Prophecy mtg-3

by Vance Moore

  "Keep your distance, sir," Fumash said almost primly and handed another document to Haddad. "Two birds close together can mean a nest and something hatching, as any bird watcher could tell you." The man's chin jerked to the crowd and the Keldons organizing the square.

  "Bird watching is an excellent hobby, though it is quite dangerous around here. A man would get only a few miles before something snapped him up." Haddad kept his tone light and stared through the paper as he jerked his chin briefly at the growing organization in front of them. "Perhaps bird watching might be easier at sea. If the watcher knew how to use a boat." Haddad was a landsman through and through, but the dangers of fleeing overland seemed too great. Better to risk the unknown.

  "A man familiar with boats might spot quite a few birds if he was far enough out to sea. The waters around here are too dangerous, but out where there is sea, one might spot all manner of interesting birds. And of course, many shores are safer for the bird watcher than this one." Fumash took the paper out of Haddad's hands and stood up, folding the paper and placing it in his wallet. "I myself will be putting to sea in the near future, accompanying Lord Druik back to Keld. I might do some bird watching, looking for nocturnal flyers. Perhaps you will accompany your mistress on the trip as well. It would be very useful to have someone besides myself helping me, carrying supplies, jotting down notes and so forth." Fumash finished arranging his kit and then waved as if to someone in the crowd. Haddad accepted the information that he might be dragged thousands of miles without blinking an eye.

  "Perhaps we will be able to find something interesting at sea." Haddad also stood and waved to the crowd in general before following the little man down. Of course, considering the number of people Haddad had seen devoured by parea, no one would have accepted his interest in bird watching as likely. The habits of deception were becoming engrained in Haddad as well.

  Haddad went only yards before another slave hailed him.

  "Latulla has tasked all members of her household to finish unloading the barge. Absence will be noted and punished, so you best get there quick." The slave pointed to the emblem on Haddad's clothes and continued on his way, looking for other members of the house who had not received the news.

  Haddad stepped smartly, knowing the thoroughness with which Latulla could express herself. He had not been on the docks themselves, only viewed them from a distance. The pier was rough and already showing signs of weathering and peeling that signaled the hurried construction. The Keldons suffered that failing on many construction projects that used locally "acquired" labor.

  There were two ships at dock. The overseer of the nearest asked Haddad his name and marked it off a list. He was relieved to see that he was not the last to arrive and should escape Latulla's displeasure. He was waved to the ship farther down the dock. It was wide with stubby masts fore and aft, and it was tied to a thick bollard on the pier. Haddad expected to see the stub of a broken middle mast, but instead there were a series of hatches. He joined a work party and passed a line of slaves carrying sacks that strained their backs, turning their faces bright red. Haddad couldn't help thinking that a crane would be of more use here than stuck in the bogs farther inland.

  The crew chief called them around and shouted over the groans of the other work parties.

  "We will be assisting a mage moving warriors out of stasis. Work as directed, and you may ask questions freely. We will have no accidents. Any accident or damage to the warriors will be severely punished. Now come on." He turned and walked down a steep stairway that led to the hold. The chief cuffed and bludgeoned his way through the slaves, then led Haddad and the rest below decks.

  The hold was dark, and they went to a corner farthest from the light. A comparatively slender Keldon sat on his heels as slaves removed the last of several sacks from pallets and moved everything away from the hull. All Haddad could think of was coffins as he looked at several dozen long narrow crates stacked and tied down with cargo netting. They were even corralled by brackets secured to the body of the ship itself.

  "Move the first one down carefully," the overseer instructed.

  Haddad noticed that all the slaves were in good shape and took it as another sign of the value of the cargo. Four men moved in concert, talking to each other as they carefully unhooked the nets and unscrewed the brackets that locked the crates into a single static unit. They moved the top crate slowly onto a set of supports. The crew boss broke the seals and swung the lid open. A Keldon warrior in full armor, weapons, and other gear filled the interior of the crate.

