“It takes more than a day to change a world, Llesho. It needs a cause to raise the will of the people to change. Can you do this?”
General Shou’s voice soothed the ache in his heart and the prickling unease that clenched his flesh. So many meanings in the question: “Can you offer Shan a cause to throw off the unclean trade in human lives? Can you walk back into that hell to save your brother?”
Llesho nodded. The last, at least, he could do. He just needed a minute to remember how to breathe. “The pens are empty.”
“The next slave caravan is due tomorrow; the traders should be around somewhere getting things ready for the new arrivals and the sale to follow.”
Llesho shot him a piercing glance and pushed away from the corral. “You seem to know a lot about the slave trade.” Far more than Llesho found comforting.
Shou twitched a shoulder, not quite shrugging. “I keep my eyes open for the odd Thebin prince on the resale market. It’s easier than fighting for them, or stealing them.”
“Is that what you did?” Llesho asked him, thinking back to the battle with Master Markko, and Jaks lying dead. “You fought for me?”
“Not to own you,” Shou clarified his statement. “But to see you succeed.
“Strategy, Llesho. When Markko attacked the governor’s compound at Farshore, why didn’t you stay and fight him there?”
General Shou used a tone of voice that Llesho knew well from his sessions with Lleck, and even the rare discussion with Habiba. No point in bristling at the suggestion of cowardice. The general was trying to teach him something, so he needed to answer the question as stated, not as pride interpreted.
“The governor ordered us to flee,” he said, but Llesho knew that wasn’t the answer Shou was looking for. “Farshore isn’t my war. Thebin is.”
That won him a slight nod. “And to save Thebin, you have to stay alive, and you have to stay free.”
It was Llesho’s turn to nod.
General Shou followed his first question with a second. “What do you think would happen if the emperor tried to shut down the slave market?”
“The slave trade would end,” Llesho answered immediately.
“And the slavers?”
“Would be unhappy, but would have to find something else to trade.”
“The Harn have a habit of turning their displeasure on the one who displeases them.”
The Harn. Who stole or traded for human flesh to sell for money in Shan’s marketplace. Who had laid waste to Thebin.
“The Harn control the high passes and, through them, all the trade that moves between Shan and the West. They hardly need to trade in human lives anymore.”
“For the Harn, the trade value of the slaves they sell has always been secondary.”
Llesho frowned. That didn’t make sense. Oh. Yes, it did. The enemies of the Harn feared not only death in battle, but the public humiliation of the slave block and lives spent in misery. Better to be dead.
The Harn would not give up the trade peacefully, but that did not leave Shan free of responsibility. “If there were no market, there would be no slaves,” Llesho insisted. “If Shan is willing to sell its soul for peace, the Harn have no need for battle. They have already won.”
General Shou met his gaze briefly, then dropped his eyes again. “You shame me,” he said.
“Shan shames you,” Llesho corrected him. “I only point out what is already true.”
“I know. But we cannot resolve the issue today. Did you have a plan for rescuing the prince, your brother?”
“I will need the price of a bid,” Llesho pointed out.
“That is not a problem. I have more money than I have a use for.”
Llesho shook his head. “I didn’t come all this way to trade one master for another, for myself or for Adar.”
“What do you suggest?” General Shou made it clear in his tone that Llesho could offer no other solution. “You have won no purses in the arena, and wouldn’t have the price of your own freedom if her ladyship demanded it.”
“I have this.” Llesho reached into his mouth and plucked out the pearl that Lleck had pressed into the space of his lost tooth. As he drew it out between his fingers, the black pearl returned to its original size, and he had to open his mouth wider to extract it. When he held it out to General Shou, the pearl almost filled the palm of his hand. “Will the slave traders accept the pearl itself as payment, or must I exchange it for money before I approach them?”
“Where did you get that?” General Shou’s voice shook, and his face paled so quickly that Llesho thought the man would faint dead away in the gutter. Shou reached out to touch the gleaming black surface, but pulled back as if it had burned his fingers.
“Lleck gave it to me,” Llesho said. “He was dead at the time. I was in the bay, and he put the pearl in my mouth to hide it, then told me to find my brothers. If it will pay for Adar’s freedom, I consider it well spent.”
“I think not,” the general whispered. He closed Llesho’s own fingers around his treasure, and slowly, as if he acted against his own will, he dropped to one knee and bowed his head over the fist Llesho clasped around the pearl.
“Adar shall be my gift to the goddess,” he said. Rising from his obeisance, he asked, “Does anyone know that you have this?”
Llesho shook his head.
“I am sure Master Markko suspects,” the general muttered. “It would explain his interest in you.” Shou could not pull his gaze from the hand that held the pearl, and Llesho saw the troubled longing in that gaze, and the moment when that soul-deep inner conflict came to rest.
“Tell Master Den,” the general advised him. “Ex plain how you came by it, and stand by his counsel. As for Habiba, Master Den will know what is best. Say nothing to anyone until you have conferred with Master Den.”
Llesho hesitated. He hadn’t wanted to share this secret with anyone, but Shou had caught him off-balance. He didn’t know how he would buy his brother’s freedom without the pearl.
