The Sleeping King

by Cindy Dees

  “Gimme a good reason why I oughtn’t do as them soldiers is shoutin’ at me to and return to shore,” a voice growled over her head.

  Raina looked up. The barge captain. “Because they want to drag my friend off and imprison him or worse, when all he has done is help me out of a difficult situation.”

  The sailor shrugged. “They’s Anton’s men. Disobeying ’em is same as disobeying ’im. An’ I ain’t inclined to cross the guv’nuh’. ’E’s a mean one, ’e is.”

  Raina winced. “Can’t you tell them the current is too strong to turn around? Or that your cargo is bound for the governor and you dare not keep him waiting?” She gave the captain her best approximation of a kicked-puppy look—the one that always worked on Justin.

  The captain’s expression softened a tiny bit. “I shouldn’t.”

  She poured all the charm she possessed into her voice. “But in your heart, you know it’s the right thing to do. Please. Just this once.”

  Cicero piped up from where he sprawled beneath her, “Cut her a break, man. She has done nothing wrong. The soldiers were chasing me.”

  Raina scrambled off of him, mumbling an embarrassed apology.

  He climbed to his feet, flashing her a rare, wry smile from behind those wise eyes of his. “We are willing to pay handsomely for passage downriver. I’ve enough gold to make it worth your while to … look the other way … regarding our manner of boarding.”

  The captain’s eyes took on a cunning gleam that worried Raina. “Give it to me now.”

  Cicero laughed merrily. “Not a chance. I’ll show it to you now. But you’ll not get a copper until we set foot upon shore.” Raina noted that Cicero’s hand rested comfortably on the hilt of his sword.

  The captain must have noted the same, for he scowled but nodded in agreement.

  The pole men had pushed them out into the main portion of the river and the barge rocked gently as the current caught it. The soldiers onshore yelled insults and invective at the captain, their threats of what they were going to do to him upon his return growing ever more dire.

  He glanced over at Cicero. “Ye’d best pay me well. I ain’t gonna be able to put ashore in Castlegate Falls fer a while.”

  Cicero shrugged. “They’re human. Short memories. In a few months, they won’t remember a thing.”

  The captain, a human, too, grinned. “Aye, true enough, pointy ears. Fugitives like you two are as common as copper. Them soldiers’ll find themselves a bigger fish to fry afore long.”

  Raina’s heart dropped to her feet. She’d fled the Haelan legion. Disobeyed their orders to stop. She was officially a fugitive. The finality of the step she’d just taken struck her. Until now, she’d always had the option of identifying herself as Raina of Tyrel, a minor colonial noble, and she would have immediately had status and safety, not to mention a quick journey back home. But she’d just left all that behind. Her safety net was gone.

  They drifted on what Cicero declared to be a stiff current. The barge traveled in an hour as far as they could have walked in half a day. The countryside as they drew closer to the capital was heavily settled, although it looked no more prosperous than the rural hinterlands.

  Overnight, she and Cicero took turns napping because neither of them entirely trusted the captain not to slit their throats in their sleep and steal Cicero’s purse. Raina did not ask where he had come by the pouch of coins in his absence from Mag and Arv’s hut, and he did not offer an explanation. Now that they had money, she was relieved of the necessity to trade healing for passage. Which was just as well. Healers with her volume of magic were apparently quite rare and drew a fair bit of attention.

  The barge rounded a bend late the next morning, and a city so vast she could not see the far margin of it came into view. Dupree.

  Gold changed palms as the barge docked, and the captain grinned, appearing satisfied. Whether it would be enough that the fellow made no mention of them to the authorities remained to be seen.

  She leaped across the short gap from deck to dock, nothing compared to the mighty jump she’d made to board the vessel. And yet she managed to catch her hem on a board and stumble headlong into a richly dressed and accoutered young noble who happened to be striding past.

  He caught her as she staggered into him and righted her courteously enough. “Easy there!”

  “I’m so s-s-sorry,” she stammered. “I caught my skirt, and, well, you know the rest.”

