The Bartered Bride (7 page)

Alex's amusement ended when the head lady brought in what appeared to be handfuls of golden jewelry. Expression regretful, she straightened one golden chain out.

Manacles. "Ma'af " Even as she apologized, the woman snapped the manacles around Alex's raw wrists. Ankle chains were handed to a young girl who knelt to fasten them. They were lovely, the links shaped and interwoven like jewelry, but they were still chains, the gold plate concealing a remorseless alloy. Heart sinking, Alex realized why she'd been brought to the women's quarters: because the prize in Kasan's damned game needed to took worth winning.

She was still a slave.

Gavin awoke thrumming with tension at the knowledge that this morning the Lion Game began. It would run for five days, with one die cast per day.

As he washed and shaved, he admitted privately that a small, mad part of him looked forward to the challenge-a merchant didn't become successful without enjoying competition. But the stakes in this game were too damned high. He hadn't told Alex the consequences for himself if he lost-she felt enough guilt about the risks he might face. With luck he'd win the game, they'd both leave Maduri, and she would never need to know that he'd risked ten years of his life.

After dressing in clothing that allowed him to move freely, he entered the main room. "Alex?" No answer. He called her name again without response, then looked behind the screen. She was gone. As his pulse accelerated with shock, the door from the corridor open. He spun around, ready to do battle, but it was Suryo. "Do you know where Mrs. Warren is?"

"I have been in the guard room, and they say she was taken to the women's quarters," his steward replied. "No harm will come to her there."

"Why the devil did Kasan move her?"

"It is not for common men to guess the ways of kings," Suryo said dryly. "But I have gathered more information about the Singa Mainam. You are skilled in most of the tests: swimming, diving, chess, climbing, fighting with the kris or with bare hands. You should do well." He frowned. "Information about fighting the dragon, dancing the fire, and worshipping the goddess is less clear."

"The names sound like elaborate descriptions of something mundane," Gavin observed. "I hope I don't have to fight Kasan. Even though he says there will be no duels to the death, I suspect he's very dangerous with either dagger or bare hands."

Suryo looked amused. "I myself taught you the art of pentjak and how to use a kris. You will not lose."

"I wish I shared your confidence." Gavin checked his pocket watch. "Time to go. I trust you know where the Lion Garden is."

"Indeed. Follow me, Captain."

Their route took them through the palace and down a spiral staircase cut from living stone. At the bottom, two guards flanked a massive door. Gavin blinked as he stepped through into glaring sunlight. A roar of voices struck him.

As his eyes adjusted, he found himself in the bottom of a small natural amphitheater. The door they'd just exited was cut from a sheer stone cliff that towered behind him. The opposite side of the arena had been shaped into rows of seating, with a gate that led down to the city. The excited faces of hundreds of onlookers made him feel like a Roman gladiator.

A palace official approached and bowed, then led him and Suryo across the sun-baked arena to a pavilion on the north side. Under the high thatched roof was a peacock throne woven from rattan, plus three similar but smaller seats. All were set in a semicircle around a pedestal carved from shining obsidian. On top of the pedestal rested a twelvesided die formed from aged ivory, and large as a child's fist.

When Gavin was escorted to the seat on the left, Suryo positioned himself behind, ready to advise or interpret as necessary. Than Daksa, a serene, elderly man in the robes of a Buddhist monk sat opposite. Gavin bowed courteously to the monk, then to the audience, wishing this business weren't so blasted public.

A slow rumble of drums gradually amplified until thunder echoed from the stone walls. A hush fell as men stood and looked toward the tunnel entrance.

First to emerge was Sheng Yu, chief minister of Maduri. Then two guards in elaborate ceremonial gear, followed by Sultan Kasan, regally garbed in silk and jewels, with a priceless ruby flashing in his turban. He was a westerner's fantasy of an eastern potentate-strong, rich, and powerful, a man above the laws of lesser men.

Gavin stiffened when he saw Alex among the sultan's entourage. Dressed in Maduri garments, she was beautiful and furious, glittering with golden chains as she crossed the arena with swinging strides. Kasan reached the pavilion and claimed the throne while Alex was guided to the chair set between him and Gavin. She was the only woman in the arena, present to show what the contest was about. Quietly Gavin asked, "Are you all right?"