  "What the nine hells is going on?" he whispered to the man beside him. Given permission to ask questions, he was definitely going to take advantage.

  "Just watch. It will all become obvious in a minute," the slave replied, though he too looked on in obvious interest.

  The Keldon mage rose off his heels and approached the body. The slaves cleared away though they stayed close in case they were needed. The mage reached under his cloak and pulled out a censer and tinderbox. It took him a moment to light the censer, then he swung it just over the head of the still warrior in very small arcs. The smoke poured into the crate slowly, like thick honey, and seemed to be absorbed by the body. The mage chanted quietly but lacked the tension that Latulla exhibited when she practiced magic. When the apparent corpse opened his eyes and began to breathe deeply, Haddad was startled but not totally surprised.

  "Welcome to the Land of Heroes," the mage said and continued to swing the smoking censer. "It will be at least a few minutes before you may rise. You and your brothers will find glory and honor in these lands."

  The crew chief motioned for another crate to be set down.

  "I am always surprised they wake up from that sleep," the slave standing beside Haddad commented as they waited their turn to work. Already another crate was being opened.

  "The first time I thought it necromancy, as did you, I am sure." The sailor looked not much older than Haddad, but he sounded richly paternal as he shared knowledge with one who was ignorant.

  "Keld is thousands of miles away, and they don't have the greatest ships despite their reputation as pirates. They could never ship enough people and supplies to this base without some tricks up their sleeves. The warriors without sufficient rank or power are boxed up like cargo and shipped here. They ingest a philter of a drug that freezes them in a deathlike state. The warriors lie down in crates, are dusted with certain powders, and then sealed up. They travel here without having to eat, drink, or engage in other activities."

  The mage was chanting again and swinging the censer.

  "A magic user isn't even necessary. It's the smoke that does the job. I've seen crewmen wake up warriors in transit without any magic at all. Just a match and a handful of leaves."

  The crew boss waved Haddad and three others to replace the previous team. Haddad instantly realized why the slaves were all in good condition and were being rotated on the detail. The crate was solidly constructed, and the Keldon inside was not light. The slaves all exercised great care, realizing that their punishment would be swift and sure should they mishandle anything. Even with the weight and danger of punishment, the job soon became simple repetition. However, as Haddad and his crew reached the bottom layer of crates, the job became anything but routine.

  Haddad was opening a crate, and as he began to lever up the lid, he noticed the smell. The stink of the bilge prevented his nose from noticing before. It was semisweet, but it tickled the back of his throat, and he had to repress the urge to gag. Remembering the permission granted him to ask questions, he spoke to the overseer.

  "I think there's a problem here."

  The crew boss was talking quietly to other workers on the detail but came over instantly at Haddad's interruption. The mage also rose from his crouch and approached.

  "What is it?" the Keldon demanded.

  "It's an odor, Lord. It is only noticeable up close but seems very strong," Haddad explained.

  They had been working for quit
e some time, and the hold was deserted. The mage called for another light to be lit so he could see the crate. He held the lantern and inspected the crate closely. His cry of anger drove most of the other slaves away. Haddad knew it was dangerous, but he had to know what provoked such a reaction. The mage turned and loomed over Haddad, his face flushed and dark as a storm cloud.

  "Get it open, right now!" he hissed, trying to reign in the usual Keldon impulse to take out anger on his inferiors.

  Haddad silently set the point of his crowbar into the latches and threw his weight onto it. Unlike the earlier crates, there was no rush or puff of air as a seal was broken. The smell grew stronger as he worked the other latches, each release seemed more odorous than the last. When the last catch was thrown, the mage could restrain himself no longer. He reached past Haddad's shoulder and threw the lid wide open.

