Jeanne G'Fellers - Sisters Flight (15 page)

Apprentice:
And not my eyes?

Master:
The eyes deceive. If you feel danger, react to it before it has a chance to
come into view or else it may be too late.

Rankil

"The
mine guild sets all prices." A boy sentry, one of two dozen or so on
guard, greeted us at the mine's main gate. "Full payment is expected at
the time of sale."

"Everyone
knows that." Frest's mouth twitched in frustration.

"All
buyers are to wear lenses inside the mine boundaries." The boy yawned.
"Lenses and shackles are also required on all sales. If you haven't
brought them, you can buy them at the sale."

"At
a high price, I'm certain." Frest pointed to the sack draping my shoulder
then to the lenses covering all our faces. "We brought our own."

"Enough
for what you buy?" The boy rubbed at his sleep-deprived eyes.

"Do
we look like idiots?" Frest rested his hand on his sword hilt. "Of
course we brought enough. You always shackle and lens slaves. It's the only way
to keep the fire-eyed bitches in line."

"I'm
only doing what they tell me, sir." The boy glanced nervously at Frest's
weapon hand then back stepped, crunching the toes of the boy behind him.

"I
suppose." Frest dropped his arm. "Continue what you were
saying."

"That's
it, sir." The boy waved us through without further hesitation as several
other parties now waited behind us. "Good day."

"Will
be if the prices are low enough," Frest called over his shoulder. Those of
us who understood Autlach forced a chuckle and led the way behind Frest,
descending the trail leading to the riverbanks and the mine. When we were a
safe distance from prying eyes, Stiles called a halt.

"Evangeline,
Norlynn and I will scout the area for Yauld. Rankil, you take Laszlo and
Frest." She looked up at Evangeline. "Laszlo should play mute if
she's spoken to."

"She
knows," said Evangeline. "And I have asked Trooper Rankil to look out
for her."

"Very
good. We'll look over the stock." She sneered from what I think we were
all thinking—the very idea of referring to sisters as a commodity.
"Rankil's group will make the purchases. We'll meet up and make our exit
as soon as they're done."

I
nodded and the team broke in two. Frest directed our group toward the holding
pens, but the smell alone could have led us. It was far worse than the Yauld
paints, putrid and rotting from pass after pass without proper drainage. The
pens were all designed alike—close set, horizontal and vertical bars as well as
spikes thwarting any idea of escape. The northern end of each contained a
dilapidated three-sided windbreak—the only defense against the elements.

"Now
you see why we camped topside," said Frest. "No one deserves
this."

"But
too many get just this." I said in smooth Autlach. "But not for much
longer." I turned toward Laszlo so I could translate, but her attention
was elsewhere.

"Helaine!"
She pointed to the closest pen. "Trooper Rankil, it is my friend
Helaine!" She made a step toward the pen, which I quickly thwarted.

"No."
I shook Laszlo by her shoulders. "It's too risky. You can't let them know
we're here."

"But
I thought it would give them heart." She kept her head down, as when
Evangeline disciplined her.

"It
would. But it would also draw attention to us, the very thing we don't
want." I sensed the frustration Evangeline must have felt at times.

She
is trying.
Evangeline's presence
slid, smooth and discreet into my mind. The residual pleasure had lessened but
was enough to make me clench my stomach muscles.

How'd
you get past the lens?

You
are wearing it loose enough for me to circumvent,
she said, mind silken in its flow.
Please try to be
patient with Laszlo.

Easier
said than done.
I felt our connection
sever as I turned back to Laszlo. "Will you please try to remember why
we're here?"

"Heads
up." Frest elbowed me and jerked his thumb over his shoulder. I looked
past him to see three Autlach men approaching, two in general soldier wear, the
other well dressed and wrapped in a chalk-dusted fur. He cradled a large,
mark-covered slate board in one arm, a handkerchief of fine cloth in the other.

"Morning.
The name is Voz." He gave a businesslike bow Frest returned. "Seems
your younger boy is interested in some of our finer offerings. You looking for
house or bed stock?"

