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SHIANAN SANK INTO HIS familiar desk chair, feeling a vague despair.
There had been stares as he walked into the wide military yard, as he’d expected. No one had asked openly where he had been or why, but he could read the question in countless eyes. Still, that mattered little. It would be the king’s next audience which would cost him the most.
But when he’d returned to his office and found his desk stacked high with accumulated paperwork, it was insult upon injury. It would take him a week or more to catch up.
With a sigh he began to sort the papers from their stacked chaos into a sort of organization. Briefly he considered requesting an orderly. He had previously declined one because he liked the privacy of his office and quarters, and because of a slight fear that one might report on him to officers or king, but he had found Luca’s invasion less troublesome than he’d feared.
Of course, that had been Luca.
He missed Luca—missed his efficient organization and his steady friendship. He hoped his friend had found his footing in his homeland. Perhaps, when this piled work was finished, Shianan would send a letter to the Wakari Coast to confirm all was well.
He sighed. By the time this work was finished, Luca might have settled on the coast, started his own merchant house, and raised children.
He took a sheaf of training reports from Captain Alanz, flipped through them, and set them aside. The fourth squad needed work, but that was nothing new. Shianan would schedule a few extra hours with them when he had the chance. Torg could handle this request to help Sergeant Parr evaluate a handful of recruits who showed unusual promise. Shianan would see to this second group himself, though, as they had come from another company...
He had been working for a couple of hours when there was a knock at the door. “Come,” he called.
It was Harl who entered. “Good evening, sir. Welcome back.”
“Thank you, Harl. What do you need?”
“I was just to give you these, sir. That’s all.” He set a stack of papers on the desk.
Shianan eyed them resentfully. “I see.” He glanced up at the soldier, still waiting behind the desk. “If that’s all, Harl, then you may go. I have enough to keep me tonight.”
Harl nodded slowly. “Sir...”
“Yes?”
“I just wanted to say, sir, that we, I mean, there’s a lot of us who are glad to be under you, sir. If ever you need something, just say the word, sir.”
Shianan looked at him for a moment in surprise. “Thank you, Harl.”
The soldier nodded stiffly.
“Tell me, then.” Shianan laced his fingers together. “What are they saying about my recent absence?”
“All of it, sir?” Harl looked up thoughtfully. “There’s a few who said you left after seeing the king, so there was some trouble there. That’s only a few, though. Others suppose the king gave you a mission of your own. Or it’s said you went on another task for the Circle, as you’ve brought the Shard back twice.”
It was better than he could have hoped. “I see. Thank you.” He made himself smile. “If anyone asks, you may tell them on excellent authority that I’m not speaking on it.”
Harl smiled and nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“That’s all, Harl. Thank you.”
He sat for a moment after the soldier left, wondering if this quiet confidence from his men made him more valuable or more dangerous in the king’s eyes. Finally he shook his head and bent again over the desk.
He had lit two candles against the deepening twilight when another knock sounded. “Come.”
He caught a glimpse of three men as the door opened, but only one entered. He was difficult to see behind the candles placed to light the paperwork. “Come closer, please. What can I do for you?”
“You Shianan Becknam? Bailaha?”
The speaker was unfamiliar. Shianan slid his hand nearer the knife on his belt. “I am. Who are you?”
“I’m Benton Madden. I’ve come about a missing slave.”
Shianan relaxed and tried to hide his annoyance. “If you’re looking for a runaway, the officer you want to talk—”
“No, not mine, m’lord. Yours. Your own slave who’s missing.”
Apprehension washed over Shianan. Had someone finally noted that he’d stolen and sent away Luca? “I’m not missing any slaves.”
Benton Madden gave a long, disappointed sigh. “I was afraid of that. I should have known better than to believe a slave trying to avoid the mines.” He shook his head. “I wish he’d been yours, though. Frangit will be sharp, and we’ll be lucky to get our own money out of him again. Sorry to bother you, m’lord.” He turned to go.
Shianan watched him, wondering. A runaway slave had named Shianan Becknam as his master? Had someone fled Fhure? Only Luca had ever served him here in Alham, and Luca was safely with his brother across the border.
The door closed, and a few seconds passed. Then Shianan heard raised voices, a strained shout and then an angry retort.
The door was of heavy wood, but the tone caught Shianan’s ear. It was probably just the suggestion, but... Impulsively he rose and went to the door.
Benton was a few paces into the yard. Beyond him, one man held another in a close grip, twisting his arm to control him as he protested and keeping a handful of hair at the back of the neck. He turned as the door opened, dragging the struggling figure with him, and Shianan’s chest spasmed.
Three men looked at him, framed in the doorway, and a quick, eager voice urged, “Master Shianan!”
Even in the faint light Shianan could recognize the bent figure. “Let him up!” He reached for Luca, steadying him as he straightened. “King’s sweet oats, Luca—what are you doing here?”
