The Sweetest Spell (25 page)

The queen returned to the yellow couch, once again arranging her skirt as she sat. “There are no slaves in Anglund. Slavery is against our husband’s law.”

“They were taken. I saw them taken,” I insisted. “And I know they are being forced to work.”

“We don’t see how they are being forced.” She fiddled with one of her rings. “But if what you say is true, then there has been an unfortunate breakdown in communication.”

“I want them freed,” I said. “I want them sent home.”

“This is a simple matter. We shall issue a proclamation immediately that any dirt-scratcher who wishes to leave the mineral fields may do so.”

“I’d like my father brought here so he can live with me.”

She curled her stained lip. “Another dirt-scratcher living here? Is this necessary?”

“It is.”

“Very well. We shall send for him.” She leaned back against
the couch cushions, tapping her pointed shoe on the floor. “Is there anything else?”

I slid my hands into my pants pockets and considered for a moment whether I was pushing this too far. I had taken her patience to the brink and wouldn’t have been surprised if she ordered my immediate execution. Surely the Oaks would do everything they could to find Peddler. But then Owen’s face filled my mind. Before I made my final request, I remembered Lara’s instructions.
Always include something you’re willing to give up. That makes them believe they’ve won something
.

“There are two more things.”

She clenched her jaw. “We wait with bated breath.”

“There is a murderer by the name of Peddler. He killed a Wander boy named Owen Oak. I want you to send soldiers to find him and, once he’s found, take him to Wander so he will hang for his crime.”

She cocked her head. “Who was this Owen Oak to you?”

“A friend,” I said, looking away. “Just a friend.”

“And the last demand, dirt-scratcher girl?”

“That you stop calling me dirt-scratcher girl. My name is Emmeline.”

She darted to her feet. “You expect us to call a dirt-scratcher by name?”

This time I retreated, stepping back with a submissive bow of my head. “I did not mean to upset Your Majesty. I am willing to drop my last demand.”

She strode up to me, then reached out and brushed a finger
over my cheek. Her voice returned to its sweeter tone. “Who would have guessed that a dirt-scratcher girl would prove to be a good negotiator? We admire your determination. Except for your name, you shall have everything you’ve asked for. But in return, you must swear your loyalty to us. You will become our Royal Chocolatier until the day you die. Do you swear your service and loyalty?”

“I swear,” I said.

She gently touched a lock of my hair, then pulled her hand away quickly as if she’d touched poison. “Never again make demands of us,” she warned. “We can make your life pleasant or we can make your life unpleasant. Never forget this.”

Suddenly I felt as if a carpet had been rolled around me and I was back in Peddler’s wagon.

The road to the mineral fields perched high above the sea and was barely wide enough for the wagon to maneuver. Sheer mountain walls rose on one side, while a steep cliff dropped to the ocean on the other side. Dizziness rippled over me as I clutched the bars of the cage and looked down at the crashing waves. The wagon’s wheels rolled close to the cliff’s edge. We’d meet certain death if the horse lost its footing. Why hadn’t I ever learned to swim?

“How much farther?” I asked our driver, a hunchback with a sour odor. The soldier who sat next to the driver delivered a sharp jab with the end of his sword through the cage bars, right between my shoulder blades. I expected a laugh from my one-eyed companion, but he glared at the soldier.

“Leave him be,” he growled. “He’s mine to kill.”

Why the one-eyed man hadn’t killed me yet was beyond me. He’d had plenty of opportunity. He could reach across and wrap
those gargantuan fingers around my neck and I’d have no way to escape.

“You know,” I said, thinking maybe I could defuse the situation. “Instead of killing me, could you teach me some of your barefist maneuvers?”

He raised his huge head. “You trying to be funny?”

“No,” I insisted. “I’m serious. You’re a great fighter. The only reason you …” It would be best to avoid the word
lost
. “Only reason you
tripped
was because you’d been drinking. I know you would have beaten me. Look at the size of your hands. I’d have no chance against fists that size.” I didn’t point out the scar that glowed on his forehead—a result of our first fight. The flattery did its job and the man’s scowl softened.

“You were lucky I was drunk,” he said.

“Agreed.”

He leaned across the dirt-scratcher boy, who whimpered as if he feared being crushed. “You and me, we can work together,” the one-eyed man whispered. “That’s what I’ve been thinking. As soon as they let us out of this cage, you take the driver and I’ll take the soldier.”