  It took Haddad's eyes a moment to evaluate the contents of the crate. The slaves with the lamps retreated as Haddad tried to puzzle out what the warrior was wearing. Then a lamp holder moved closer, and the technician could see clearly. The coffin was alive with insects and maggots. The insignificant creatures retreated under and into the body as the light drove them to cover. The features of the warrior were twisted, and he seemed to grimace as parasites under the shrunken skin moved. Haddad looked on in horror for only a moment and then turned his head aside. He fell to his hands and knees. Everything he had eaten that morning spewed out as spasms racked his body. When Haddad could finally stand, he could see the other slaves had retreated away from the mage. The Keldon's body radiated tension that usually signaled magic. The less knowledgeable slaves saw it as blinding rage. Haddad wondered which it was as he spat and tried to clear his mouth, wishing vainly for some water.

  "Filth," was all the mage said as his hand pointed at the corpse, but Haddad felt the flash of heat rising from the crate. The sound of the body cooking and the destruction of the parasites in the crate were the only sounds. Haddad could see the wide eyes of the other slaves as they realized the danger of such magic in the confines of the ship's hold. Then the smell of meat cooking hit his nostrils and sent him to his knees again. He could think of nothing as his body tried to empty a vacant stomach.

  Shouts of panic, Keldon panic, made him look up after vain attempts to be sick. One of the awakened Keldons had heard the commotion and then had seen the body and its heat treatment. At the sight of a magic user destroying the contents of a transport crate, the warrior drew a long knife.

  "What are you doing?" he screamed, tottering forward to threaten violence. "Warriors to me!" The strange sounds and odors from the hold were ignored by the deck crew, but a direct Keldon appeal for aid brought several sailors with knives sliding down ladders and stairs into the hold, throwing slaves out of the way to reach the mage and the warrior.

  "Stop!" the magic user said loudly. "This crate was infested, and the occupant was dead. The slaves can confirm it." Haddad and the rest nodded their heads and prayed to be outside as several Keldons swore and looked at them closely.

  "There may be other crates whose protections were violated," the mage continued. He pointed to a Keldon sailor. "Go to the Artificer Latulla, and tell her to come with a group of controlled slaves here." The sailor departed at a run.

  "Take these other slaves on deck and hold them there," the magic user directed. "Latulla may wish to interrogate them."

  The Keldon sailors immediately began to cuff and shove Haddad and his fellow slaves toward the main stair. The slaves ran up the steps quickly as the sailors relayed the order to hold them on the ship. The slaves were hustled forward until they were in the bow. They crowded against a set of holed benches over the water, and Haddad realized they were in the latrine.

  The slaves sat down en masse, and no one spoke. Haddad could clearly see the gangplank. Latulla strode aboard and into the hold, closely followed by a group of slaves. Each slave wore a bracer or armband of metal. Haddad had seen slaves throughout the camp with such but never assigned much meaning to it. Now he realized that it conferred some special status, and he wondered what that status was. The mage requested controlled slaves even though Haddad and the others showed no sign of rebellion whatsoever. How were these new slaves different? What power did the Keldons have over these slaves beyond what they held over Haddad? He pondered these questions in silence as the day passed.

  Throughout the day slaves used the facilities so conveniently close by as they waited in the sun. Water and food appeared, and Haddad nodded his thanks as a cook's assistant for the ship distributed rations. One brave or foolish slave started to ask what was happening, and the butt of a Keldon spear hit his temple before more than a few words issued from his mouth. Haddad and another man lifted him up and carried him to the very bow of the ship. They signaled another slave to keep him quiet and hoped that any sound the man made when he regained consciousness would be too quiet to invite more punishment.

  Night arrived, and as the guards changed, the cook's assistant passed out blankets and more food and water. Haddad knew from the anxiety on the man's face that he was doing it without any orders and wondered at the man's quiet courage in caring for others.

  At midnight there was a guard change, and Haddad thought he recognized the soldiers. They were among those awakened from stasis during the day. They seemed to stare at the opening to the hold more than they watched the prisoners. Haddad could guess what they thought. Each guard must be thinking about how easily he might have died. Two of the warriors talked, only stopping when other Keldons came close.

