Someone was coming up the stairs two at a time. I slipped quickly out of the room to meet Solon, who gave me a look of alarm. I held one finger up to my lips and whispered, “He’s sleeping.” Solon nodded and followed me back downstairs and out of the house.
“What happened?” he asked when we were outside. “The servants said they saw him stumble over to the office, and a little while later they saw you helping him back to his house.”
“He wanted to fire me,” I said cheerfully. “But he picked up two books in particular when he was yelling at me not to touch anything. I figured those books probably had information he wanted to hide, so I made sure to go with him and then I cut out some of the suspicious pages once he was asleep.”
“You really were sent by Athena,” Solon said. “Although Lycurgus may very well have grabbed two books at random.”
“I don’t think so,” I said. We were back at the office; Solon pulled up a chair for me, and I sat down and smoothed the pages down against the desk.
“I think these are the pages he wanted to hide,” I said. “If you were going to try to embezzle from the farm, you’d probably underreport your produce to the Sisterhood, and then you’d sell the extras and pocket the difference. This looks like the real numbers regarding the bushels of apples from last year, and the year before last. Somewhere in that mess, no doubt, is the information that got reported to the Sisterhood.” I glanced up at Solon. “Do you want to catch him embezzling? Because I will leave these here and if they get lost, well, who could really expect to find anything of substance given the mess Lycurgus has made of the records?”
Solon smiled. “If you find the other piece of the puzzle, I’ll decide what to do after that.”
I nodded and got up to go back to the records room.
“Xanthe.”
I looked back at him.
“I’m raising your pay. You’ve shown your worth since you arrived, and it wouldn’t be fair to keep you here over the winter without paying you.” He drew a small bag out of his desk drawer and tossed it to me. “Thank you, and I’ll do my best to keep Lycurgus from bothering you again, though I’m sure I’m doomed to fail.”
“Thank you.” I hesitated, then said, “Can I have an assistant?” Solon raised an eyebrow and I hurried on: “One of the slaves from the cider hut, maybe. I’m just thinking that if Lycurgus comes looking for me again, it might be helpful to have someone who can create a distraction or something . . .”
“Ah. Good idea.” Solon mulled it over for a minute or two and then said, “I’ll send word that you can borrow Burkut. He was sick last week and needs a lot of rest right now. If you can arrange for him to infect Lycurgus, that would solve the problem another way.”
Well. That was simpler than I’d expected. “Thank you,” I said again, and went back into the records room.
Guilt hit me like a stack of sliding papers as I began to sort through the ledgers again. Solon reminded me of Kyros at his best. But Kyros, I knew now, was my father; he had his own special reasons to be kind to me. To Solon, I was a homeless vagabond who’d asked for charity and had unexpectedly turned out to be useful. From what he knew of me, he had no reason to believe that I’d leave before winter unless he threw me out. The only reason to pay me was his own sense of fairness and justice. I peeked inside the bag; it was ten athenas, a fair wage for a clerk.
Maybe if I can find the information on the harvests, at least I’ll be able to leave behind some information that he can use.
But who was I trying to fool? There was nothing I could do that would make him not hate me for my betrayal when I took Burkut and left. I needed to remember why I was here: to free Burkut. That was the only reason.
“It’s about time for the midday meal,” Solon called from his desk. “If you want to go pick up food for both of us and bring it back here, I wouldn’t complain.”
I walked over to the kitchen. The meal hall was empty except for a couple of house servants eating bread and cheese; in the kitchen, bread, cheese, and casks of cider were being loaded onto a small wagon, presumably to be hauled out to the orchard. One of the kitchen slaves caught sight of me as I came in. “Do you need lunch?” she asked.
“For myself and Solon,” I said.
She nodded and pulled down a tray from a shelf, then quickly loaded it with bread, cheese, some apples, and two mugs of cider. I carried it back up to the office as the wagon creaked off toward the orchard.
Solon waved me to a chair near the desk as I brought the food in, and I put the tray down on a cleared space on his desk and sat down. I broke off a piece of bread and crumbled some of the cheese on top. The bread was crusty and chewy, still a little warm from the oven; the cheese had a mild, sour taste. I wish I could bring some of this to share with Tamar.
