by JM Guillen
“Sir.” Barnabas glanced at me with a small smile. “You should know that the men—” Barnabas went silent with a wilting glare from the captain.
He dipped his head once then slipped out the door.
Need to be quick? Why? What kind of gloam-dreamt plans did he have for me?
My heart still pounded in my chest from the mention of my mother. How did he know about her? Who was he anyway? Certainly not some famed hero of the war but definitely a man with a plan.
As I glanced around, I couldn’t help but recall Royce’s words:
Ol’ Royce hears things, and lately he hears about a mysterious coin-purse that has an eye out for a lil’ something special.
That was spine-chilling, as I thought on it.
Old plans are usually the best. I watched the dark-haired man as I schemed. Perhaps I do need to step along. And soon.
A moment later, Barnabas returned with the fat auctioneer and a slimy blockhand carrying an armful of scrolls.
I edged toward them as the four men were engrossed with paperwork, signing this, sealing that. I glanced at them with every sidling step, but none looked up. Finally, coins were passed from hand to hand.
Then, a certain key was placed on the table.
This is it!
I took one more sidling step. No one noticed. I covered the key with one hand and ghosted it away.
Then, I slipped back. I quietly opened the not-quite latched door. A quick glance told me that nothing waited in the hall. I drifted out the door, leaving the room of metal and weirding crystals behind. I hoped no ghostlight followed.
I can’t run. I can’t run. I chanted in my head. Running means I’ll be noticed. If I’m noticed, I’ll be caught. I have to act like I’m supposed to be here.
I slipped down the hallway, trying to keep my head down. I can’t run. I can’t run. I can’t r—
“Hey! Hey, you!” A man’s voice bellowed.
“Well, that ends that.” I broke into a frenzied sprint. I ran, my feet furious against the ground as my heart thundered in my chest.
This was probably the only chance I’d get.
5
Almost mad with panic, I flew down the short corridor and dashed out into the sunlight, sprinting wildly through the bidder’s field.
I had no idea where I was going, but it hardly mattered. My heart pumped, and my lungs ached, as my legs pounded the ground. It was exhilarating. I’d never known how glorious freedom felt.
My time as a captive, no matter how short, had made quite an impression.
“Stop!” A second voice yelled as I streaked by.
Unlikely. I grinned.
I didn’t look to see if anyone followed me, simply concentrated on catching my vim. I had to get to the air docks, and my wind already shortened. But if I got to the docks…
Surely a ship would take me for the right price.
I knew full well that “the right price” would probably involve me on my back. Women often got taken by some of those captains after all, usually those living in the Verges, women no longer protected by the Accords. The stories of what happened to them were known by every girl before she flowered.
I had to admit that the thought didn’t sit well with me. This was a dangerous game, but I would deal with that when I got to the docks. I just had to get there bef—
Wham!
My face planted directly in the muddy, trampled grass. I wriggled but to no avail. I was completely immobilized by a heavy weight.
“I got her!” The deep voice of the supposed Captain Argent called back.
“Obviously,” I grumbled. Lost gods, but the man was fit! I had a good lead on him before I started running.
“I don’t know what you’re doing, and I don’t think you do either.” His whispered voice was a curious blend of exasperation and confusion. “Ysabel, we need to get you out of here.”
“I agree.” I struggled. “I was in the middle of doing just that without getting raped by some delusional loon pretending to be a war hero!”
He didn’t respond but continued to pin me to the ground with his vast bulk. I resisted the urge to struggle again. He was far too strong for me to move.
As I lay still, I felt his… hardness pressing into me.
“Truthfully?” I craned my neck. “Can’t wait, can you?” I glanced downward, where, for the first time, I noticed his pistol hidden behind his coat. It had shifted as he pinned me, and now it pushed into me.
Oops. It had been his pistol, and I had thought it was his gun.
“Oh, Ysabel. You really believe—?” His gaze dropped to the gun, and then met my eyes. Chuckling, he shook his head.
I flushed.
“What do you think?” I hissed the words. “I was sold into slavery this morning, after all, and I’ve spent my entire life watching what happens to young women who get bought.” I paused. “I know what men like you want.”
“No.” His gaze drifted far away. “You don’t know what I want, Ysabel, not at all. That’s part of the problem.” He shifted a touch, making certain that he had me securely.
Then, he reached for one of his pouches, his eyes solidly on mine.
“Let me show you.” His voice was soft, like a kiss at midnight. When he touched my hand, I gasped at the warmth.
“What?” I peered down at my hand. “I—?”
“Quiet now.” Something small was hidden in his fist. He faced me, a study of blankness. “This is yours, Ysabel,” he said softly. He took my hand, his gaze dropping from mine to watch as he carefully slid a small silver ring over my finger.
My jaw dropped.
What was this?
“Captain, I…” I breathed, stunned. I hadn’t expected anything like this whatever. A ring like this implied events that I hadn’t thought to ever see, given my new status in life. It certainly implied I was far more to him personally than a simple slave, or even a…
Had he purchased me as a concubine?
Then, in rapid bursts of sky blue, flowers of alchemical fire opened in my mind. The ring seemed to sing against my skin, and I felt like I was falling.