  "How could it have happened?" asked one. "I was told it was safe."

  "It is safe!" the other excitedly replied. "I have been in stasis several times, and there were no problems. I know warriors who were down as long as a year and there were no deaths." The more experienced warrior looked coldly at the slaves sitting on deck and spoke quietly, though Haddad could still hear him.

  "I think it was sabotage," the guard said. "Someone put those insects in or violated the seals to kill the warrior inside. It may have even been done during the voyage by one of these slaves." Both warriors were fingering their weapons now. Haddad wanted to explain there was no way he could be guilty, but three things held him back. First, he would be passing blame onto other slaves. Second, he was glad to think that a slave had killed a warrior and probably got away with it. Third, drawing attention was suicide in the presence of two angry Keldons. Haddad felt relief when the guards were replaced. The new warriors were not so vocal in their suspicions, though their hands caressed the hilts of their swords. Finally, too bored and cold to worry, Haddad drifted off to sleep.

  Chapter 7

  "Get up! Get up!" The shouting woke Haddad, and he scrambled to his feet. A sailor stood before the slaves. Crewmembers helped stiff longshoremen up and collected the blankets and the buckets of fresh water provided them the night before.

  "You are to return to your quarters and say nothing of what you have seen or heard. Tell your master that you have been ordered by the Artificer Latulla to reveal nothing." The sailor pointed to a man setting up a table and book by the gangplank. "Give your name and master before leaving the ship, so your story may be confirmed. Now get off the ship."

  Haddad was in back, and it took quite some time before he was walking down the gangplank and toward Latulla's quarters. Though the sun was still being born in the east, the docks were crowded. Wagon after wagon lined up along the streets and every driver cursed the delay. The ships were reloading as crews and longshoremen toted their loads aboard. Once a wagon was empty, it was put to work hauling away cargo from ships that came in the day before. Haddad wondered at the level of activity, because usually it was days unloading a ship, and the screaming Keldon overseers wanted it done in hours.

  He struggled his way through the current of wagons and slaves. When he arrived at Latulla's quarters, he found the gatehouse open. He could see wagons being loaded by exhausted members of the household. Lamps and torches were still set out and
burning. From the faces of Haddad's fellow servants, the work had been going on all night.

  "Haddad! Where the devil have you been?" screamed Briach. The chief servant was drawn and his eyes red with lack of sleep. He stepped toward Haddad, his hand going up for a cuff, but Haddad snarled back. The technician was too tired and aching from a night on deck to take abuse from another slave.

  "I was kept by Latulla's orders, and that is all you need to know!" Haddad clenched his fist and tried to rein in his temper, but he found it difficult. "Where is Latulla? I will need to report to her now that I've finally been released."

  Briach's face went still as he took in Haddad's defiance. "You will find the mistress in her workshop." Briach gestured to the outbuilding up against the compound wall. Haddad turned without a word and strode off, kicking the ground in anger.

  "Keep a civil tongue, or she'll have it out," Briach called after him when he was a safe distance away. Haddad heard only the rumble of hunger from his stomach and wondered if he would be able to find a meal in the chaos of the morning.

  Latulla was directing the packing of various projects as

  Haddad entered the workshop. The shutters were thrown wide, and lamps were burning, but it was still dim inside. Haddad did not know the slaves in the room by name, but he recognized them as the banded slaves from the night before. They must have arrived with the ships just come in, and they had already displaced Latulla's regular helpers. Once again Haddad wondered what special talents they possessed.

  "Finally you're here, Haddad." Latulla turned around, her hands full with apparatus that she was packing herself. "We are leaving with the fleet in only a few hours. Pack up your tools and manuals and anything else you will need for working on war machines. Bring the instruments you would need for fine work."

  Haddad turned and slowly walked toward the locked cabinets holding his personal gear and tools. All the cabinets were open, and manuals and workboxes from other members of his old unit lay out. His eyes misted as he looked on the remnants of his former life.