Her eyes narrowed. "Apart from being chained and treated like a silver race cup, I'm well." Despite her thinness, in her rich garments and elaborate hair she was a splendid, exotic prize that any man might wish to win. A goddess in golden chains. No wonder her eyes blazed with anger. Kasan raised both hands for silence and began speaking Malay in a powerful voice that carried easily to every man in the arena. "We gather here to begin a Singa Mainam in which Tuan Gavin Elliott, Captain of Captains and Taipan of Elliott House, will attempt to win the freedom of the beautiful Iskandra, a high-born lady of England. He will risk his life for the sake of honor and the lady." After an approving roar died down, the sultan shouted, "Let the Game begin!"

Thinking the ceremony rather flamboyant for a New England sailor, Gavin stepped up to the obsidian pedestal when Sheng Yu said, "Make your first cast, Captain." The ivory dodecahedron was warm, like a living body. Gavin caged it between his hands and shook while he closed his eyes and imagined the result he wanted: escorting Alex Warren and her daughter from the Helena in London. When the image was so vivid he could hear the sea gulls, he opened his eyes and tossed the die onto the shining obsidian. It spun tipsily before settling into one position. Sheng Yu examined the symbol that came up. "The first task for Tuan Elliott is to climb the Cliff of Sorrows." There was an excited murmur.

Kasan gestured to the great cliff which made up the back wall of the arena. "You must climb that, plant your banner, and descend, Captain."

Gavin studied the cliff, which was nearly vertical and made of dark volcanic stone. "Why is it called the Cliff of Sorrows? "

"Twice invaders sought to attack the palace by scaling the cliff. Many men died." It was Sheng Yu who replied, and his expression implied that he wouldn't mind if Gavin suffered the same fate.

"If a banner is needed, I must send to my ship for the American flag."

"Take this." Face white, Alex unwound the narrow selendang which was draped from right shoulder to left hip, then offered it to him like a medieval lady giving her favor to her champion. "Be careful, Gavin."

He accepted the length of scarlet fabric, then bowed over her hand. "Don't worry, lass," he said softly. "I've spent a good part of my life scrambling through rigging on pitching schooners. Climbing is one thing I know."

She gave him a shaky smile, but her eyes were still worried. He took off his coat to free his arms, then wrapped the selendang several times around his waist like a sash. "Your Highness, I shall begin."

"Climb well, Captain," the sultan said. "I do not wish to see you die."

"I'll do my best to make this trial as boring as possible." Gavin crossed to the foot of the cliff, glad it would be in shade until midday. "The full force of the sun beating on the stone would make the climb much harder. Having chosen a promising route, he began to climb, ignoring the watchers who would find it much more entertaining if he fell and broke his neck.

Rock climbing was slow, patient work that couldn't be rushed. The surface was irregular enough to allow climbing, but the crumbly volcanic rock made it necessary to test each hold before transferring his weight. While easier than ascending a mast during a gale, it required strength and total concentration. A gamelan orchestra began playing, presumably to entertain the audience during his slow climb, but he never looked down to see. What mattered was the slide of bare hands and booted feet across the stone-searching, testing, shifting-when one misjudgment could mean his life. Once a lizard stuck its head from a crack and spat its tongue at his face. He was so startled he almost lost his grip. Luckily, the little beast disappeared back into its den without further challenge.

By the time he pulled himself over the top edge, he was panting, drenched with sweat, and every muscle in his body trembled with strain. The summit was a narrow volcanic ledge with a spectacular view of the island and the azure seas surrounding it, as well as ominous storm clouds in the distance. On the far side, the jumbled roofs of the palace were only a stone's throw away. He could see why the cliff had been attempted for an assault, and also why the attackers had failed.