“First, we must see to Adar,” Llesho insisted. “And if we are not going to trade the pearl for his freedom, I am left without a plan.”
“Fortunately, you have a general in your retinue, my prince. As I said, I have the price, and your brother shall be my gift to the goddess. More important, I have a plan for acquiring the prince without arousing suspicion. You will not like it, however.”
“Strategy, General? I thought you honored a trickster god.”
“If winning doesn’t matter to you, we can return to the palace now,” the general shot back. “I know very little about honor, perhaps, but a great deal about winning.”
“So, what is this master plan?”
Shou looked away, and Llesho followed his gaze to the counting house, more solidly built than the dormitory. Llesho would have bet that the roof didn’t leak either.
“The traders and the money counters will be preparing for tomorrow’s shipment. They know me as a merchant and a slave owner. If I demonstrate an interest in Thebins, and ask about a Thebin healer, they may be inclined to open their records for the privilege of brokering the sale.”
“I assume you have a role for me in this charade?” He wasn’t stupid; he’d figured out his part in the game as soon as the general had spoken. It didn’t even surprise him. But he wanted Shou to say it out loud.
The general threw down the challenge with a little smile. He didn’t seem to regret a thing. “You will play my slave, of course. My dear slave. They won’t find you on their books, but haven’t I made much of the urchin once purchased in the market at Wuchow?”
General Shou’s whole posture shifted; his expression grew soft and lost the keen edge that intelligence gave it. He stroked Llesho’s face with a feather-touch of the backs of his fingers, and Llesho flinched like he’d been struck. But he resisted the urge to move away from the touch and even managed to drop his lashes provocatively.
Shou laughed. “I think that should do. Just try not to kill me befo
re we’ve found your brother.”
Kill him, no. But he had questions for this master of disguise—like why a general would need such skills. Answers would have to wait. Llesho didn’t like it, but he couldn’t afford to anger his only chance to secure Adar’s freedom.
When he had last been to the slave market, Llesho had known only the dormitory and the holding pens, and the block in the market square. Unlike the parts of it he had seen, the countinghouse had a sturdy air. Inside, dark and solid wood gave weight to the entry hall. There were no chairs, but a gong on a small table invited the visitor to announce his presence. General Shou, playing the part of a merchant and slave connoisseur, struck the gong with its muffled hammer. A small woman with greased-back hair and a voluminous coat quickly answered the call, sliding open a panel to the inner chambers with a low bow.
“Your wish, good sir?” she asked, peering up at General Shou with a simper. She had the sharp, carved features of the Harn; Llesho’s flesh crawled at the sight of her.
Shou took a moment to pet Llesho with a fatuous grin on his face before addressing the trader.
“I have developed a partiality for Thebins,” he smirked. “And I am in the market to buy.”
The woman gave Llesho a knowing leer, but schooled her features to a thoughtful frown before answering Shou’s question.
“It may be difficult to serve the master if he wishes a match for the boy. The age is in demand across types, and one must make a profit where one can, you understand. Our entire stock, except for special orders, must go to the block. I could get you a good price for this one, though, and we can place an order for a set, if you’d like: two boys, or a girl and a boy if you prefer. Special orders, for which we must charge a premium, you understand, take at least six months to fill, but I am sure we could make an arrangement for resale of this one after the replacements arrive. Subject to the usual, of course. Contract is void if property is destroyed or damaged in a manner that negatively effects market value.”
By the time the old flesh peddler had run down, Llesho was trembling under General Shou’s hand. The general gave his shoulder a warning squeeze, but he needn’t have worried. Llesho’s rage and terror seemed to please the woman.
“He still has spunk. That’s unusual. Some would pay extra for that, if he isn’t broken before they take possession.”
“I did not come to sell,” Shou reminded her. “And I am not looking for another young one. The upkeep, you know. Eating all the time at this age, and far too much energy for an old man like me.”
He smiled sweetly, and the trader replied with a flattering comment on the gentleman’s youth, but quickly deferred to his taste. “Of course. What would you prefer, then, good sir?”
“I have several Thebins in my retinue, and would like to purchase a healer of their kind to tend to their needs, and perhaps offer my house the novelty of his advice,” Shou answered. “Medicine is an especial passion of mine.”
“And Thebin healers are reputed to have a special knowledge of herbs that ease the mind,” she added conspiratorially. “Of course, healers are likewise rare—even rarer than boys! Frankly, I don’t expect to see one in tomorrow’s selection. I could be wrong, though. Would you like me to send a note to your dwelling with the particulars about likely merchandise in the morning?”
“No need,” General Shou answered. “I will send a servant for your list myself. In the meantime, perhaps if you have record of Thebin healers in the area, a current owner might be interested in a brokered sale?”
The trader considered him for a moment. “I have been a part of this market for more than ten summers,” she said, “and can remember only two Thebin healers to cross our block. Three if you count a woman herbalist with a reputation for poisons.”
“I would be interested in either of the two reputable healers,” Shou agreed, and added, “I have an expert in poisons on my staff already, and would not trust such a sensitive task to a Thebin anyway.”
