Ebudae (28 page)

The warehouse where Aphry and the others
were imprisoned was obvious due to Blavoci’s yellow with black
striped emblems on it and the guards standing around. Frath stopped
at a cattle pen a distance away and put a foot up on one of the
rails while pretending to study the livestock within. Pelya
followed his example, heart thumping in excitement. “How do we get
past the guards?” she asked.

“Well, I have an idea, but I’d like to hear
what you think. What would you do, kick them in the face like last
time?” Frath smirked.

Pelya blushed, but considered the question
seriously. “We want to send a message to Master Thanzin, but
attacking the guards and leaving them unconscious here would result
in them getting robbed and possibly killed. We
never
want to
hurt someone if it isn’t necessary.”

“Very good. I’m proud of you, Daughter.” He
smiled and put an approving hand on her shoulder.

“Thank you, Daddy.” Pelya smiled happily
before becoming serious again. She glanced behind his back at the
warehouse. “It looks like all the entrances have two guards except
the big, double-wagon door which has four. There’s no traffic in or
out and everything is locked. I don’t think we can bluff our way
in.”

“I agree. So how do we get in without
violence?”

“The roof, a window, secret door or
underground? There are no windows and I think it would be too
difficult to climb up to the roof unseen. We don’t have anything
that will grant us invisibility.” She tugged on her braid while
pretending to look at the cows. “I may be able to buy something,
but I’d have to get money and then we’d have to go to Wizard’s
Mall. By the time we got back, it would be night. I don’t think we
want to wait that long.” Pelya looked to see her father’s
reaction.

“No, we don’t. There’s no guarantee that
we’ll be able to get in through the roof. The building looks well
maintained,” Frath said without looking back. Pelya knew he had
already assessed everything and she was duly impressed.

“I seriously doubt there’s a secret door on
a warehouse, so that leaves underground. There are sewers through
here, but they’ll smell real bad.” Pelya grimaced. “Especially in
the summer with no rain in the last couple of weeks to wash away
the waste. I don’t know if it will open up into a warehouse
either.”

“The sewers don’t, but there are thousands
of access tunnels around the sewers and parts of the ruins extend
this far.” He looked at her gravely. “The city you and Ebudae like
to play in didn’t come out far in this direction, but one of the
older cities did. None of it is on the Guard maps, but a few know
their way around.” Frath gestured for her to follow as he walked
away from the warehouse. “Come on, let’s go see a woman I
know.”

She walked alongside as he turned toward the
Slum District. When he reached out a hand, she took it even though
she was no longer a child. A pretty, young woman in the slums, even
a dangerous one with a sword, was a target. However, only the most
foolish would attack her father, an intimidating swordsman both by
physical appearance and by reputation, to get to her.

Squalor was an inadequate word to describe
the trash-strewn streets with demoralized indigents huddled in
corners. They didn’t beg because few in the district had coin and
those that did were bullies and thieves. The pungent odors changed
from livestock to unwashed bodies and rot. Pelya couldn’t put her
finger on
what
was rotting, but guessed that it was numerous
things and tried hard not to consider the worst. The sounds echoing
through the tight streets between ramshackle buildings were those
of misery. She heard occasional cries of misfortunate children born
into poverty and suffering. Occasionally there would be a scream or
an adult crying and she cringed at what might have happened to
them. Apathy tinged the general murmur of conversation.

As Pelya grew older, more and more men would
stare at her, make catcalls, indecent comments or proposals, and
just about anything else. In the slum, slovenly men who gathered in
groups were worse than normal. As long as they weren’t within reach
of her father, they said things Pelya had never heard before.

She had trained with Bava and many of the
women in the Guard about what to expect and how to handle the
things that would be said and gestures that would be made, but it
still made her uncomfortable. Pelya did her best not to show a
reaction, but felt the blood drain from her face and knew she must
be pale. Her father succeeded in showing no outside reaction, but
if he were to squeeze her hand any harder, all the bones would
break.