"Both
if the price is right," said Frest, indicating the pen Laszlo had
approached. "What're these priced at?"

"Top
notch stock in that pen." Voz peered at Frest's simple clothing. "Let
me show you something a little more within you means."

"The
price?" Frest's face remained unemotional.

"Eighty
stones."

"Eighty!"
Frest threw up his arms. "I don't need house stock that badly. Show me
something I can use for the real work."

"If
it's strength you want then follow me." Voz referred to his slate then led
us to a larger pen as his guards followed close behind. He placed the
handkerchief over his nose when we neared the pen. "This lot is the
strongest we've got at present. They're mine veterans, used to heavy lifting,
obedient and dependable as they come."

Frest
glared at the salesman then to the skeletal forms within the pens. "If
they're so damned useful then why are they being sold off?"

Voz
had been caught by his own pitch. "Like I said, they're mine veterans. Too
many passes digging crystal can ruin the stoutest back. We sell them off long
before they reach that point. It lets them strengthen back up. A good deal for
someone with limited funds."

"You
sell them off long
after
they reach that point would be more to the point,"
snipped Frest with another glance into the pen.

"Nonetheless,
they will sell." Voz ordered his men to open the pen. "If not to you
then to someone else. These are the best I have that you can afford." He
began walking toward the pen.

"That
so?" Frest produced the bulging money pouch from under his cloak.
"Longpass says otherwise."

Voz
stopped in his tracks to spin around. "Longpass? Stars, man! Why didn't
you say so? We've been wasting time." His mood lifted as he called the
guards to close the pen. "You're not to have these walking deaths.
Longpass's stock comes from a separate area." Voz led the way down a
narrow alley between rows to a pen detached from the rest. It was cleaner than
the others, set against the mine entrance with close-set bars and a full roof.
Sisters surrounded the small fire within, and four of the largest and most
heavily armed Auts I had ever seen were posted outside the pen. Voz ordered the
pen opened, and we all stepped inside except Laszlo. "Your boy coming
in?" asked Voz. "Or is he still longing for one of those pretty
witches back there?"

"No,
he stays outside," said Frest. "He can ready the shackles. Hear that,
boy? Ready them shackles for the bitches." Laszlo opened her mouth to
speak, then remembering her supposed muteness, nodded her head.

"Dummy,
huh?" Voz clasped his handkerchief to his mouth. "This pen
reeks!" He waved his slate board toward the overflowing swill bucket.
"Thought I told you men this pen was to remain clean at all times! Someone
empty that bucket. Now!"

Frest
said nothing but covered his nose. I was secretly glad the pens stank as they
did. It did a fair job of hiding the grease paint smell and kept everyone a
comfortable distance from one another. When the air had cleared, Frest adjusted
his lens, sniffed none too deeply then watched as the slaves obediently lined
up. Spared from the degradation of mine work, these sisters appeared in
exceptional health. Frest looked in each one's mouth and amber covered eyes,
sending them to one end of the pen or the other as he sorted out the best.
"Note their upper body development and lean backs," he told me as he
worked. "They're good, strong stock, well tended and fed so they'll
maintain speed for a longer time."

"Then
this shouldn't take long." I was grateful Frest had spared me guilt by
making the selections himself. Yet, even as I kept my eyes fixed on the locked
pen door, one of the unfortunates tried to catch my attention. She blew upward
to remove the uncombed hair from her lens front. She was mid-aged, of above
average Taelach height, and her stare on me was intense, seeking the face
beneath my helmet. Frest had sent her to the far side of the pen because of her
age.

"That
gives you fifteen at ninety stones each." Voz made the appropriate tally
marks on his slate, slid the handkerchief into his pocket and extended his
hand. "Let's close the deal."

"We've
only enough bindings for twelve," said Frest.

"I
can supply you with more at a nominal fee." Voz's smiled oozed from his
mouth like lamp oil.

"Throw
in the extra shackles and we have a deal." Frest extended his hand as Voz
retracted his.

"Shackles
are costly and lenses even more so. It'll take more than that for me to make
the slightest profit."

