"We aren't locked in. All we have to do is poke the dragon in the eye if we want to get out."
Comfort gave her an "are you mad?" look.
"The door will open," Repentance said, "But we have nowhere to go. This is the safest place in the city for us."
She looked at the door. It struck her that one of the reasons she was so desperate to leave the swamp was that she never felt safe there. She'd always been afraid that one day the overlords would come for her, or someone she loved. No one was safe in the swamp. She thought she'd rather get into the slave cart of her own free will than have to keep living in fear that they would come for her one day.
But she would never really be safe unless she was free. And she would never be free if she left Sober to die alone.
"But that man," Comfort said. "Lord Carrull. He will come back for us? Someday?"
Repentance crawled over to Comfort and leaned against her knees. "He will come back for you. I ... may not be here."
"Where will you be?" Her sister's tone was high-pitched and anxious.
"Sober saved me by breaking me out of the dungeon two days ago. Then he saved me again this afternoon by jumping on that wagon and setting you free. I have to try to save him."
"How will you do that? Where will you go?"
"I'll have to go to the palace. It's the Moonlight Festival. I'll be able to sneak in." She pulled over the trunk of clothes Starved had brought in. "I wonder what kind of disguise I can come up with."
Comfort joined her. "I'll come with you."
"You'll stay here," Repentance said matter-of-factly.
"Sober saved my life, too. I want to help him." She gave Repentance her stubborn look. "Besides, there is not a way in the swamp ... no way on this Providence-forsaken mountain, are you leaving me in this room all by myself."
Repentance sighed. And nodded. She'd left Comfort once. She couldn't do it again. But then again she couldn't very well take her into the dungeon, either. She needed to think. There had to be a way for her to keep Comfort safe.
If you fail to take a weapon when you beard the lion in his den, you should hardly be surprised when he decides to eat you for dinner.
~Professor Pottamous Scroll, Harthill University
Chapter 36
The trunk was full of fine overlord clothes and rough slave clothes all mixed together. Costumes Lord Carrull had apparently collected as disguises for the slaves he smuggled out of the city.
Repentance considered a pair of flannel trousers.
Comfort rubbed her cheek against a velvet gown. "I never imagined material this soft. And look at this!" She rubbed her hand over the nap, changing the material from dark to light and back to dark again.
Repentance nodded absently. "But look at these." She held up the trousers. Aren't they nice?"
Comfort wrinkled her nose. "You're going dressed as a boy?"
"I was thinking you might. You have the short hair already. We'd just have to trim it a bit."
Comfort put a hand to her ill-cut hair, looking like she might cry.
Repentance hugged her. "I know. I know. It's too much. You've been dragged off and paraded in front of a mob. You've been scared and threatened and pushed and pulled and forced here and there." The thought of Calamity flashed into her mind. "You've seen unspeakable brutalities. And on top of all that, I chopped off your beautiful hair. It will grow back, though." If we live.
"I'm being silly. A bad haircut is the least of our troubles."
"It's the final indignity. Anyone with any heart at all would be overwhelmed by it. But you're right. In the end it matters for nothing whether we have long hair or short. I think we should both go as boys tonight. The troopers will be looking for two girls."
Comfort looked at her, eyes round. "You're going to cut your hair?"
"You're going to cut it for me."
Three hours later a royal overlord boy, dressed in tan suede knickers with a matching jerkin, slipped out of Lord Carrul's house by way of the alley door. His slave, a well-dressed boy in flannel trousers with leather boots and a wool vest, followed a few steps behind. Darkness had already fallen.
The jerkin Repentance wore was a little out of fashion, being a size too big and loose-fitting, but it covered her shape without showing any curves and the largeness of it made her look small—like a boy in his twelfth or thirteenth year. And that was good as her voice was not deep enough to sound like it belonged to one who had already ripened into manhood. Her hair was cut shorter than Sober's. When she'd looked in the reflecting stone she couldn't believe how large her eyes seemed in her small face. But it had to be that short. If she turned her head the right way her birthmark was visible. The troopers were looking for a runaway female slave. And if she knew the prince, he hadn't bothered to tell anyone that the slave bore the royal birthmark.