They moved quickly through the haphazard
buildings that rose higher and higher. Unlike other areas, clay and
mud was added to the stone of ground-level walls and large amounts
of cheap wood were slapped together to make upper levels. She found
herself instinctively ducking and leaning into her father.

It wasn’t long before he entered one of
those buildings. A scurvy-looking man with rotting teeth and grimy
rags for clothes was leaning against the wall outside the empty
doorway. The suggestion he made as to what Pelya could do with him
for the rest of the day horrified her. However, the vagabond made
the mistake of being too close.

The sound of her father’s fist crushing the
man’s face in a powerful and rapid swing was sickening. Bones
audibly broke and blood gushed from the nose and mouth. Frath led
Pelya through the doorway without stopping as the man fell to the
ground with hands covering his face.

She had no desire to say anything at that
point and just followed as her father led her through the dark
room. A couple of worn-down old women sat at a table mending
trousers that would be more suited as cleaning rags. Neither made
eye contact with the newcomers.

An old set of stairs led down to a wooden
door. A rat nibbled on a rotten morsel hidden in some trash on the
corner of the steps. It looked at her in interest as though
wondering what she was doing in that part of town. She didn’t give
it an answer so it went back to its task.

Frath knocked on the door in an unusual
sequence. Pelya could tell it was a code, so she paid close
attention and memorized it, tapping it out on her thigh a couple of
times to be certain she had it. The door opened without the help of
a person and Pelya realized that it had a minor enchantment on it.
Frath pulled her through before it immediately closed behind
them.

“I don’t know if she’s nearby at the moment,
but I’m hoping so. It will be harder to find the section of the old
city under the warehouse without her help.” Frath looked around the
small basement room. There were a few shelves, but everything was
surprisingly clean in contrast to the slums above. The smell wasn’t
too bad, so he uncovered his face. Pelya removed her bandana as
well and stuck it in her belt, handy for future use.

Pelya considered asking questions, but she
had lost any desire to talk by that point. She just held onto his
hand and studied the surroundings.

Her father faced her and put a gentle hand
on her cheek. “Are you alight, Pelya?”

“Yes, Daddy.” Pelya tried to give him a
reassuring smile, but it didn’t reach her lips. She honestly had no
clue if she was alright or not, but did know that she wasn’t as
excited as before.

Concern covered his features and he tenderly
caressed the cheek. “I know that was terrible up there and I’m
sorry you had to hear all those things. I want you to know that
we’re going to be going into a dangerous area. If I can find my
friend, we’ll have a guide. I can handle most things, but there’s
always the chance everything will go wrong and we’ll die
badly.”

His words were in a reassuring tone, but
there was nothing reassuring about the content. Pelya frowned as
she considered them. “You’re absolutely terrible at pep talks,
Daddy.”

Frath rubbed his face. “I know. Your mother
used to say the same thing.” He released her hand and put both of
his on his hips. “What I’m trying to say is that we’ll be alright .
. . probably.”

Pelya couldn’t help but laugh. “Nope. That’s
not any better, but I know what you mean and I’m ready.

“Who comes into my home?” a woman’s raspy
voice asked from behind Frath. Pelya placed a hand on her sword and
crouched in readiness.

Frath turned without alarm. “Erma. I’m so
glad to see you. We need your help.”

Pelya left the crouch and examined the
newcomer in the dim lantern light of the room. The first thing she
noticed was the rat-like woman’s eyes. One was milky white while
the other was bright red. The narrow face had a long, pointed noise
protruding down the center and a recessed chin. Her greasy black
hair was snarled and looked like it had been cut short by a dull
knife. At first, Pelya thought she was old, but upon closer
inspection realized that Erma had to be in her early twenties.

The woman was hunched over and held her
hands together in front of her. “Frath Jornin. You visit me. You
rescue me again or have tea?” She seemed genuinely pleased by
Frath’s arrival.

“Hello, Erma. I’m hoping you will help me
rescue someone else this time.” Frath’s spoke quietly, his tones
distinctly calmer than normal. Pelya made a mental note to speak
the same way to the skittish woman.