“Captain—!”
“Just breathe.” He smiled at me, a tight thing that almost seemed nervous.
My heart beat faster, and I couldn’t catch my breath. I tried to say something but forgot the words before my mouth opened, as if they had slinked away into the shadows behind my mind.
Then, like runoff from a summer rain, memories began to drift through my mind. Not my memories, however. No, they felt just a touch off, as if I were wearing someone else’s shoes.
“Captain Argent.” The woman’s voice came from behind me. I scowled upon hearing it; I was in no mood for company, not now. Particularly not from one of the wyrd-blooded.
They brought nothing but trouble.
“Leave me be.” I took another drink of my whiskey-savor and glanced around the bar. It was a truly hopeless place. I hadn’t expected anyone to find me here.
“What’s happening?” I gasped, trying not to tremble.
The captain’s verdant eyes offered no answer as he said, “You’re safe, Ysabel. Well, as safe as any—”
“—course I’m upset.” I didn’t want to look at her. “If Calyptin Station falls, then all the Northern Reaches will follow within a matter of months.” The knuckles of my fist were white as I fought to contain myself. “I’d take my men, find the filth that’s planning the attack—”
“But that is not enough, captain.” The woman’s voice poured into my mind, smooth as summer cream. “They have done enough damage to the bounds beneath Eld Calyptia already. Even if you take your soldiers, you cannot change what they have wrought.”
“No.” I faced her then, and she sat down, across from me. “It’s hopeless.”
She brushed her golden hair from her shoulders. Long and beautiful, it hung in intricate braids. “That is not for you to say, captain.” Her eyes, the pale blue of a winter sky, locked onto mine.
“Mother
.” Tears sprung to my eyes, hot tears of sorrow and bitter wine. She was dead! My father had told me so. We’d lived our entire lives—
“The line is failing, Argent. We can hold for long years if we must, but inevitably, the Shroud will come.” Her mouth pursed into a tight line.
“I thought you were offering yourself for my crew.” I took another swallow of my whiskey, grimacing at its fire. “Why come to me? Unless you have a plan?”
Ten thousand questions raged in my mind. If my mother was alive, why had she left us? And why hadn’t my father told me the truth?
“I do have a plan.” Her eyes shined with cunning. “You are right, I cannot go. But I think you should.”
“That’s rich.” I laughed, looking away from those arresting eyes. “So you won’t go, but me and mine should. We should risk the bloodstorms, even though we haven’t a Bedian’s bet on putting the bounds right. Not without one who bears the wyrd.”
“I said that I could not go with you, Argent.” She leaned forward, arresting me with those pale eyes. “I did not say you would have no help.”
I looked at her, simply waiting. Sometimes silence was best.
“I have a daughter in Calyptin Station, Argent. A trueborn daughter of my blood.”
The memory fell to ashes as Argent removed the ring from my finger. It was a physical sensation, like a fire suddenly doused in my mind.
“No!” I literally reached for her with my hand, as if I could grasp that memory.
“No mention of raping you, was there?” His words were hushed.
“I—I mean, how was—?” Anger flashed through me then, and I began to struggle again. “How was I to know? You’re an airship captain bidding on debtslaves after all!” My temper burned hot, fueled by years of my father’s deception. “Of course I thought you were only interested in—!”
Then, in our most excellent moment together, the ground trembled beneath us. In the far distance, warning sirens sounded, winding into long, loud cries.
I froze in place, not believing my ears.
“The clarions.” I breathed the words, gazing into the distance. When I looked back to Captain Argent, I knew my eyes must have been wide. “They’ve never sounded. Not once in my life.”
“I told you.” His voice was soft, but he focused toward the inners, toward the Highwall and the docks. “We need to wrap up this debtslave foolishness.”
The ground trembled again, and in the distance I could hear people crying out in alarm. What did it mean?
Before I could reply, a pair of boots stepped directly in front of us.
Captain Argent—lost gods, but it was actually him!—shuffled off me, and a pair of thick hands grasped my wrists. A rough yank hauled me to my feet.
The captain stood, brushing dead grass from his pants. “So,” His voice was light but muffled as he put the masque back on. “I see she is as physically fit as promised.”
“Yessir.” The workhand gasped, out of breath. He gazed into the sky as if he could see the cause of the clarions from here.
“Well, let’s finish our business. Sounds as if there may be trouble.” And the captain was gone, striding off the way I’d come.
I was hauled roughly along by the large guard that had been standing at the slave gate when I arrived. He wrenched both my wrists together painfully and ‘helped’ me back to the room from which I’d bolted. Of course he set the pace a little too fast, forcing me to stumble. Naturally, he steadied me. Or at least, he steadied parts of me.
I was given to understand that my chest needed a lot of support.
At last the guard shoved me through the door so I stumbled to my knees.
Again.
“You’ve got to stop that,” I hissed. The man was forever pushing me to my knees, though I doubted he was interested in watching me do devotions.
“She’s right.” The captain’s voice turned a touch reproachful. “She’s my property, and I’ll not have her scratched.”
“Yessir.” The guard regarded me blankly, then turned to the captain. “Sorry, sir.”