Solon tossed aside his papers and set his pen down, then took bread and cheese for himself. “Tell me more about your job working for the sorceress,” he said.
Ugh. The bread hardened to a lump in the back of my throat as I swallowed. I washed it down with some of the cider. “What do you want to know?”
“Well, what you did for her, for one.”
I tried desperately to remember what I’d told him before. “It depended on the week,” I said.
“Were you her household manager?”
“Not officially, but I did a lot of that sort of thing. I was also usually the one who made sure she ate. During the depths of melancholia, she wouldn’t want to, and of course when she was taken by the cold fever, she’d forget to. She had no husband or children. It was her nephew who was her heir.” That much of my own story I remembered; I’d put together quite a mental picture of the heartless nephew who’d cast me out into the chill of approaching winter. He looked sort of like a younger version of Sophos.
“That nephew was a fool,” Solon said.
“Thank you.”
“So you kept accounts, you made her eat, sometimes you used a sword—was there anything you didn’t do?”
I thought about it. “Well, I didn’t ever have to actually shovel the horse shit from the stable; she had slaves to do that. I’m not much of a cook—we had a very good cook, fortunately for all of us.”
“Where were you born?”
“Oh, I was born in Daphnia. My mother is a freewoman there. She works at an inn.”
“Why didn’t you go back to your mother when you lost your job?”
I made a face. “She wouldn’t leave me to starve or freeze, but we don’t get along all that well. I preferred to take my chances and hope I’d find a job, rather than counting on an entire winter sharing a room with my mother.”
Solon let out an appreciative laugh. He was almost done with his lunch, I noted with relief. “What was the name of the sorceress, again?”
For a moment of blind panic, I couldn’t remember. Then it came to me: “Hypatia,” I said, hoping that my panic hadn’t showed on my face.
Solon nodded. “Don’t worry about the tray, one of the servants will come get it,” he said, and went back to his work.
I went out to the cider hut after lunch; someone would no doubt bring Burkut to me later, but I wanted an opportunity to talk to him out of Solon’s earshot. I needed to know how soon he’d be able to travel; tonight, if I could, I would sneak out and walk to Tamar’s camp to let them know what was going on. Someone saw me coming, and Burkut was getting slowly out of bed as I came in, looking worn and disgruntled. “Do you need me to come with you now?” he asked.
“I can come back later,” I said.
“No, it’s all right. I’m awake anyway, I might as well come now.”
Burkut followed me out, blinking a little in the bright sun after the dimness of the cider hut. “Come on, I want to go somewhere to talk for a little while,” I said, and led him to a sunny spot on the far side of the slave sleeping quarters. No one was around, I looked carefully to be certain of that.
“Do you recognize me?” I asked.
Burkut stared at me for a long m
oment. He had circles under his eyes, and his shoulders were slumped. “Should I?” he asked, finally. He was avoiding my eyes, but I saw the glint of recognition.
“I used to work for Kyros. The time you ran away, I brought you back.”
“I’ve never run away,” he said, sounding confused.
“Yes, you did,” I said. “You ran away once, but you didn’t get very far. You didn’t bring water with you, and then you cried all the way back.”
Silence, then a grudging nod. “I remember you.” There was a pause. “Why are you here?”
“I’m here to free you.”
An even longer silence. Finally I added, “If you still want to be free.”
Burkut’s jaw tightened a little, but he didn’t lash out at me like Uljas had. Of course, it would have been dangerous for him to show anger toward a guard, or toward Lycurgus or Solon. From where he stood, I looked like one of them, no matter what I said I was here for.
“Where do you want to take me?” he asked finally.
“To the Alashi,” I said. “That’s where you wanted to go, wasn’t it?”
“I guess.” He looked up, for the first time, and gave me a long stare. I was expecting suppressed anger, but mostly Burkut looked puzzled and suspicious; he also looked sick. Finally he said, “What do you mean, you’re here to free me?”