She would pass this night as a member of the royal house come over from Norbank for the feast—a nephew to Lord Baldin—and her birthmark may be needed to purchase her way into the palace.
Of course, she traveled with her slave.
Comfort, once she accepted the idea, played her part to the full. She'd smudged a little ash into her cheeks and chin to make herself look work worn and she held her mouth in a tight line—no sign of Comfort's plump, red lips in Vengeance, the slave's, serious face.
Comfort walked a step behind her master. They turned the corner onto the main thoroughfare, which was clotted with small groups of people. The sound of singing drifted from the pub. The mountain magic was flowing, apparently, despite the lack of a good swinging to get everyone in the mood for drink. She and Comfort fell in behind a trail of people, working their way to the palace.
As they wound through the city streets more and more people filed in from side streets. Many of them were wrapped in lava-cloth cloaks or shawls and Repentance mentally kicked herself for forgetting how chilly the mountain could get once the sun went down. She shoved her cold hands into the pockets of her jerkin.
By the time they reached the palace gates, they were shuffling along with a good-sized throng. There were not many richly dressed overlords in the crowd. Most of those rode in carts. Repentance hoped the fact that she was just a boy would make people overlook the fact that an overlord noble was walking alongside the commoners. She was obviously a foreigner with her dark complexion. She hoped the people in the crowd would allow for her presence, figuring that overlords in Norbank did things differently from overlords in Harthill. A few people gave her odd looks, but most simply shrugged and moved on. They were looking forward to a night of food and drink and goodwill, and they apparently didn't have time to wonder about the young nobleman in their midst.
Two troopers stood at the palace gates, watching the crowd.
A prickly feeling ran over Repentance when she saw them and the collar of her white silk shirt felt too tight. She forced herself to slow her breathing. Surely no one was expecting her to break into the palace grounds. Not after she'd gone to such extremes to run away.
She and Comfort followed the crowd, shuffling through the gates without incident. On feast nights all were welcome, apparently.
They traveled up the long drive. As she drew nearer the palace, Repentance surveyed the set-up. She came to the slave tables first—she saw several of the palace slaves already seated. As she moved on, she saw the poor overlord tables, and then the rich overlord tables. Finally she arrived at the tables for royalty. Past those, right in front of the palace's main entrance, was the platform—still vacant, thank Providence—where the king and his family should sit.
In between the royal tables and the royal platform was a bonfire, on both sides of which jugglers entertained a mixed crowd that looked to be mostly comprised of slave children and poor overlord children.
Repentance, with Comfort following dutifully, circled back toward the slave tables. It wouldn't do for an overlord prince to mix with the slaves, so Repentance stayed in the main walkway. There were booths set up on both sides of the walkway. O
ver the curtained doorways hung signs that said things like, Madam Menntiss, Moon Magician: five beads for your future, or, Madam Lilliberrn, Lunar Enlightenment: if you don't like your fortune you keep your beads in your pocket. One booth sold jewelry—bracelets dangling with moon charms and necklaces made of blue moonstones. Another sold mooncloth.
Just past Madam Lilliberrn's booth, was a booth with no sign and no curtain hanging in the doorway. She casually peeked in and found it empty. Drawing off to the side of that booth, she surveyed the slave tables.
And there he was. Shamed. He sat next to Blustering, halfway down one of the tables. They both had jugs in front of them and they were in the middle of an animated conversation.
Repentance whispered to Comfort, "Do you see that slave right there—the one closest to us?" She nodded toward Shamed. "I need you to get him for me. Tell him Tigen needs to see him. Don't let anyone else hear. I'll be waiting right behind this booth."