“Wise, sir.” She considered him thoughtfully, watching the glitter of jewels on the fingers of the hand absently toying with Llesho’s hair. “If sir is not concerned about the price, perhaps we can be of service.”
“I am very rich,” General Shou flirted with his wealth. “And I can indulge my whims.”
The trader led them down a hall so luxuriously appointed that even the clink of coins from the strong room whispered in subdued tones. Finally, she slid aside a screen and led them into an elegant room lined with shelves on which scrolls were piled.
“Have a seat,” she invited him. General Shou took the proffered chair and glared at Llesho when he would have taken another. Llesho bit off the comment that had almost leaped from his lips, and stood behind the general. Steeling himself to the intimate gesture, he rested his hand on the general’s shoulder, which won him a sweet smile. The general placed a hand over Llesho’s, holding it steady, and gave the Harn trader his attention once again.
“Here we have it.” She ran a finger quickly down a list, explaining, “We keep a record of the special ones by skill and by origin. Crossing the two lists, I can locate your preferred merchandise. And here, two, like I said.”
She lifted a scroll from a high dusty shelf and another from a shelf lower down, on which no dust had settled. “No,” she corrected herself. “Not two Thebin healers, but one, a slave with the name Adar, traded some nine summers ago. The same came to block again about three summers ago, when the original buyer lost his property to debauchery. Had a reputation for being headstrong, as I recall, but that had been beaten out of him by the time he came to market again. Yeesss. That’s the one. About thirty-five summers, so he is too old to pair with your boy for a pretty set, but we can work on that in a separate order for you.”
Llesho shuddered for his brother. For much of the period of his bondage Llesho’s treatment had been harsh and debasing, but until Markko he had never been singled out for personal humiliation by his owner. He had hoped that Adar had fared better. Now he hoped only to see his brother alive through whatever damage slavery had done him. The general’s pressure on his hand warned him against voicing some protest.
“I am sure you will strike a fair bargain for me, Mistress Trader.” Shou rose from his chair and bowed.
“Fair for rare.” She reminded him that the price would be high.
Shou returned her a casual shrug. “I will not barter the boy, but your owner may state his price in gold or silver. You will, of course, add your percentage to the price.”
“As you will, Master.” She wrote out a note to confirm the commission and handed it to the general, then wrote another and called for a servant, who attended her at once.
“I will see you tomorrow, then, good sir?” She led the way to the front of the countinghouse, and opened the sliding panel into the entry room again.
“Tomorrow,” General Shou promised, and with a last bow, he waited until Llesho had opened the door for him, and they departed.
“You did that very smoothly,” Llesho commented when they were well away from the countinghouse.
“Is that a compliment on my skills as an actor, or an accusation that I own slaves.
“You tell me.”
The general huffed an exhalation—whether of guilt or frustration, Llesho could not tell. Shou kept his face clear of all expression.
“If you are asking, do I own slaves, the answer is ‘yes,’ though I believe I have always behaved honorably toward them.”
They had entered the market square. Llesho noted the noise and bustle at the edges of his awareness, but his senses had tunneled down to one focus: the slave block at the market’s center leaked blood around the edges of his vision. “I don’t see how you can use the words ‘slave’ and ‘honor’ in the same statement,” he objected.
“Old customs are hard to break.” It seemed that Shou was trying to justify his actions, but his next words were a surprise: “Lately, though, I have come to believe you may be right. For the most part, however, it was
acting.”
“I think that worries me more.” Llesho didn’t look at the general. He would see only the face Shou wanted him to, so looking for clues in the man’s eyes or the depth of the lines above his brow seemed pointless. “I don’t know what to trust of your motives. Have you lied to me as easily as you lied to the slave trader?”
“Not as easily or as well as I would have liked, obviously, or you would trust me more.” The general laughed. “Are you hungry?”
For a moment Llesho wondered if General Shou had simply lost his mind. But he was hungry. Very. The smells coming from the food stalls on his left reminded him that he’d had breakfast a long time ago, and he’d eaten nothing since. The general gave him a shove in the direction of those wonderful smells, and suddenly Llesho’s awareness of his surroundings opened up.
The market square was huge. He had thought so looking out on it from the slave block as a child, and his impression of its size hadn’t changed much. Now, however, he was conscious of the excitement buzzing in the colors and the noise and the smells. This, much more than the square in front of the palace, seemed to be the center of Shan. They passed a booth where bits of meat were roasting on skewers over an open flame, but the general didn’t stop.
“He has no butcher’s bill, and his shop is remarkably free of rats,” General Shou explained.
He went farther, toward a stall surrounded by customers pressing their demands for service. He waved a hand with two fingers raised at the fat old woman behind the counter, on which a variety of fillings sat beside a stack of flatbreads. The woman smiled her recognition, and had their order ready by the time they had cut through the crowd to reach her.
“Little Shou!” she hailed him. “I do not see you for a full summer, and you appear at my stall hungry as ever and with an outlander at your heels! What have you been up to this time?”
“I’ve traveled the wide world ‘round looking for the equal to your flatbread, Darit, and found only a friend to share your treasure with.”
The Prince of Shadow Page 40