“Rescue someone else? Erma pay you back?”
She pointed a bony finger with a long, dirty nail on it. “Must
rescue eight people. That’s how many times you rescued me.”

“I told you two of those don’t count.”
Frath’s voice was still calm, but there was a touch of exasperation
in it.

“Do too. I decide.” Erma pointed the finger
at Pelya. “Is this one of eight that need saving?”

“No. This is my daughter Pelya. She’s
helping us save them and there’s not eight, only . . .” He turned
to Pelya.

“There should be three or four: Aphry, her
husband Glav, her brother Jovias and maybe an actress named Karla.
She was with us when we saved Frank the first time, so they may
have taken her too.”

“Only four? Must save eight,” Erma insisted.
“Frath save my life eight times.”

“Six.” Frath said it under his breath.

“Eight!” Erma insisted, bringing the finger
back up to point at him. “Where are they? We save eight.”

“They’re under the warehouse of Master
Blavoci on the edge of the Livestock District.” Frath pointed in
the general direction.

“Not know Master Blavoci. Many warehouses
under the Smell.” Erma walked around the room, pointing her finger
in every direction.

“Under the Smell?” Pelya whispered to her
father.

“That’s what she calls the livestock
district,” he whispered back. Erma continued walking around,
pointing at nothing.

“They probably bring captured people and
animals in and out of the city through underground passages,” Pelya
said, remembering where she and Ebudae had rescued the slaves
from.

Erma hissed and clawed the air. “Slavers.”
The word was a condemnation. “Yes, I know. Save people in cages?”
She asked Frath, tilting her head up questioningly.

“The people we’re looking for may be in
cages. I don’t know if there’s any more,” Frath said.

“Many more. Rescue them all.” It wasn’t a
question, it was a demand.

“Yes, we’ll rescue them all,” Pelya agreed.
Her father raised his eyebrows and put his hands on his hips,
unhappy at the promise. Pelya crossed her arms stubbornly. “I won’t
be able to help myself. Slavery is wrong regardless of whether or
not it’s legal. If they’re trapped and suffering, I’ll have to do
everything I can to rescue them.”

“Yes. Must rescue them. Come, take you.”
Erma grabbed Pelya’s arm and dragged her into a dimly lit
tunnel.

“I’m going to regret this. I know I am,”
Frath muttered as he followed.

Chapter
19

“Did you actually save her eight times,
Daddy?” Pelya asked. Erma had gone to scout ahead into the
darkness, leaving them in a run-down building to eat some basic
rations for lunch. They sat on crates Erma had taken from somewhere
and a lone lantern provided their only light. The architecture in
the ruins was different from what Pelya and Ebudae had explored
under Lady Pallon’s manor. It was much worse for wear even though
the pillars that kept Dralin from collapsing still existed.

“Six.” Frath didn’t clarify. He had been
quiet during their journey.

“Who is she?” Pelya wanted
some
answers at least. She put her braid in her mouth and chewed on it
while she listened.

“She was an orphan. I found her in an alley
when she was younger. Some men had . . . well, she was hurt and
broken.” He took a small sip of cheap, warm ale Erma had stored in
the building. I took her to a healer. Then I found her a place
where I thought she would be safe. I was wrong.” He made a face at
the taste of the ale and held the mug in his hands.

Pelya took the braid out of her mouth. “Did
you have to rescue her again?” She put it back again.

“Yeah. She didn’t have anywhere to go, so I
found an abandoned building for her to stay in. She disappeared
after a few days and I couldn’t find her for a year.” Frath tried
another sip and made another face. He stood and walked to the door,
looking out into the darkness. “She had been taken and made a
prostitute. I rescued her from that and sent her out of the city. A
young woman alone doesn’t stand a chance though and I found her
here in the ruins below the slum district.”

“What were you doing down here?” Pelya asked
in curiosity. The idea that her father was an explorer like her was
thrilling.

“Just you never mind about that. The
important thing is that she’s been down here for a few years now
and knows the area better than anyone.” He came back and sat on the
crate he had vacated.