CHAPTER XXV
FAREWELL TO MY SISTER
WE continued south, heading for the village of Stoneleigh on the edge of Pwodente. I shared a horse with Bryony. It broke my heart to think that though we were now so close, and I could put my arms around her, it would be for the last time.
I leaned forward and put my mouth next to her ear. “Try to keep hope alive in your heart, Bryony,” I whispered. “One day I will find a way to return to you, I swear it!”
“I’m sure you’ll find a way, Nessa!” she exclaimed with a smile. “You’re so clever, I’m certain it won’t take you long.”
Despite my sister’s youthful optimism, I knew that it was extremely unlikely that we would ever meet again. But at least Bryony had the prospect of a long and happy life. I could still hardly believe that Susan had been taken from us. The witch had fought alongside the beast, and somehow they had prevailed—but at what a terrible cost! Poor Susan must have been so frightened—and to die such a death! The pain in my heart was unbearable.
If only my life could have been taken instead, I would have willingly given it so that she might live.
“What if my aunt and uncle are cruel to me?” Bryony said suddenly.
“They’re family. They will be good to you, I feel certain of that,” I said softly.
In truth, I was certain of nothing. Times were hard, and if our aunt and uncle were scratching out a living here on the edge of Kobalos territory, the last thing they needed was another hungry mouth to feed.
That night around the campfire, we discussed how Bryony might best be handed over to our relatives.
“If we show our faces, it will cause great alarm,” Grimalkin told the beast, “for you are Kobalos and I am clearly a witch. As a result we will be hunted down and thus be forced to kill our pursuers. The girls’ relatives might even be among them.”
This was indeed the likely outcome of being seen, and I nodded in agreement.
“I suggest we cloak ourselves,” Grimalkin continued.
“That may not be necessary. Let us see the lay of the land. We may be able to send the youngest purra out alone and watch from afar,” Slither proposed.
“Yes, but we must be certain that she is well received and accepted into the family,” I insisted. “After all, we have never met them. They may not wish to be burdened with my sister. They may even be dead by now. Times are hard, and there is no guarantee that a small community struggling to survive would welcome even one extra mouth to feed. I need some reassurance that my sister is safe.”
The following morning we completed the final stage of the journey to the dwelling place of our aunt and uncle.
Keeping to the left bank, we followed the river downstream and approached the last bridge before the western sea, which we could now see in the distance. There was a small wood between us and the bridge. It couldn’t have been better for what we planned.
“This is perfect,” said Grimalkin. “We can wait hidden within the trees at the edge of the wood and yet watch Bryony cross the bridge.”
“But if our aunt and uncle take you in, you must come back to the bridge and wave to show us that all is well,” I said. “Promise me that.”
“I promise,” Bryony said, her voice choked with emotion. “They’ll ask me about you and Susan,” she continued, her eyes brimming with tears. “What shall I say?”
I thought hard. As far as I knew, Father had never exchanged letters with his kin in Pwodente. They might not even know of his daughters, or that his wife was dead. But it was better to approximate the truth as far as possible.
“You must be brave, Bryony,” I replied. “Tell them how our father died, but say that your sisters stayed behind to try and work the farm with a view to selling it eventually. Say things were hard and they felt unable to care for you properly and hoped that one day they might join you or maybe send for you to return. Say that you have been accompanied by travelers who have gone many miles out of their way to bring you safely here, and they cannot afford to tarry longer but just wish to know that all is well. Could you say that?”
“I’ll do my best, Nessa. I’ll try.” She was being as brave as she could.
So we dismounted and waited just within the trees. Bryony and I withdrew a little distance from Grimalkin and Slither and exchanged a tearful farewell—one of such duration that the beast began to pace up and down in a most agitated fashion, his tail up high, and I knew that we were testing his patience to its limits.
But at last, after a final hug, Bryony gulped and then set off toward the river. I watched her go, trying to hold back the tears. I knew what it cost her to leave me behind, and I was proud of her courage. Her figure grew smaller and smaller as she approached the bridge and crossed it to disappear among the small huddle of cottages that we judged to be Stoneleigh.
We waited in silence, Slither displaying increasing impatience, and after about an hour, three people came over the bridge and looked at us across the meadow. I saw a man and a woman, and between them stood my sister Bryony. She raised her hand and waved three times.
That was the prearranged signal that she was well and had found sanctuary with our aunt and uncle. With that final wave, I was satisfied; we were free to head northwest toward the dreaded slave market. Bryony’s new life was just beginning. Mine was as good as over. I did not expect to live long as a slave of the Kobalos.
CHAPTER XXVI
THE SLAVE KULAD
AS we rode, my spirits were high, knowing that once Nessa was sold I would be free to return to my haizda. I was looking forward to going home. But Nessa countered my happy, optimistic mood with a constant flow of tears, which I somehow found disturbing. The threat of skaiium was still there. Although I tried my utmost, I found it hard to rid myself of the memory of some of her actions.