Luca gave him a wobbling tentative grin beneath a bloody nose. “I couldn’t help it, master.”
Benton Madden stepped forward again. “We found him in Cascais, m’lord, saying he was stolen and needed returned to you. He said you’d ransom him for a thousand pias.”
“Eight hundred,” Luca said quickly, and his eyes went to Shianan’s. He looked uncertain, hopeful, afraid. “Eight hundred pias, to redeem me...”
Shianan’s mind whirled, but the overwhelming thought was to secure Luca. “I don’t have that much coin here. I can draw against my name tomorrow, if you’ll come then.”
Benton had cast a frowning look at Luca’s correction. “That will do, of course. We’ll bring him in mid-morning, if you—”
“No,” interrupted Shianan. “He stays, and you’ll collect your fee in the morning.”
Benton hesitated. “With all respect, m’lord—”
“I will write you a sale. Do you doubt I’m good for it? I will be working in this office all of tomorrow, so come at your leisure. I intend to set him on some of that work myself. And if he stays with you,” Shianan added, pulling Luca away from his captor and looking darkly at his bloodied face, “it seems he won’t be fit for service.”
The second man bristled defensively. “He was lying, we thought, about belonging to you. And he got loud when we made to take him away. Why’d you say he wasn’t yours?”
“I said I wasn’t missing anyone,” Shianan corrected. “Why didn’t you mention his name? He told you he was stolen, yes? Well, I thought he was lost for good.” He nodded toward the office door. “Go inside, Luca, and clean yourself up. If you two will step in, I’ll write a sale for you.”
He hastily scribbled a contract—“thank you, I’ll see you in the morning”—and locked the door behind the traders. In the living quarters, Luca had set lights and was sponging at his nose. Shianan paused as Luca turned, and for a moment they stared at one another.
Luca broke the silence first. “I’m so sorry, Master Shianan. I couldn’t think of anything else but to say that I was yours, and they never would have brought me this far without profit. I’ll earn it back for you, I’ll hire myself out—I’ll make it up somehow.”
Shianan ignored this. “Luca, what happened?”
“Eight hundred—it will take time, but I’ll earn it back—”
“Luca,” Shianan interrupted firmly. “I am not worried about the money. I would have paid far more. Didn’t I tell you no one could afford your price?”
Luca looked at him with surprised eyes as he lowered the reddened rag.
He was too pale behind the blood. “Sit. Do you need something to drink?”
Luca gave a half-smile. “The irony, master.”
Shianan cast him a reproving look. “I can handle a bottle myself, thank you.”
“No, please, I’d better have water. I don’t trust my head to anything stronger yet.”
Shianan brought a cup and sat to face him. “What happened to your head?”
“I proved a few weeks of training with a staff does not enable me to hold my own.” Luca reached to probe gently at the side of his head. “The swelling’s mostly faded, I think, but I still have aches.”
Shianan rose. “What kind of aches?”
“Dull, slow... I want to sleep. A constant dull fuzz, not coming and going.”
“Give me that light.” Shianan stood over him and parted his hair, frowning. “You have some bruising yet, but it’s old. Look me in the eye.” He studied the pupils, watched how they followed his movement. “I’ll guess you didn’t have a proper chance to recover?” He returned to his chair. “You’ll sleep long tonight, see how that does for you. Tell me where you’ve been.”
Luca laughed grimly. “Oh, Master Shianan, it’s a tale worthy of song. I have been a draft slave and the enslaved master of a slave. I have been a stranger from the eastern desert and a leper. I have been the homecoming guest of honor and the impostor of a dead man. I have been abducted by bandits and sold into slavery. And I have now been over the table six times, which could surely earn a prize if there were one.” He held up a hand tiredly to indicate the new wrist cuff.
Shianan stared, his heart twisting in his too-tight chest. “Didn’t you go back with Jarrick?”
Luca took a breath. “I did. And I was freed, and I even went home. But—it was no home to me, that’s the quickest way to say it. It’s all I think I can say on that for now. And so I was coming back here, as a freeman.”
“Here?”
“I wanted to take up business. I had a potential partner, or at least someone who might need an assistant.” He stopped and dug the heels of his hands into his eyes. “I was so close. I had money, prospects, a place I wanted to go.” He huffed a grim sob of a laugh. “Well, at least I got to where I wanted to go.”
“What happened?”
“Our caravan was attacked. Hired guards were part of it. They took the cargo, the people, everything. We were sold as slaves. I didn’t want to go to the salt flats, so I told those two I’d been stolen and you would pay double my purchase price.” Luca paused. “Thank you.”
Shianan shook his head. “I told you, I’m not worried about the money. But I’d meant for you to be a freeman. You had your family and your homeland.”
Luca looked frustrated. “I told you, I chose to come. I wanted to find a place where no one knew me, where I could make a fresh start.” He looked down at his cup. “I haven’t made much of a start, have I?”