"Slightest?"
Frest laughed. "You, sir, are making a healthy profit with every bit of
witch flesh you trade. Make it fourteen, three additional shackles, and the
girl witch my boy had his eye on."

"A
bit of distraction for the long trip home at Longpass's expense?" A
perverse smile spread across Voz's face. "Fair enough. Make your final
selections and we'll seal the bargain over a cup of wine while your boys ready
the stock for transport."

"That'll
work." Frest began sorting through his choices. The slave sisters remained
silent for their secondary examinations, but I thought they seemed very
observant of their potential new master. Frest was more concerned with their
overall health than sheer physical strength, something I have since heard is a
sign of a good master. And I, the man's slim, helmet-wearing son could hardly
bear to look at them. One of the shackled sisters dared to comment and received
a blow to her legs for speaking out of place. She buckled at the knees and
toppled forward, cursing in Taelach as she fell. The sister nearest her lunged
for the over-sized Aut who'd doled the punishment, knocking him into the cage
wall and its protruding spikes, which pierced his arm and thigh in numerous
places. Voz apologized for the disturbance, snapped his fingers, and the second
sister's throat was slit and her body impaled on the wall. Guards pulled the
first sister from the pen by her hair, her screams echoing in my head long
after she had been beaten silent.

"I'm
afraid you'll have to make your final choice from the others." Voz made
two tallies in a different corner of his slate.

"You've
given me no other choice." Frest blew out, peered at his rejects then,
with another hard breath, called them to line up again. "I should get
another gentlewoman for your men's ridiculous show of force."

"And
leave me with even less of a commission?" Voz waved his hand at the
remaining sisters. "Any of those you refused is better than anything else
I have to offer, so make your choice and be quick about it. Longpass demands
quality only because his overseers ruin anything less before they work off
their cost."

Frest
voiced disapproval but made his choice, pointing to the broadback sister who'd
stared at me. "She'll do, provided there's smarts beneath all that
hair." A guard placed the sister before him, jerking back her hair to show
her face. She didn't dare look at Frest but peered over his shoulder at me. We
locked eyes for a split second then she dropped her gaze, but not before one of
the guards struck her twice. Voz called the assault to a stop when Frest
threatened to deduct for damaged goods, then the salesman exited the pen,
calling Frest to follow so they could finalize the details.

"Let
your boys finish up," Voz said in a laugh. Then he stopped, the slightest
doubt beginning to crease his face. "You do have enough escorts, don't
you?"

"We're
one short." Frest was obviously pleased the question had presented itself.
"But I have someone in mind if I can find him."

"If
he's here, he's yours," said Voz. "My men are at your boys' disposal.
They'll bring the extra bindings." And Voz led Frest away by the elbow,
leaving Laszlo and me to prepare. There was no verbal manner in which we could
communicate that wouldn't draw attention, so I pushed a phase at Laszlo.
Try
not to look afraid. The slave sisters will sense it and try to take advantage
of you.

I
—
I'll try.
I shuddered at the lack of control
in her response then turned to the guards.

"Bring
them out one at a time so we can replace your bindings with ours, beginning
with the one who was just disciplined."

One
of the three guards remaining in the pen shoved the sister through the door,
sending her sprawling across the frozen ground.

"Careful!
Or I'll have my dah take off for damaged goods!" I dared not help the
slave sister to her feet, so I waited until she stood. Only then did I step
near, closing irons over the other woman's wrists and ankles before casting her
working shackles aside. The skin around her wrists and ankles was darker and
thicker than the rest, revealing her lengthy servitude. Laszlo saw this as well
and looked so sympathetic that I had to remind her again of her role, pointing
to the lens I now required. Laszlo startled but obeyed, holding up the lens.
Scowling, I snatched it from her hands, then slid it over the slave's head in
the same manner I'd seen Easton's lens changed, leaving the top slightly loose
so it drooped a little while I undid the other straps. My own lens sagged as
well, giving me a clear view if I tilted my head forward. The exchange of
lenses was nearly instantaneous, but the second I needed to tighten the sagging
lens allowed me to push a brief message. I expected some response, but the one
I got almost brought me to my knees.