She had given me her blood to revive me after I’d been bitten by the skulka; much later, she had ridden between me and Eblis, thus giving me a chance of life. These actions could, I suppose, be accounted for in the same way as her request for a knife in order to help fight the haggenbrood: she had simply been trying to ensure the survival of her sisters.
But I could not forget how she had pressed her forehead against mine—such a daring thing for a purra to do. Again, it was prompted by a desire to persuade me to save Bryony and had resulted in my slaying of Nunc and then the Shaiksa assassin. But I could not forget the touch of her skin on mine.
A small part of me wanted to set her free to go and live with her sister, but I could not countenance that. I was a haizda mage; I had to be strong and fight any hint of weakness within myself. In any case, it was important that I sell a slave and meet the requirements of bindos; otherwise, I would find myself an outlaw once more.
We headed north, crossed the Fittzanda Fissure without mishap, experiencing just a few mild tremors, and soon were traveling through snow once more. It lay thin on the ground now, with a crisp crust of ice; the skies were clear. Even in the land of the Kobalos there was a short summer, and now it was on its way.
We began to climb into the foothills of the Dendar Mountains, and just before dusk on the second day, we saw Karpotha, the largest of all the slave kulads, in the distance. It was a broad, dark tower rising up into the sky; a large walled courtyard surrounded it. This was where the holding pens for the purrai were located.
I wished to be done with the business of selling Nessa. All I wanted to do now was to return to my haizda and replenish my magic. It was seriously depleted—I didn’t like to admit it, but that was why I had rejected the idea of cloaking myself in order to hide from the child’s family. I scarcely had the magical strength to do so, and I might yet have need of my last reserves.
We made camp under an outcrop of rock, and I told the witch that, soon after dawn, I would take Nessa to the kulad and sell her.
Grimalkin made no reply and was silent for a long time. Around the campfire the atmosphere was cooler than the northerly breeze, and all three of us ate in silence. Finally, w
ithout a word, Nessa wrapped herself in her blanket and withdrew from us under the shelter of the cliff. Once the purra had gone, the witch started to talk.
“Where did you get that coat?” she asked. “I’ve never seen one like it.”
“It’s a sign of office,” I replied. “Once each haizda mage completes his novitiate, he is given such a coat. There are thirteen buttons symbolizing the thirteen truths.”
“The thirteen truths? What are they?”
“If you knew that, then you too would be a haizda mage,” I told her. “Perhaps one day I could teach you. But it would take thirty years of your life or more. Such knowledge is not truly suited to short-lived humans.”
She smiled grimly. “I have not thirty years to spare just now, but one day I may visit you again. Maybe then you could teach me a little of your craft. My sister witches in Pendle are conservative and keep to the old ways, but I like to learn from other cultures and disciplines and increase my knowledge in new methods.
“But now I will speak to you of a matter that concerns me much. I ask again that you do not sell the girl in the slave market. She has been brave, and by some of her actions has ensured your own survival. But for the danger to the two girls, I would not have loaned you the dagger that you used to defeat the assassin.”
“What you say is true,” I admitted, “but I must refuse your request. Have I not explained my situation to you already? Do you forget so quickly? It is not that I need the money, but according to a Kobalos law called bindos, every forty years each citizen must sell at least one purra in the slave markets. That sale is carefully recorded. Otherwise we forgo our citizenship and are cast out of Valkarky, never to be welcomed there again. Consequently, we become outlaws and may be killed on sight.”
“So by law you are forced to become a party to the slave trade that is at the very heart of your society. It is a clever piece of legislation, designed to bind you together with your common values.”
“That is true,” I replied. “Without the trade, we could not breed and survive. We would become extinct.”
“Are there no dissenters?”
I nodded. “There is a group within the city that call themselves the Skapien. Some say they have no central organization but work within small, independent, isolated cells. What they achieve or attempt, nobody knows. Occasionally one declares himself publicly; after a brief trial, he is executed as a traitor whose aim is to destroy the state.”
“Do you personally know anybody who has been executed in this way?”
“No,” I replied. “I visit the city only rarely, and apart from the haizda servants like Hom, who bring me news, I have no friends or acquaintances.”
“What about other haizda mages—do you communicate with them?”
“Only if we meet by chance,” I told the witch.
“Then yours is a lonely life indeed.”
“It is what I choose,” I replied. “I wish for no other. Now I must ask you a question. . . . You promised not to hinder me. Will you keep your word?”
“Yes, I will keep my word,” the witch replied. “You may enter the kulad tomorrow and sell a slave—which means that you will have met your obligation as a citizen. But after that, our trade is over. Do you understand?”
“You mean that from then on, we are enemies?”
“Perhaps we will be somewhere between allies and enemies. But for now we will go our separate ways.”
Soon after that we retired for the night, but later I awoke to the murmur of voices. The witch and Nessa were whispering together. I attempted to tune in my hearing and listen to their conversation, but they immediately fell silent. It seemed to me that they had been plotting something, though I was not unduly concerned. Whatever else she was, I believed the human witch to be honorable—one who would keep her word. Tomorrow, without hindrance, I would sell Nessa, and thus fulfill my duties as a citizen for another four decades.