Escape was part of my plan too. I’d thought about waiting until I’d found Emmeline’s father. I’d tell him how his daughter had become the most famous girl in all of Anglund and that she had her mind set on buying his freedom. But now that the king himself wanted Emmeline, she’d have no problem negotiating her father’s freedom. So if my opportunity to escape came before I met him, well, then so be it. No one was negotiating my freedom.

“We can’t escape with these chains around us,” I told the one-eyed man.

He leaned closer, his breath as rank as his personality. “After we kill them, we’ll get the key.”

“There’s no key,” the boy said, his voice muffled by the one-eyed man’s back.

“What are you talking about?” I asked.

He peered around the gigantic shoulder. “I heard the soldier say he doesn’t have the key. It’s to keep us from escaping. Someone at the mineral fields has it.”

“We’ll have to wait until we get to the mineral fields,” I told the one-eyed man. He grunted, then nodded. I’d made a deal to help him, so that probably meant he wouldn’t be killing me anytime soon. Nice to know.

The road took a sharp turn away from the sea, and soon after, the wagon rolled to a stop. The soldier leaped off the driver’s bench and unlocked the cage. “Out,” he ordered as the gate swung open. With the chain dragging between us, we three shuffled through the gate and jumped onto the ground.

“Look,” the dirt-scratcher boy whispered.

Fear gripped my gut. What stretched before us was born from a nightmare.

We stood at the edge of a vast and deep chasm, within which the entire town of Wander could have fit six times over. Mountains ringed the chasm. Yellow air hovered within. No trees grew here, no shrubs or grasses. Rock and dirt ruled this place. Far below, a few buildings stood in a cluster. Movement caught my eye. I squinted
into the haze. Was that a line of people? From this far up they looked like insects. I couldn’t tell the color of their hair. Maybe Emmeline’s father was in that line.

“Walk,” the soldier ordered, pointing to a trail.

“If you want us to walk, shouldn’t you take off these chains?” I asked, just in case the boy was wrong and the soldier did possess a key.

“Chains don’t come off until you’re in the pit.” The end of his sword greeted me just behind the knee. “Walk!”

The trail was deadly steep, just a series of narrow switchbacks cut into the mountain wall. Having the one-eyed man take the lead didn’t give me much confidence. His footsteps were clumsy, his center of balance somewhere in his chest. At each sharp switchback I feared the top-heavy oaf would topple over. If the half-starved dirt-scratcher boy fell, we could easily pull him back to safety. But if the one-eyed man fell, we’d all meet our end at the bottom of the pit.

“What’s your name?” I asked the boy, trying to take my mind off the danger.

“Billy. My name is Billy Weed.” A quaver broke his voice.

“Don’t worry, Billy Weed. We’re not going to fall.” Had I managed to sound confident? Because I wasn’t.

With cautious footsteps, I followed. Rocks broke free beneath my steps, tumbling into the void. At the fourth turn I looked back. The soldier and driver watched our progress from the top of the trail. Guess they weren’t going to visit the lovely land that lay below. The soldier, who was drinking from a jug, didn’t seem too concerned that we’d escape. There was nowhere to go but down.

That’s when I stumbled. Distracted by my thoughts, I’d stepped off the trail. Teetering at the edge, I waved my arms, desperately trying to regain my balance. “Hey!” Billy cried out. “He’s gonna fall!” The yellow air waited to welcome me into its stagnant folds. So this was how it was going to end? I cursed and just as the ground beneath my feet gave way, a hand reached out and pulled me to safety.

“Thanks,” I said, looking up at the soggy lid of the one-eyed man. I wasn’t stupid enough to believe he’d saved me for any altruistic reason. By saving me, he’d saved himself. But I was still grateful.

We trudged our way downward. I never looked over my shoulder again, my gaze focused on my feet. Every muscle in my legs ached, the chain heavy around my ankles. As we descended the air thickened with floating specks. A bitter taste invaded my mouth. Billy coughed. The world had turned yellow. Even the one-eyed man, paces ahead of me, took on a yellowish tint through the hazy air. Switchback after switchback we hiked and then, finally, we stepped onto flat ground.