  Her rescuer scanned her assessingly before answering her lightly, “No doubt, it was fate that threw you at my feet. I am Kendrick of Hyland.”

  She recognized the name. Hyland was said to be one of the largest and most powerful landholds near Dupree. As she recalled, the landsgrave’s given name was Leland, though. This must be his son. His handsome, charming, womanizing son, if she had to guess. He looked as spoiled and entitled as his rank suggested he might be.

  “And you are?” the young man prompted her.

  She and Cicero had discussed this very thing. He had no confidence in her to remember to answer to a false name, and she had to agree. Thankfully, Raina was not that uncommon a name. They’d agreed she would use it but forego her title, henceforth. She dropped automatically into a curtsy. “I am Raina. It is my pleasure to meet you, kind sir.”

  Cicero glared at her over the young man’s shoulder, and she realized belatedly that perhaps she should not have been so courtly in her response to Kendrick. She was supposed to be a commoner on her way to Dupree to look for work as a lady’s maid. But it just felt … right … to address the young man thus. She always had had a talent for instinctively knowing the best way to speak to others, whether to strike a formal tone or respect, or gently joke, or, as in this case, to flirt a bit.

  Sure enough, Kendrick’s eyebrows lifted in pleased surprise. He took a closer and more interested look at her. Curses. “Where are you bound in such a hurry, Raina? Have you time to tarry for a while?”

  If she did not know better, she would guess he thought she was some doxy for hire by the hour—no matter that she was not wearing the Entertainer’s Guild colors. The idea offended her more than a little. Bent on correcting his misapprehension, she replied a shade tartly, “As you saw, my traveling companion and I have just come ashore.”

  Kendrick eyed Cicero speculatively. “What sort of companion?”

  It was a forward question. Not the sort a young gentleman asked of a young lady. But it was the sort of thing a noble could demand of a commoner, she supposed. “Family friend and protector,” she replied, hoping that was evasive enough while appearing to give a reasonable explanation.

  Cicero rolled his eyes at her over Kendrick’s shoulder. She glared back. It was better than the fellow thinking they were lovers!

  “… on my way to make an urgent purchase,” Kendrick was saying. “If you would accompany me on my errand, it would be my great pleasure to dine with you afterward.”

  Raina’s stomach growled on command, and Kendrick laughed. “It seems your belly accepts my offer.” He ordered in a tone clearly accustomed to being obeyed, “Come then. I must hurry.”

  Had a pair of surly-looking soldiers not come into sight just then prowling the docks, she would have told this arrogant young man what he could do with his order. Instead, though, she fell in meekly beside him. Cicero followed just behind her, scowling and looking exactly the part of a long-suffering bodyguard. The three of them passed by the soldiers without incident, and Raina let out the breath she’d been holding.

  Kendrick made his way to a jeweler’s shop. Although it was somewhat less prosperous looking than she’d have guessed a person of Kendrick’s station would choose to frequent. She was quite surprised, however, when he stripped off the many rings and brooches and necklaces gaudily adorning his person and presented them to the jeweler for sale. Kendrick obviously came from wealth. What could a young man of his station need gold for so urgently that his family would not simply give it to him? A gambling habit, perchance? Or maybe the purc
hase of female companionship?

  “What will you give me for the lot?” Kendrick demanded of the jeweler.

  He and the shopkeeper haggled a price, which, frankly, she thought was highway robbery on the part of the jeweler. But as a commoner she would not know such a thing and held her tongue.

  Kendrick’s next stop was a weapon smith’s establishment. He went through the same routine, laying down two long swords, a beautifully inlaid bow, a short sword, and a pair of jeweled daggers on the counter for sale. This time it was Cicero who pulled a face at the final price.

  However, Kendrick snatched up the coins hurriedly and headed for what appeared to be the worst neighborhood in Dupree. His destination was a large, run-down warehouse built of rotting wood.