“I’m here with Uljas,” I said. A light flickered in Burkut’s eyes at the name. “We have horses, food, and water. We can help you escape, and then take you up to the steppe.” Still no response. He’d looked down again. “If you want to.”
“I’ll have to think about it,” he said.
“How sick are you? When would you be able to travel?” I asked.
“I’m feeling better than I was,” he said. “I don’t know when I’ll feel like traveling, though.”
“We can’t wait all that long,” I said, beginning to feel desperate. “We have horses; you won’t have to walk. But we need to leave soon, so that you can be safe with the Alashi before the snows come.”
“I need to think about it,” he said.
“Well, think fast. For now, anyway, Solon has you working as my assistant. If you come up to the records room, you can rest there while I work. Call me Xanthe.”
I made Burkut a little pallet to rest on in the corner of the records room; he lay down and closed his eyes. I clenched my teeth as I sorted. Of all the various problems I could have encountered, a reluctant slave who couldn’t decide whether he wanted to be free was not what I’d planned for. If he wants to stay here, then fine, I told myself, but my stomach knotted with frustration at the thought; I wanted him to be free. I wanted to undo what I had done. Of course, Burkut is the one who’d have been dead without me. I glanced at him, resting on the pallet with his eyes closed. And that, I’m not going to try to undo.
Lycurgus didn’t lurch in to interrupt us, and Burkut slept the rest of the afternoon away. At dinnertime, I walked him down to the meal hall and sat down with the guards again. I barely heard the conversation that flowed around me tonight, as I was thinking over the conversation with Burkut and all the things I should have said to him. I’m sorry. I was on the wrong side of the fight, but now I’m not. Please trust me. The Alashi will take you in—the stories you’ve heard were lies. Uljas is eager to see you again. I looked toward Burkut as I went to the kitchen for seconds, and spotted him tonight since I knew where he was sitting. He was alert and cheerful in the company of his friends; he looked much healthier than he had in the records room.
After dinner, as the guards were lining up the slaves to take them back to their bunkhouse, I found myself near Burkut. He saw me and caught my eye, and mouthed a single word: “No.”
My stomach sank, but the signal had been very clear. I went up to my room over the kitchen to wait for the quiet of the night.
I slipped out in the dark quiet around midnight; I took everything with me because there was no reason to stay any longer. I can’t blame him for not wanting to run. He has friends here. Solon is a decent man, a kind master—the sort of person I’d want to be owned by, if I were a slave. Though another part of me insisted, I would never want to be owned by anyone. I might not be able to escape—I, of anyone, should know that it’s not always possible to ‘take your freedom’—but if I were offered a chance at freedom, I would never choose slavery, never.
But it is his choice to make, not mine.
It took me about an hour to walk to the campsite. Everyone was asleep when I got there; they all woke up as I came into the tent.
“Do you have him?” Tamar asked breathlessly.
“No,” I said. “He didn’t want to come.”
“He what?”
“He didn’t want to come,” I said again.
“I don’t believe you,” Uljas said.
The tent was too dark to see anything, but I shrugged anyway. “I can’t help that. He said he didn’t want to come. Would you have me kidnap him? Drag him to freedom like a stolen horse?”
“Did you ask him why?”
“I couldn’t. We’d talked privately earlier, but when he gave me his answer, there was a crowd of people around.”
“Did you tell him I was here?”
“Yes.” I heard Uljas let out his breath in an angry hiss. “I told him you were waiting.”
“So now what?” Tamar asked.
“Now I guess we head back to the steppe.”
“No.” Uljas’s cold hand closed around my wrist. “I want to talk to him.” When I didn’t answer, he tightened his grip and said, “Burkut was my best friend once. Let me talk to him.”
I was tempted to tell him no; I’d offered Burkut his chance, and if he refused it I wasn’t going to try to convince him to change his mind. Especially since I had no idea how I would bring the two of them face-to-face. But I was working out a way to do it even as I tried to think of a way to say no to Uljas. “Everyone should be in the apple orchard again tomorrow. Uljas, there’s a field fairly close to the houses where they grow cabbages. Find that field, hide, and wait for us. I’ll try to bring Burkut to you sometime during the day. I’ll probably just tell him that you want to see him. You can say your piece when we get there. I’ll warn you, he’s been ill.”