“Only three of you?” a soldier asked as he walked toward us. He was bare-chested, his swan-crested tunic tied around his waist. His skin glistened with grime and sweat. Who could blame him for the relaxed appearance? It was hot as hell down there. The yellow air seemed to catch the sun and amplify it. “Don’t know how they expect to find gold if they don’t send more men,” he complained, rubbing the back of his neck. He looked Billy up and down. “What am I supposed to do with you? You’re too scrawny to dig.”

“If he can’t dig, then why not let him go?” I asked.

The soldier laughed. “That’s a good one.” Then he furrowed
his brow. “You two ain’t dirt-scratchers. What’d you do to get sent to this hole?”

“I met the wrong tax-collector,” I said.

He nodded. “And you?” he asked the one-eyed man. “What’d you do?”

“I killed a man in a barefist fight,” he answered between clenched teeth.

So that’s what happened. A punch to the windpipe could have done it, or a neck that snapped on impact. But the question lingered—had it been an accident?

“Barefist?” The soldier’s eyes widened. “We got a fight circle here. The winner gets extra food. You interested?”

The one-eyed man spat onto the dusty ground. “I’m always interested in fighting.”

I didn’t volunteer my services. Not yet. Best to wait and check out the situation.

A cart rolled by, pulled by a man who had lost patches of his black hair. The man’s gaze was downcast, his steps slow and heavy. Four bodies lay in the cart, none red-haired. “How’d they die?” I asked the soldier.

“Don’t live long working in a place like this. Wet lung gets them eventually. It’ll get us all.”

I could already feel the floating particles working their way down my throat. I tried spitting them out, but they returned with each new breath. “How long does it take to get wet lung?”

“Depends. Some men live a few months, others a year or two.” He held out his hand to me. “Name’s Wolf. That’s what you call
me. We got no formalities down here in the mineral fields. What’re your names?”

I shook his hand. He seemed a friendly fellow, though I don’t see how anyone could be cheerful in this wretched place. “Owen.”

“Billy.”

The one-eyed man hesitated. Then he grunted, “Henry.”

“Didn’t have you pegged as a Henry,” Soldier Wolf said with a laugh. “Well, better get you started on your work. Come with me.”

The chain dragged across the rocks as we followed. Steam rose from holes in the ground. The scent of boiled eggs stank up the air. My gaze darted here and there, looking for any possible means of escape. The path we’d taken appeared to be the only entrance and exit. That would prove problematic. But no one stood guard at the path so that was in my favor.

Six soldiers, all shirtless, stood at the side of a building in a patch of shade. They paid no attention to us, their shoulders slumped with weary surrender. I wiped a bead of sweat as it rolled down my neck. “Why are you here?” I asked Wolf.

“I got reassigned cause I broke some laws.” He shot me a wicked smile. “I let a few people get away with not paying the king’s taxes. Well, maybe it was more than a few.” He spat out a wad of phlegm. “They’ll be tossing my dead body into the pit just like those other poor bastards, unless I can figure a way to get back into the king’s favor.”

We headed toward another building, its walls made from thin sheets of pounded metal. Another group of soldiers mingled at the door. Armed with swords and whips, they watched us warily from
beneath sweaty brows. Soldier Wolf led us to a pile of shovels. Then he reached into his pant pocket and pulled out a ring of keys. “I’m going to unlock the chain. But you see those men?” He tilted his head at the soldiers. “They’re so bored, they’ll kill you for no reason at all. Take my advice and don’t tempt them by trying to escape.” Then he knelt at our feet and unlocked the padlocks. The chain fell away, leaving my ankles feeling suddenly weightless. Henry, the one-eyed man, caught my gaze. His fists clenched and I knew he was thinking of escape. I shook my head. This was not the time. Not in daylight. Not with that group of bloodthirsty thugs eyeing us. Henry seemed to read my thoughts. His fists relaxed.

“The dirt-scratcher will work in the caverns with the others,” Soldier Wolf said. He picked up a shovel from a pile and handed it to Billy. Then he folded his arms and stared at Henry. “If you’ll fight tonight, I’ll keep you out of the caverns. You can work in the kitchen.” Henry agreed with a grunt.

“What about you?” Wolf asked. “I can keep you out of the caverns too if you’ll fight in the circle.” A grin spread across his face. “You probably won’t last long against one-eyed Henry here, but at least my men would have some entertainment.”