Shianan rose. “Finish your water and go to bed. You need rest, that’s obvious, and the story can wait until morning.” He reached beneath the bed and dragged out the rolled mattress. “Here.”
Luca glanced at the mat. “You still have it?”
“What would I have done with it?” Shianan hesitated and looked at the returned slave. “You weren’t supposed to need it again.”
Luca made a half-hearted smile. “Sorry, master.”
“King’s sweet oats.” Shianan shoved the mattress across the room, too fiercely. He lowered himself into a chair and rested his forehead against his hand. “Luca...”
He heard Luca shift in the chair. “I didn’t want it to be this way. I didn’t want to ask anything of you.”
“That’s not it at all.” Shianan blinked away traitorous tears. “I’m angry with myself for being glad you’re back.”
Luca stared at him, and then Shianan saw the rigidity drain from his shoulders. “I’m glad to be here,” he answered, his voice almost a whisper. He laced his fingers together and squeezed his knuckles white. “I have been a Furmelle slave, I have suffered daily abuse at the hands of the Gehrn, I have been a draft slave. I do not wish to be a slave, but this is the least of the three years of hell I have endured.” He straightened and looked levelly at Shianan, drawing a breath. “But this I do say to you: do not sell me again, not even toward my freedom.”
Shianan looked away. “I meant well by it. I thought you should go to your brother.”
“It was not so simple as that.” Luca’s throat worked visibly in the candlelight. “You sold me. The only thing I ever asked, the only thing you promised.”
Shianan sighed and rubbed his face. “I’m sorry, Luca. I am. I only... I meant well, believe me. That’s all I can say.”
“That was the only time you treated me as chattel, as a thing. I hadn’t known that you could.”
The words scorched Shianan like coals. The ground shifted beneath him, and he saw for the first time what it had been for Luca—not what Shianan had meant, but what had actually been. For a moment he couldn’t breathe.
He struggled for a response, keenly aware nothing could be adequate, and found only self-loathing and questions. “Then—then why did you come here again?”
Luca looked steadily at him. “I had the idea that, if I did, you might say you were sorry for it.”
For a moment Shianan could not answer. Words could not be sufficient. But at last he forced his mouth to work. “I’m sorry.”
The short sentence burned. He had thought Luca was only hesitating to approach what he really wanted, just as Shianan did. He had not imagined Luca might not have wanted family and freedom, that he might have considered Shianan’s liberation a betrayal. Sick horror filled him at what he had done, what Luca must have thought of him. “I thought it was the best thing for you.”
“At first, I didn’t see how you could,” Luca said. “But then I realized why you had.”
Shianan closed his eyes, as if that could stop Luca from penetrating his soul and seeing all. “I am sorry. Luca, I am so sorry.”
“I understand it now, I think. But do not do it again.”
Shianan opened his eyes and met Luca’s gaze. “No.”
The word hung between them, too small for its significance.
Shianan took a breath. “We can write to your brother, buy you passage—”
“Don’t.” Luca shook his head and winced as he moved too quickly. “I can’t go back. Not yet. Not—not now.”
Shianan wanted to ask, but there was too much laid bare tonight. Luca would explain when he could.
“All I could think of was making it to Alham. I can’t think of what’s next, not yet. I just needed somewhere before I could even think...” Luca raised his eyes and fixed them on Shianan. “It seems you have the keeping of me now.”
Shianan’s chest tightened. “You...” He placed his hands on his knees. “That is a heavy burden.”
“It does not seem to be mine to manage.” Luca smiled for the first time, grim and determined.
“You may not wish to stay near me, Luca. I’m a target for Prince Alasdair, I’ve angered the king, and Prince Soren himself had to root me out of my hiding hole. I don’t know that I’ll make a good master for either of us.”
“Then I’ll have to ferret out some more fraudulent accounts, I suppose.”
Shianan smiled, his face flexing stiffly. “I’ll be happy to have you to do it.” He gestured. “Go to bed. You look like you were dragged the entire length of the road.”
Luca nodded gingerly and started toward the mattress. He hesitated as he toed off his worn boots. “Master Shianan. The bandits near Cascais, are they—could someone be sent to—”
“A squad will be dispatched.”
“They took other prisoners.”
“We’ll sort it out tomorrow, Luca. A night more won’t make a difference. You need rest and I need—’soats, I don’t even know what I need. Go to sleep.”
“Good night, then.”
Shianan went back to the unforgiving stack of paperwork, leaving the door to the living quarters ajar for no reason he could define. He was glad Luca had come back, glad beyond all excuse. King’s oats, if Soren had not urged him back, if he had delayed only a few hours, he would have missed Luca entirely.
And how could he be pleased that Luca was a slave again?
But something Luca had said... Yes, it was good to have a friend near again. It was good to have someone nearby to trust wholly.