I picked myself up and leaned against the firmly closed door, my gaze at my feet. At last, I took a deep breath and lifted my head to meet the impassive gazes of Barnabas and the once again de-masqued Captain Argent.
From in here, the clarions were much softer, but someone still wound them. I wondered if the militia was forming up, preparing for some awfulness marching out of the gloaming darkness.
In that moment, my personal problems seemed less pressing.
“Shall we take up where we left off?” The captain’s voice was light, but I could feel the razored edge it held. “Time is short, Ysabel.”
“I can imagine.” I didn’t know what else to say. Was he angry I’d tried to run? Was I to be punished? How did he know my mother? I searched his face for any clue as to what might happen to me.
Oh my.
His emerald-green gaze swirled in verdant intensity. His eyes were so green, like the grass of summer, like forest leaves.
My breath stopped.
“You will sit.” He pointed at a small chair, and his tone left no room for discussion. “I will sign these papers, freeing you from the possession of”—here, he glanced at the documents again—“one Royce Yarrows. After that, we can discuss your freedom.”
Freedom? That one word was enough to catch my attention.
“Yes, sir.” I sat. “I’ll be still.”
“No more games, little Ysabel. You are going to do as I tell you, exactly as I tell you.” His words made me tremble. “If you attempt to escape again or harm me, Barnabas will catch you before you get down the passageway, and then I will sell your option.”
“Yes, sir.” My eyes were downcast. Normally I was fire and spite, all laughter and teeth, but in this moment, I was a lamb. Freedom. It was more than I dared hope for.
He glared at me for a long moment before turning back to the fat auctioneer, who seemed disturbed by more than my ghastly behavior.
“Sir, I don’t know if we should conclude our business at this time.” The auctioneer swallowed hard as he glanced toward the door. “The clarions haven’t sounded—”
“All the more reason to finish quickly, wouldn’t you agree?” The captain picked up his pen.
I sat as Captain Argent sussed over the documents, signing here and there. Barnabas stepped to me with a thick leather case. He set it on the table and then flipped open the latches. As he pulled out a small steel phial, he flashed me a grin. “The solvent.” He nodded toward my crimson hand.
I stepped toward him holding it out. The solvent smelled sharp, like rotting flowers and burnt hair. I felt the collar with my other.
I met Captain Argent’s shining green gaze. “No games,” his icy glare said.
“This will be cold.” Barnabas dabbed at my skin.
I shuddered. Cold indeed.
Still, even as Barnabas dabbed at my skin and the captain’s eyes remained stern, I could not help my giddiness. My mother is alive. The thought filled me with wild excitement. My mother is alive, and I might be free yet.
Of course, if freed, I needed to leave. I’d find my father and scuttle on. Even that seemed like a wonderful idea. Imaginings of wild adventures and fierce battles drifted through my mind.
The world had grown much larger since I’d left home, that was certain.
6
Moments later, all was done. Captain Argent shook hands with the auctioneer, and the man left. When he opened the door, I could hear the clarions clearly again. It sounded as if more towers were sounding the alarm now.
Then the door closed, leaving me alone with the captain and Barnabas.
“We need to have a discussion.” Captain Argent made my heart race with little more than the sharpness of his eyes.
“Yes, sir.” My voice grew breathy with excitement. Freedom! My mind caroled that single thought. Then I realized I gazed into his viridian eyes just as intently as my mother had. My mother... I couldn’t think abo
ut her now. I shook my head, but my questions persisted.
“I imagine you feel a little off balance. You’ve had a trying day.”
“That’s putting it lightly.”
“Yet important things are happening that you must understand.” He gave me a small smile and then glanced to Barnabas. “Watch outside. Don’t let anyone in. If things get bad out there, please let me know.”
“Yes, Captain.” Barnabas turned and left.
Bad? What was happening?
Then, it was just the two of us. I breathed deeply, keeping my chin high.
The wood-and-wild fragrance of him became overpowering. I had to admit, I loved the way his scent reached into me. I felt like a delicate thing before him, like a flower waiting to be picked and enjoyed.
It was an odd duality. On one hand, Captain Argent was certainly enigmatic and handsome in a classical, Riogiin sort of way. He had strong cheekbones and the smile of an absolute scoundrel. In any other moment, I would have desired his attention.
But I couldn’t care, not in that moment. I felt hollow, yet my gut roiled with excitement at the same time.
My mother is alive. It was impossible.
He leaned forward, so close that I could feel the heat from his skin. His gaze was intent and oh, so green. I felt his cool, emerald eyes as if he were tracing fingers along my body.
He opened his hand. That silver ring rested in his palm.
“We’re in danger here,” he said, serious as stone. “It’s going to get worse before it gets better.”
The gravity in his voice laid me low. It was underscored by the fact that, in the distance, I could still hear the clarions.
“Why do you have that?” I glanced down at the ring, then back up to his eyes. “What is it?”
“She gave it to me.” He paused. “Your mother.”
“That’s just—” I shook my head, struggling to believe the impossible. “She’s dead.”
But I knew different now, didn’t I? I’d seen her through the veil of his memory. I’d seen her eyes, so like my own, gazing from her face.