  Cautiously, she and Cicero followed Kendrick inside … to a slave auction of the worst possible kind. The slaves were filthy and half-starved looking, chained together in tight gangs of men, women, and children of various races. The slavers yelled harshly and treated their product little better than sheep, prodding at them with long canes, and striking them if they disobeyed. It sickened Raina to see it. The slavers here were white tiger rakasha and looked none too reputable. Even Cicero wrinkled his nose in distaste.

  “Those are Kithmar slavers,” he muttered to her. “Thieves, cutthroats, and mercenaries for hire when they’re not slaving. They’re one of the few changeling clans to join the Empire. I heard that they were royalty among their kind at one time, but I find it hard to credit.”

  “What is the story on those men over there?” she asked, gesturing toward a pair of well-dressed humans with prominent snake tattoos on their forearms. One of the men appeared to have a bodyguard, a burly troll born—part man, part troll. The other was accompanied by a beautiful young woman.

  Kendrick muttered scornfully, “Those are Anton’s lackeys. The one with the troll born lackey is Bogatyr, the Dupree Entertainer’s Guild Master. He’s probably here on the hunt for combatants for the Diamond.”

  She’d heard plenty about Diamond arenas, but her parents had never allowed her to attend a spectacle at one. They deemed the armed combat and gambling far too violent for a young girl’s sensibilities.

  Kendrick continued, “The other man is Kenzarr. The Dupree Slaver’s Guild Master. That’s his daughter with him. Mistress Richelle Devereaux. She’s also with the Slaver’s Guild.”

  Raina started to ask Kendrick what could possibly bring him to a place like this, but she had her answer as soon as she turned. He’d moved over to a row of slaves and was speaking with two young janns, a male and a female with the swirled markings of the elements on their skin. Brown stone coloring dominated in the big, muscular youth with a touch of red fire coloring, whereas the female was heavily blue water marked, with only a hint of stone coloring her visible flesh. As the girl moved, a striking iridescence shone in her water markings.

  Kendrick moved toward the nearest Kithmar, a female, and Raina sidled closer to hear the conversation.

  “… willing to buy those two jann now and forego the auction block. What price for them?”

  She could not hear the Kithmar’s growled answer, but dismay was clear on Kendrick’s features as he turned away from the slaver. Kendrick rejoined her and Cicero without comment. They waited through sales of a dozen slaves before Kendrick’s male jann acquaintance was shoved up roughly onto the auction block.

  The bidding was more spirited than it had been on any previous slaves. Apparently, his youth, health, and the known talent of janns for magic made him valuable. Not to mention his obvious physical strength. His brawny body was wreathed in muscles that made him look as strong as an ox.

  Kendrick entered the bidding and refused to be topped. Clearly, he was determined to have this particular slave. Raina suspected that the fellow bidding up the price was in cahoots with the Kithmar, and she tried to tell Kendrick that, but he would not listen to a word she said, so intent was he on winning the auction. Finally, when the price had risen to triple what any other slave had gone for so far, the auctioneer declared the sale.

  Kendrick sighed in relief. But as he counted out his coins to the slaver who came to give him the jann’s leash, despair crossed his face. The elemental fellow’s leash was passed to Kendrick, who immediately handed it over to the jann.

  “I don’t have enough left to buy Marikeen if she goes for a fraction as much as you.”

  The jann replied bitterly, “She’ll go for double or more than I did. I heard the slavers mumbling last night of marking her for Anton’s harem and making him hand over top price for her.”

  Kendrick frowned. “Maybe we can work that to our advantage.” He rushed off to speak with one of the Kithmar, leaving Raina and Cicero standing with the collared and slave-marked jann.

  “Uhh, hello,” she said awkwardly. “I’m Raina. And this is Cicero.”

  “Eben,” the jann replied shortly, his attention on Kendrick.

  What did one say to a slave? Particularly one who was so brusque and seemingly unimpressed by his predicament? So. How did you come to be enslaved? Or, I’m sorry your life is ruined. I hope you have a happy slavery. Stymied, she chose silence.

