The Spook 9 - Slither's tale (25 page)

‘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
ageing
bodies consumed by the whoskor, the multi-legged 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 onwards. 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 rumoured 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 done.

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.

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 further, 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 colour of lead.
Within
minutes a blizzard was blowing out of the north.

As was usually the case with such early spring storms, it was, although fierce, of relatively short duration. After about six hours it began to abate, and by dusk the sky was clear. The approach of darkness caused me to delay my journey until first light: even though I was accustomed to travelling during the hours of darkness, there would be deep drifts in the foothills, making the going treacherous.

So, after feeding my horse, I settled down for the night. With no crisis looming and the delightful prospect of returning to my haizda, my mind was very calm, clear and sharp, and I began to review the events of recent weeks and re-evaluate my own role in what had taken place.

It seemed to me that I had behaved with honour and courage, and had fully discharged my obligation to Old Rowler. It was not my fault that Susan had died. I had done my best to save her. Alone, I had triumphed over a High Mage, a Shaiksa assassin and a dangerous hyb warrior. It was true that I had later worked in partnership with a human witch, but that had been necessary because of the great odds against me. Together with Grimalkin I had defeated the Haggenbrood, a wondrous achievement. Then, using the borrowed skelt blade, I had brought the mighty Eblis to his knees. How was it then that I had feared an attack of skaiium? Now, with a tranquil mind, I saw that such a thought was absurd. As a warrior mage, I had achieved near perfection.

Thus, safe from skaiium, I could afford to be generous. I
considered
little Nessa again, and recognized that she had aided me at every turn. It was true that she had done so in order to ensure her sisters’ survival, but her help had been timely and decisive. Suddenly I saw how I might repay her.

It was not possible to buy her back directly from the merchant with whom I had traded. Such a thing was forbidden. Even if, for a bribe, he agreed to the deal, my original sale would be considered void and I would no longer have fulfilled my duty. But there was another way.

Once Nessa had been sold on, I could buy her from her new owner without repercussions. No doubt it would cost me at least double what I had received for her, but money was not really a consideration for me. I could always get what I needed from my haizda. It would not even put me to much trouble. Because of the storm, her new owner would not yet have left Karpotha.

I resolved to go down to the kulad at first light and repurchase Nessa. Then I would take her south to join her sister. Of course, I would sample a little of her blood on the way. Not enough to do her any real harm. She could hardly object to that, could she?

I awoke about an hour before dawn with a vague impression that I had just heard an animal cry out in the night. I heightened my senses and listened.

Within moments it came again – there was indeed a high, thin cry. But it was not an animal. It had come from either a human or a Kobalos throat. I lifted my tail, but unfortunately the wind from the north was still brisk and carried any scent away from me.

Soon there were other cries and screams, but I yawned and took little notice. No doubt a number of the purrai were being punished, probably those who had failed to attract a buyer. It served them right for not behaving in the correct manner. In retaliation, their owners would be whipping them or slicing into their flesh with sharp knives in places that would be concealed by their clothes.

At dawn I mounted my horse and set off directly for Karpotha. I needed to reach the kulad before Nessa’s new owner left.

As soon as I crested the hill and looked down towards it, I knew that something was wrong. The gates were wide open.

I urged my horse forward across the fresh snow. It was then that I saw the tracks of many feet heading south, the snow churned up and no longer a pristine white. It seemed as if a large party of slaves had travelled in that direction. But why should that be? It made no sense at all. They should have been either going east or west towards the other slave markets, or northeast towards Valkarky itself – anywhere but south.

Then I noticed the first of the bodies. It was one of the small party of Oussa, who had escorted slaves to Karpotha. The warrior was lying face down. Beneath his head and upper body the snow had been turned to slush and stained bright red with his blood: his throat had been cut.

There were two more dead Oussa guards near the gates, and then I saw bloodied footprints heading away from the city – mostly northwards. Horses had gone in the same direction too.

What had happened? Why had they fled?

Inside the kulad there were bodies everywhere – Kobalos merchants as well as Oussa guards. The wooden platforms were slick with blood. Nothing lived. Nothing moved.

But there was no sign of the slaves – where could they be?

Then, for the first time, I noticed the shape carved into the gatepost:

This was the sign of the scissors that the witch assassin carried in a leather sheath. How could it possibly be marked here on the post? Had she returned?

No! She had not returned. She had been here all the time.

In a flash of understanding, I realized what had happened.

I had not sold Nessa at the slave market.

I had sold Grimalkin!

WHAT A FOOL
I had been to trust the human witch!

Nessa had ridden away from the camp before I awoke, and Grimalkin, in a perfect simulacrum of the girl, had taken her place, just as she had in the arena. After slaughtering many of the Oussa and merchants, the witch had then led the slaves south towards the lands of the humans and freedom.

But she still had me to deal with.

She had broken her promise not to hinder me, and now I must pursue her and bring her to account.

It took me less than an hour to catch up with the witch and the escaped purrai.

She was riding at the head of the column of slaves, and there was another rider alongside her – surely it was Nessa. The hundred or so following them, walking two by two, carried sacks of provisions; they were dressed in sensible purrai clothes and were well-protected against the elements.

I began to charge towards the witch, passing along the left flank of the column, when, to my astonishment, the purrai broke formation and came between me and my enemy. Then, whooping and cheering, they began to hurl balls of snow in my direction, making my horse rear up in panic. It was astounding and unprecedented behaviour from purrai, and my mount, hardened by magic to face even the charge of a Shaiksa assassin, could not withstand the pelting of cold wet snow.