"Tigen needs him," Comfort repeated.
"And wait there until he comes back. We don't want a crowd here, drawing attention. Sit with the other slave, his name is Blustering, and drink a jug with him."
When Shamed arrived a few minutes later, he glanced around. Not seeing Tigen, he started to leave.
"Wait, Shamed," Repentance said.
Shamed looked at her. "Excuse me?"
Repentance looked at him intently. "Don't you know me?"
"Should I know you? There's something familiar about you." Shamed squinted, then gasped. "Do you have a sister? You look like a lady I once knew."
Repentance put her finger to her lips to quiet him. "I am the lady you once knew," she whispered. "A lady you once helped. I'm hoping you'll help me again."
"Repentance! Your hair!" Then he stepped back, aghast. "What are you doing here?"
"Where is Sober?"
A pained look crossed Shamed's face. "He's in the dungeon. Generosity took him a bowl of soup earlier. She said he's broken up bad."
"I need to get to him."
His eyes shot wide open. "You need to get out of Harthill. The king is gone, who knows where, and the prince has whipped his troopers into a frenzy looking for you. Word is ... " he faltered.
"Tell me!"
"Word is that Sober is to swing at first light. I've also heard that the Hot Springs slavers have been moving the strongest villagers out, taking them on slave carts for auction. They don't want to lose all their inventory."
Repentance put her hand to her mouth to hold back the bile that was rising in her throat.
"You need to get away, Repentance, but whatever you do, don't go back to Hot Springs."
She swallowed. "I can't do anything for the people in the village. But I can free Sober."
A look of horror filled Shamed's face. "If you stay here, you'll swing with him and I can tell you this, true as true, Repentance. If he thinks you're safe, he'll die happy. If you want to torture the man, get yourself caught and swing by his side."
"Do you know if the boat is still docked at Mist Lake?"
"You're crazy!"
"Is it there?"
"Broken up and burned the day after you escaped. Are you trying to kill yourself? The place is thick with nobles and troopers."
Repentance nodded, stepped forward and hugged him. "I know. And I hate to ask you this when you've already done so much for me, but I have to ask you to do something more."
He looked at her, waiting.
"The boy who gave you the message to meet Tigen?"
He glanced at Comfort, still at the slave table, talking to Blustered.
"That's not really a boy. It's my sister, Comfort."
He shook his head. "Why would you bring her here?"
"She wouldn't stay behind. Listen to me, I don't have a lot of time. She belongs to Mistress Merricc. If something happens to me, and I don't come back for her tonight, will you hide her in the barn for a couple of weeks? At your first opportunity, let whoever comes from Mistress Merricc's farm know that you have Comfort. They'll smuggle her out."
"Calamity's so old he can barely find his own mouth with a spoon. How will he smuggle a slave out of the city?"
She winced. "Calamity is dead."
"What?"
"Will you watch out for Comfort, please? If the prince catches me tonight he won't care about Comfort. No one will be looking for her. After a couple of weeks things will calm down and Mistress Merricc will be able to get her out."
He nodded. "I'll try."
She kissed his cheek. "I know you'll do your best. Go back now and keep her busy so she won't try to follow me."
"What are you going to do?"
"I'm going to sneak into that dungeon, open Sober's door, and sneak back out again."
"Providence smiles on courage. Are you being courageous or just plain foolish, is the question." Shaking his head, obviously putting her in the latter category, he turned to leave.
"Shamed?"
He turned back.
"Tell Comfort I love her."
She strode off without a backward glance, a few stray tears freezing in her eyelashes.
As she neared the bonfire, the sound of musicians warming up their instruments filled the chilly mountain air. The jugglers had traded in their balls and were throwing flaming torches back and forth. Repentance saw a familiar face in the crowd of children watching. Tigen. He was up front and laughing. Always in the middle of the action, that one.
She wished she could talk to him one last time.