  Kendrick returned and announced under his breath, “I gave them the rest of my gold in return for their promise to wait a week before selling your sister to Anton. I told them I’d pay double what he offers for slave girls of her ilk.”

  “And they agreed?” Eben asked quickly.

  “Aye. One week. That should be enough time to go home, explain what happened to my father, get the gold we need, and find the slavers.”

  Eben nodded. “Thanks be for my rescue, at any rate.”

  Kendrick replied, “Don’t worry overmuch about Marikeen. The slavers won’t mistreat her or mark her. She’s too valuable unmarred and healthy.”

  Raina glanced over at the jann girl worriedly. Apparently, Marikeen had come to the same conclusion as Kendrick, for she looked supremely unconcerned. She was not chained with the other slaves and had been given a stool to sit upon. Her ankles were chained, but with fleece-covered shackles that would not rub her skin raw.

  Kendrick tried to speak to her, no doubt to let her know he was working on securing her release, but three male Kithmar formed a wall and refused to let him approach her. She smiled jauntily at him and her brother, however.

  Raina had to give Kendrick credit for his efforts to secure his friends’ releases. She’d misjudged him, an unusual mistake for her. Or perhaps it was this new view from the bottom of society looking up that had wrongly colored her initial impression of the impetuous young noble.

  As soon as they left the warehouse, Kendrick used his belt knife to slice the heavy leather collar off Eben’s neck. Raina breathed a sigh of relief along with Eben.

  Kendrick commented sourly, “Yon ritual slave mark may not prove so easy to remove, my friend. Let us try, though, shall we?”

  Kendrick led the party, now increased by Eben’s presence, deeper into the vast capital city to a huge square dominated by a single gigantic guild hall. It was painted a rich royal blue and accented with a gold stars-and-comets motif. It took up the whole of a city block, and she could only stare at its palatial dimensions. She had never seen the like before.

  Raina was careful to completely power down her magic so that not even a hint of glow remained about her hands. The last thing she needed was for this bunch to snatch her off the street and demand that she serve them.

  Funny how fast she’d begun thinking like a peasant. Her reluctance to reveal her magic begged the question of how many peasants with a latent talent for magic hid in the countryside, never developing their skill rather than serve the Empire. For a mage, the only source of training and advancement was usually within the Imperial Mage’s guild—or for those with healing magic, the Heart.

  She supposed, though, that life under the thumb of a guild was preferable to scraping and starving for most people. And after all, what other choice was there? The Empire was pervasive, all-
knowing and all-powerful. She had not realized just how much so until she’d left isolated little Tyrel, tucked away on the edge of nowhere and barely touched by the Kothites and their empire.

  She listened with interest as Kendrick inquired about having Eben’s slave mark removed from his right cheek. Apparently, his chain links would require a second ritual to be taken off. Seventy gold was the price quoted to perform the ritual and provide the components from the guild’s stash. Ritual components were various items magical in nature whose power was drained by a trained mage to achieve a particularly difficult magical effect.

  “And the cost if I provide the components?” Kendrick asked, sounding taken aback.

  Twenty gold was quoted for the casting alone. While Kendrick explained he would have to return home to gather the components and gold, Raina tried to contain her shock. She’d secretly been training to do ritual magic for years, and she’d had no idea the skill was worth so much. Mayhap working for a guild would not be so bad if they would share a reasonable portion of her earnings with her. She dared not ask the Mage’s Guild man any questions, though, lest she draw too much attention of the wrong kind to herself. There must be an indirect means of finding out the guild pay structures.

  “We make haste for my father’s home,” Kendrick announced to her as they emerged from the guild building “You and your man are welcome to spend the night there while you get your bearings in the city,” he offered.

  Raina glanced over at Cicero for his opinion, and he nodded slightly. It was never a bad thing to travel dangerous streets in large parties with multiple swords at hand. Not to mention Kendrick’s noble status would serve to protect them from rude soldiers or roving slavers looking to grab victims illegally.

  She declared, “To your home then, my lord.”