For the remainder of the night, I slept well. At some point, however, I began to dream, and it was one of the strangest that I have ever experienced. In it I rescued Nessa from some deadly threat. It seemed so real. Afterward, I remembered all but the very end; it was a most enjoyable dream—and whatever occurred at the end, it was extremely pleasurable.
I awoke at dawn to find that the witch had already left our camp. No doubt she did not wish to see one of her race being sold into slavery. But at least she had kept her word not to hinder me. So, wasting no time on breakfasting, Nessa and I mounted our horses in silence, and I led her toward the kulad.
She looked sad, so as we rode I offered her a few kind words of advice, which I hoped might be useful to her in her new life as a slave.
“Once you have left my possession, little Nessa, be subservient and deferential at all times. Never look your new masters in the eye. That is most important. And when they begin the auction, stand tall on the platform, with your head held high but your gaze always on the boards at your feet. Thank them for each stroke of the whip upon your skin and each cut of the blade into your flesh. That is expected. By such means, not only will you command a higher price and please all who gaze upon you—it will be the means to live as long a life as can reasonably be expected for a purra.”
“How long do slaves live?” Nessa asked.
“Once they reach adulthood, some purrai live as long as ten or twelve years, but once their flesh is no longer young and the taste of their blood becomes less sweet, they are slain and their aging bodies consumed by the whoskor, the multilegged builders of Valkarky.”
“Then I don’t have much to look forward to,” she observed sadly. “It can’t be right to treat people in this manner.”
I did not reply, for now I saw the dark stone of the outer kulad wall looming over us; it was time to get down to business. From the northeast, the hooves of horses and the feet of manacled slaves had churned the route to the fortress into a dirty river of mud and slush. I presented myself at the gate, declared my purpose, and gained entry. Once that was done I did not linger, forcing the girl onward. The truth was, I was still feeling slightly uncomfortable at the idea of disposing of Nessa in this way, and I wished to get it over with as quickly as possible.
Despite the early hour, there was a bustle of activity within the open courtyard of the kulad. Purrai were already being brought in chains to the three wooden bidding platforms where large groups of Kobalos merchants were gathered. At least a dozen armed Oussa guards were present. They looked surly, and clearly considered watching over the proceedings here to be beneath them. No doubt they thought they would be better employed hunting down the witch—it was rumored that she had fled south. They would still be smarting from the shame of seeing four of their number dispatched by her when she was first captured.
I noticed that some gave me glances of recognition that verged on respect. No doubt they had witnessed my defeat of the haggenbrood.
I dismounted, pulled Nessa unceremoniously down off her horse, and dragged her over to the nearest platform. I would have liked to be gentler, but in so public a gathering I had no choice but to conform to the norms of this society. It took less than a minute to complete the transaction with the merchant.
“I offer one hundred valcrons for the purra,” he said, rubbing his hands together.
A valcron is the daily wage of a lowly Kobalos foot soldier, and I knew that he would make at least twice that amount when he put her up for auction. However, I was in no mood to haggle and simply wished to seal the transaction as quickly as possible. Money did not concern me; I simply had to meet my legal obligations. So I nodded, accepting the offer, and he counted the small coins into a bag.
“What do you offer for this horse?” I asked, indicating the mare that Nessa had been riding.
“Two hundred and twenty valcrons,” he said with a smile, and began rubbing his hands together again, in the irritating manner merchants deem appropriate when conducting business.
He added the coins to the bag, handed it over, and the deal was don
e.
Thus I got more for the animal than I had for Nessa. It was because she was so skinny. Such purrai never attract high prices.
However, the important thing was that the transaction was recorded against my name and would now be entered into the bindos records. I had discharged my duties as a citizen.
The servants of the merchant dragged Nessa over to face him, and I was glad to see that she was following my advice, keeping her eyes respectfully upon the ground rather than meeting his eyes. It had always disconcerted me when she met my own gaze so levelly. A trained purra must never do that. She must accept her new station or suffer terribly.
The merchant drew the knife from his belt and swiftly made two cuts to Nessa’s forearm. She did not even flinch. Then I distinctly heard her say, “Thank you, master.”
Something inside me rebelled against this. For all that Nessa had been my property, I had never cut her.
But there was nothing I could do about it. I rode away, resisting the urge to glance back at her as I approached the gate. I knew that I had to fight the onset of skaiium with every last bit of my strength. It was difficult, but I was strong and did not yield.
CHAPTER XXVII
A CRY IN THE NIGHT
ONCE through the gateway, I looked up at the sky and frowned. Clouds were racing in from the north. Such storms were rare in early spring, but they could strike with a terrible fury.
I could have returned to the kulad and sat it out there, but something inside me was reluctant to witness Nessa’s new situation. However, it would soon be impossible to travel farther, so I urged my horse back to the shelter of the cliff where we had spent the previous night.
By now the wind was rising, and no sooner had I retreated under the overhang than the first large flakes of snow began to whirl down from a sky the color of lead. Within minutes a blizzard was blowing out of the north.
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