Swallowing that desire, she ducked around back of the palace and entered through the washroom.
Peeking around the doorway into the kitchen, she saw a snake's nest of activity. Cook bustled about in the middle of it all, giving orders to scores of slaves with pitchers and slaves with trays. Repentance moved over to the hall door, praying for the traffic to slow down enough so she could sneak down the hall and into the great room above the dungeons.
"Who are you?" someone said from behind her.
She nearly jumped from her boots.
Turning, she found Tigen, gazing at her intently.
"I saw you come around back of the—" he broke off with a gasp. "My Lady?"
She shook her head. "How can you know me?"
"You look like a boy."
"I'm supposed to look like a boy. I don't want anyone to know I'm here."
"Why are you here?"
"I need to get into the dungeon."
"What for?"
"Sober."
He nodded. "Wait."
Before she could answer, he disappeared into the kitchen. He reappeared in a few moments, handed Repentance a jug of mountain magic, and disappeared a second time. He returned with a tray of food. "Come on. We can pretend we're taking food to the dungeon master."
"I can't walk down that hallway. Look at all those slaves."
"Slaves don't look ever look at overlords they don't know," Tigen said. "They'll look down at the floor when you walk by."
She bent and kissed his cheek. He was so smart and so good.
He grabbed a short paddle from the tool bucket in the washroom and tucked it under his arm. "We need something to knock the door handle off with."
She was skeptical. "That's how you got the door open when you rescued me?'
He nodded. "You hit the door handles dead center, and they pop right through the door into the cell." He stepped into the hall. She followed, ignoring the slaves they passed and being ignored in turn. Into the great room they went and across it to the stairway, which led down into the cold dungeon.
"When we get down halfway, let me go ahead to make sure the corridor is clear." Tigen said.
They headed down the stairs, Repentance's throat constricting as the air grew colder and the memory of empty hours in her cold, dark cell flooded her mind. They got to the landing where the stairs switched back, and Tigen stopped. He handed Repentance the stir paddle, took the jug of Mountain Magic, and motioned for her to stay put while he descended alone.
&n
bsp; "What's this, then?" a man's deep voice floated up the stairs.
Tigen gave a little squeal. "You surprised me," he said. "Why are you sitting in the cold hallway?"
The deep voice answered. "The last dungeon master never sat in the hallway, did he? He was always in his quarters, wasn't he? That's why his quarters are my quarters now."
"I didn't know. Well, I brought you a trickle of food and drink for you to celebrate the feast."
"Food and drink, you say?"
"Come, open your door and I'll put it in your quarters," Tigen said. "You don't want to eat it out here in the cold."
"And why are you suddenly so concerned about what I eat and where?
"Cook said it wouldn't do to forget anyone on Feast night."
"Cook sends little boys to do her bidding these days, eh? Where's the slave girl what usually brings my food? I'm supposing you are up to some mischief of the kind what will end with my body swinging at the end of a rope."
Blood pounded in Repentance's ears.
"If you aren't hungry now I'll leave it in your quarters," Tigen said. "You can eat it later."
Repentance crouched on the step before the landing and craned her neck, peering around the corner of the stairs. She could see Tigen's back as he stood before a desk. As soon as he got the man into his quarters, she could shoot down the stairs and past him.
"That makes a likely compromise," the dungeon master said. "I'll take you into my quarters and you can leave the food for later."
Repentance moved her paddle to her left hand, grasped the railing with her right, and prepared to launch herself down the stairs.
But Tigen never moved away down the hall. Instead a big man burst into view, pushing Tigen aside, and charging up the stairs.
He was on her before she could even turn around, let alone try to run away. "Got you!"
She yelped in pain as he twisted one arm up behind her back.
There comes to every man a moment when the choices set before him are intolerable. To choose one course will tear the heart out six ways and to choose the other will tear it out seven. A man in this circumstance needs no lecture. He needs pity and prayer.
The Button Girl Page 30