Looking down into the arena, he picked out the forms of the sultan and Alexandra, who had moved from under the Protection of the pavilion to watch. Unwinding the selendang, he raised his arm, letting the wind whip the scarlet banner. "For America and Alexandra!" he shouted to the sky. As drums pounded below, he allowed a moment to savor the triumph. Of achievement. Then he knotted the selendang around a stone pinnacle and began his descent. Because of fatigue and the danger that overconfidence would make him careless, this was the most dangerous part of the climb. The descent took increasing concentration. He was so intent that he didn't notice that the sky had darkened until a fierce gust of wind struck when he was halfway down. Caught in the act of transferring his weight from one set of holds to another, he became unbalanced. A blast of rain slammed into him and he lost his grip. As he slid out of control down the rock face, shocked cries rose from the arena. Instinctively he scrabbled at the cliff, clutching at a tuft of weeds that pulled loose, a scrawny shrub that broke, anything to slow his fall. A terrifying lifetime seemed to pass before the clawing fingers of his left hand caught a jutting knob of stone. The jolt of his full weight exploded painfully along his arm, but his grip held long enough to find a narrow ledge with one foot, then the other. He clung there, panting, as rain hammered unmercifully. Despite a passionate desire to be on solid ground, he didn't resume his descent until he recovered his breath and composure. Finally, cautiously, he began working his way downward again.

The squall ended as abruptly as it began. By the time he reached bottom the sun was shining and his drenched garments were drying. Trying to look as casual as if he were returning from a stroll in the park, he crossed to the pavilion and bowed to the sultan. "Your Highness, I have conquered the Cliff of Sorrows, and raised my lady's banner."

"Well done!" Kasan's smile seemed genuine. "Until tomorrow's trial, Captain." Gavin glanced at Alex. She gave him a warm, relieved smile, looking as tired as he felt. "Well done indeed, my lord captain." Her soft words made him understand why medieval knights had risked their lives to win a lady's favor.

Then his gaze fell upon the ivory die where it waited silently for the next day. Triumph faded at the knowledge that surely his next trials would be worse.

Alex was pleased to be returned to the cage in Gavin's rooms. He'd been delayed by men wanting to congratulate his success, so she was waiting when he entered the sitting room. For an instant his expression was unguarded, revealing weariness and anxiety. Then he saw her and his face lightened.

"They brought you back! I'm glad, though the women's quarters were probably more comfortable." Heart lifting at the sight of him, she reached through the bars, ignoring the clank of her chains against the gilded metal. "Thank God you're all right! I lost ten years of my life when you slipped." He took her hands, and she felt a startling jolt of emotion tingle between them. Not wanting to examine that, she said quietly, "It's hard to believe that we've only just met. The circumstances have taken us so far beyond social pleasantries."

"I know. I feel the same." His deep voice was perilously close to a caress. Uneasy, she released his hands and found blood on her palms. "You're injured!" He inspected his hands as if surprised. "Only scrapes from the stone."

"They need to be cleaned. Infection can flare quickly in this climate." She bit her lip. "As mistress of my household, I was always prepared for emergencies-salves, bandages, pills, and teas as needed. Now I have nothing to work with."

"I have some salve here, I believe. The longer I stay, the more Suryo moves up from the Helena."

"If you bring a cloth and a basin of water, I'll clean the lacerations." Perhaps it was foolish to offer when it would be easier for him to tend himself, but she wanted to do something for him, no matter how small. Words weren't enough to express how she felt.

He brought a basin of water from the bedroom, along with folded rags and a small jar of basilicurn ointment. Taking a cushion, he extended one hand through the bars. Gently she washed away grit and blood, then spread ointment on the raw skin. Faint, long-healed scars showed that his hands were those of a working man, but they were also strong, well shaped, and capable. Hands that could be trusted. Gavin seemed to be dozing against the bars, but when she returned one hand and took the other, he murmured, "It's nice to be pampered."

"I suppose that usually the captain sees to others, and no one sees to him." He shrugged. "Suryo takes good care of me."

Though his steward was a fine man, it sounded very lonely. Once again she felt profound regret that Gavin's wife had died. With his patience and warmth, he was obviously born to be a doting husband and father. He deserved a pure and loving wife. Instead, all he had at the moment was her, a battered and ruined slave. But at least she could do her best to ensure his hands didn't become inflamed. She frowned when she noticed scraped areas along the side of his forehead and cheekbone. Rinsing a cloth, she reached through the bars to gently clean the abraded skin. His eyes opened, only inches from hers. Her heart accelerated at the intimacy of his nearness. It took a strong man to be so unguarded. But what she felt wasn't attraction, no. Attraction was something that the old, pre-slavery Alexandra might feel. It had no place in her present or future. Breaking her gaze away, she finished cleaning his forehead and applied the ointment. "What you need, Captain, is a bath and a good night's sleep."