“He’s always ill,” Uljas muttered. “That doesn’t mean he can’t travel if he wants to.”
“If you get caught, tell them that you’re a freeman and used to work for a sorceress named Hypatia in Daphnia. She killed herself a few months ago and you were discharged by her heir, a nephew. You heard a rumor that Xanthe was coming here and you were hoping you might be able to find a job here as well. You ran Hypatia’s stable, we knew each other, and if you make up any outlandish details, try to give me some hint as to what they are so that I can back you up. I’m going back to try to catch a few hours of sleep.”
I crawled back out of the tent and walked back toward the farm. I’m going to want to join Burkut on his pallet tomorrow.
A gust of wind blew back my hood and rattled the dry leaves around my feet. I started to pull my hood back up and saw a shimmer out of the corner of my eye; I turned and saw a djinn in the air beside me.
Kyros, I thought, and started to reach out to banish it, but it flickered away from me.
“I am not a slave,” it said. “I do not need your favors.”
I dropped my hand, wondering why it had approached me. Well, I could always ask it some questions of my own. “Are any other djinni following me?”
“No.”
That probably meant not at this moment, unfortunately; if Kyros had a djinn stalking me, it might not be here right now. “Why are you here?”
“To look on you.”
I shivered in the blast of cold wind. “Do you know Zhanna?” I asked.
“No,” the djinn said.
“Why did you come looking for me?”
“I’d heard stories from the slaves you freed.”
For a moment I wondered why the djinn had been talking with Nika; then I r
ealized what it meant. Kyros’s djinni. And maybe the one from the bandits’ spell-chain. It struck me that if I wanted something from a djinn, now would be a good time to ask for whatever favor I needed, but nothing came to mind. Finally I asked, “Do you have anything to tell me?”
“Arachne is not Athena’s only restive apprentice,” the djinn said.
“Arachne was never Athena’s apprentice,” I said.
“No? Then perhaps Athena is not Arachne’s only restive apprentice. Either way, both of the sisters have put their hand on the lovely rock they found, and they will fight to the death over it.”
“Do you mean karenite?” I asked, but my only answer was to see the shimmer melting away into the darkness.
When I got back to my room over the kitchen, I was so tired I could barely see straight, yet I was so tightly wound I lay awake even as I heard the kitchen slaves stirring downstairs, lighting the fire and starting the morning bread. It’s no use, I thought. I should probably just go ahead and get up. Maybe I’ll just lie here and rest my eyes a few more minutes, though . . .
Lauria!
I was up on the steppe; it was dusted with a light covering of snow, and Zhanna was standing by the yurt, warmly wrapped. “You came,” she said with relief. “I’d almost given up waiting.”
“I—” I didn’t know what to say to that. “It’s good to see you.”
“I need to ask you a question. Rumors are flying up here about the Greeks and the offensive they’re supposed to be planning.”
“The Weavers need karenite,” I said.
“They what?”
The sun was rising over the horizon, but it was coming up far too fast, flying up and up into the sky like a bird taking off. Zhanna’s voice sounded far, far away, and I screamed, to try to be heard, “Karenite. The karenite is the key.”
Someone was shaking me gently. “Would you like some breakfast, miss?”
I struggled back to awareness, feeling like I needed a good night’s sleep. One of the kitchen slaves knelt next to me, her hands still on my shoulders. “Did I say something?”
“You called out a name as I was waking you. ‘Zhanna.’ I brought you some tea.” Satisfied that I was up, she headed back downstairs. My tray waited for me on the floor, steam rising from the tea. I downed it, hoping that it would clear my head, and tried to remember what I needed to do today. Figure out what Lycurgus is up to. No, that’s not it. I need to take Burkut to the cabbage field so that Uljas can try to talk sense into him. And if he can, I guess I’ll need to get Burkut out. Ugh.
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