?” he asked, giving Silas a knowing smile, which Silas returned with his usual cold stare.
Except…Jesse gave him a second look. He couldn’t be blushing…could he?
“We feel it might be best to tell you at another time,” Parvel said, attempting to smooth things over, as usual.
“Very well,” Prince Corin said, turning away. “We will go to the palace.” He turned back to them with a more princely bearing. “But I will get an explanation. Soon. Am I understood?”
Only Jesse and Parvel nodded. Prince Corin began to walk more quickly. “Why are you in such a hurry?” Jesse asked, struggling to keep up.
“You do not know?” Prince Corin asked. Apparently, their blank faces communicated that they didn’t. “The tournament starts in no less than half of an hour, and I cannot be late.”
Chapter 7
Once, when Jesse was seven years old, a traveling carnival had come to Mir. He remembered being fascinated by the colorful wagon, the fancy saddles on the horses, and the chatter of the bustling crowd who gathered to watch the performers. Everything seemed bigger and brighter, louder and more exciting, with the carnival in town.
That’s what Jesse thought of as they crossed over the bridge that led to the lawn surrounding the palace. Tents were set up here and there, creating splotches of color against the green grass. Fluttering above them were flags with all kinds of shapes and designs. From somewhere came a lilting, cheerful melody, although Jesse could hardly hear it over all the noise.
So this is what a tournament is like! Jesse had heard of rich nobles who had the time and money to throw elaborate parties where the main entertainment was watching warriors pretend to fight each other. The idea sounded like nonsense then, but now he began to understand the appeal.
Prince Corin had gotten them across the drawbridge and past the outer wall. Inside, the governor seemed to have his own walled city, complete with clumps of trees and a bustling main road.
“Follow me,” Prince Corin said, bringing Jesse’s attention back. “I must get you some proper clothes. I cannot have my servants looking so ragged. People are already staring.”
Jesse knew Prince Corin didn’t realize that people were staring at him, not them. Everything about Prince Corin—his clothes, his appearance, his walk, his voice—announced that he was not from Amarias.
“Look who’s back,” a low voice snarled.
Jesse turned around. There, standing with his arms crossed, was the closest thing to a human peacock that Jesse had ever seen. Compared to this man, the rich merchants in the town square seemed to be dressed as plainly as priests. His doublet was made of blue silk, with sleeves so large that Jesse though it must be hard for him to squeeze through doorways. His shoes and belt were decorated with large, scrolled buckles, and a floppy purple hat covered much of his forehead.
His face was twisted into a haughty sneer, all of his features coming to a point at his upturned nose. He eyed Prince Corin with beady eyes, glinting with private laughter.
The kind of person you want to punch in the face, Jesse decided.
For his part, Prince Corin just kept walking.
“Thought you might have run away, island boy,” the peacock crowed, stepping in behind them. “Too afraid of getting whipped in the swordfight
today. Do they even have swords on your little island?”
Prince Corin turned to Jesse and made a face like he had tasted something foul. Then he turned, face perfectly calm. “Yes,” he said. “I’ve been trained in sword fighting since I was twelve years old.”
“Is that all?” the peacock asked, snorting. “You won’t have a chance. My father had me using a small broadsword as soon as I turned three. All of the nobles in District Two do the same with their sons.”
“How fortunate for you,” Prince Corin said. “However, my father was of the opinion that young children should not be exposed to violence.”
“Listen, island boy,” the peacock sneered, “Lady Taralyn is the wealthiest noblewoman in Amarias, thanks to her greedy father. And she’s beautiful too, from what I hear. Her suitors are the best swordsmenin the land. You don’t have a chance. Why don’t you just go back where you came from?”
Jesse saw Parvel stiffen beside him. Please, Parvel, don’t do anything foolish, he willed him. A slave talking back to a powerful noble was offense enough to warrant losing a hand.
“Please remind me of your name, if you would,” Prince Corin said.
The peacock seemed surprised at Prince Corin’s polite question. “Duke Hale of Glen Court.”
Prince Corin’s smile reminded Jesse of the thin, soapless dishwater after his aunt had finished all the dishes on a busy night at the inn. “Well then, Duke Hale, I should tell you that I do not believe in chance. Just skill, hard work, and the will of God.”
That stopped Duke Hale for a moment. Then the cocky gleam returned. “So what if it’s God’s will that I stomp you into the dirt today?”
“It is possible,” Prince Corin said, shrugging. “But I have found that God rarely takes the side of the haughty and cruel.”
Duke Hale’s eyes narrowed. “What are you saying, island boy?”
“Just that I look forward to the honor of fighting against you during the tournament,” Prince Corin said mildly, turning away again.
Jesse glanced back at Duke Hale, who stood staring at them, looking as if he were trying to figure out if he had been insulted or not.
Curse of the Forbidden Book Page 6