J asper liked watching Maeves deft hands as she sewed. “Measure with your thumb/' she told him, “That way the seam won't waver. Hold your wrists like this.'' She had one hand over and one hand under the cloth, while he turned his cloth over and back with every stitch,
“Doesn't help,''Jasper said. “My hands were never meant to hold something as small and sharp as a needle.''
“You hold fishhooks.”
He chuckled. “Even a small hook's bigger than a needle, the same way my thumb's bigger than yours.”
They sat on boulders in their camp. Evan was at the stream fishing. The buggy was wedged into a space among the trees close by. Jasper had gone over the ground from the road and hoped he'd erased the traces of their passage. It was a back road, yes, not much more than a track, but he knew stripers. He kept one ear open for any unusual sounds.
“I like to sew. Evan likes to fish, and you're handy with the hooks and the coals,” she said, smiling at the cloth as she worked.
“The free know how to make the most of a fire.
“I don’t understand how you lay it so it doesn t smoke. Every time I touch a fire, it starts to smoke.'
"That's because you dunk yourself in water every day. Fire hates water," Jasper said, grinning and turning his cloth over. “You could do with a bath yourself."
“That so?" He set down his work—a trouser leg for Eyan—and carefully stuck the needle into the fabric. He stretched his arms.
"That's so."
“Maeve, sometimes I think you know everything I don’t and I've seen everything you haven't. Put us together and we know the world."
She kept sewing.“But where were going, neither of us has been."
“If we get there." No sense pretending it was a foregone certainty.
Her forehead puckered a little as she leaned closer to her sewing.“Will you come with us across the Minwenda?
“Wouldn't know what to do in the east. I'm Sliviia
born."
“If you didn't like it. I'd give you what's left: of the gold to return."
“Maeve, you've got to see we can't keep that gold with us. If they ever search me, those two delans won't buy us anything but slavery. Or death."
“I'll carry them, then."
She was always stubborn with him about the gold. He wanted to throw it in the stream, watch the water bury it in mud. He'd lived his whole life without delans, often without
even besaets. There were other ways.
“I'm done with this length," he said, standing up. “And here's Evan." The boy was waving two fat hsh. Jasper clapped him on the shoulder. "I'll help you gut them. Then I'm going
for a wash."
Maeve smiled/A wash?”
"Yes. For you, I’ll brave the cold water.”
"Will you sing, Maeve?” Evan said, plumping the fish onto a rock.
Maeve held a length of yellow cloth against her leg.
“I have lived on the borders,
My real face unseen,
but where I go now
has no boundary but dreams.
Walk with me, walk with me out of this night.
For you are my love, and you are my light ,,,.”
Jasper pulled out his biggest fishhook to gut the fish Evan had caught. Maeve’s voice took away all trouble. This tune seemed to be a favorite with her. He wasn't quite sure of the meaning in the first two lines, but he liked "you are my love, and you are my light.” She said she’d learned the song from her mother, who had learned it from the father Maeve never knew, but Jasper enjoyed pretending to himself that it was written for him.
Jasper sauntered down the dusty road toward the small village near where he, Maeve, and Evan were camped. He scuffed up puffs of dust, wearing his dull face, cap pulled low. He entered the store, where a sharp-eyed woman greeted him, the same one who’d sold him cloth.
“See you patched your trousers," she said.
Jasper scratched his head, wondering what she'd say if she could see the big pocket Maeve had sewn on the inside
of his shirt.“Need fishhooks. The big ones."
She pulled three large steel hooks from a basket. One besaet will get you three, and a small hook thrown in.
Jasper dug in his pocket for a coin.
“Where you going fishingf” she asked.
“Where the fish are."
“Ha! Where the fish are." Her quick smile vanished. “Good fishing to you, then."
“Hot many people about, he said, looking around the empty store.
“Not since those stripers come through. I had to stand here while they rummaged through my goods. As if Id hide a pair of runaway slaves!" Jasper couldnt stop the sweat from breaking out on the back of his neck. He wondered if Morlehs mercenaries had had wits enough to ask about any cloth being sold. “Wanted to know, had anyone seen a girl wearing a blue gown, and a boy with new marks. Ha a pair like that wouldn’t get through this village without being
spotted."
“Reward,’’Jasper said.
“Two delans, more than I'll see in ten years." She fussed with her apron. “Stripers wouldn't listen to me—took me hours to straighten the shambles they left. No one knows when they’ll be back.”
When Jasper left the store, he ambled out of town in the opposite direction from where he’d entered. Once alone and out of sight of the meager village, he doubled past it to get back to Maeve and Evan.
Maeve looked good in her newly finished dress, the yellow cloth against her skin like sunlight meeting a field of ripe wheat. Evan’s trousers and shirt suited him, too. Both were still without shoes, but the poorest lowborn free often
went barefoot. They'd pass.
Jasper squinted at the buggy, hidden behind the leaves of late summer. The rig, which had captured all his dreams a week before, seemed full of risk now. He was sure that every road to Mantedi would be blockaded and all buggies searched.
While they ate, he thought the problem over. When the light grew dusky, he spoke. “We've got to leave the buggy here."
Maeve looked up at him, her mouth full. She swallowed, choking a little. "Leave your new rig?"
"Can't take it with us to Mantedi. We won't ever get there if we go by the road."
Her eyes glistened. "You could go back to Slivona your^ self," she said. "You'd be safe without us."
"But you wouldn't be safe without me." The words fell from his lips before he knew he would say them. Its the truth.
She stared at him across the coals, blinking. "It's dangerous for you."
True. Jasper shru^ed."More dangerous for you."
Evan moved a little closer to Maeve. She put an arm around the boy. "Won't it take a long time to walk?" she asked.
"The longer we keep hidden, the more the chase will lose heart. We'll take turns on the horse, go the byways. If we shove the buggy deeper in the trees, maybe no one will find it."
"You'll teach me to ride?"
He grinned. "Pay you for teaching me to sew."
Her eyes were still watering. "I suppose we'd best get some sleep," she said.
"No. Got to leave tonight."
‘Tonight! But its getting dark”
He didn't want to tell her about the stripers in the vil' lage/'Maeve, my bones tell me to go, and my bones are what's kept me alive and free until now—nothing else. The moon will be out.” She put a hand to the stone around her neck. “But first ” he said, “you got to muss your clothes. New clothes get noticed. And if anyone spots us Evan, you re my brother, and Maeve, you re my wife.
“Wife?”
‘‘I’d call you my sister, but who’d believe it? You dont look anything like me and Evan.”
‘‘I'm not marked like a wife. I lived seventeen years as a slave and was never marked. I'm not going to be marked now that I'm free.” She had that stubborn look.
‘‘It’s a tiny nick at the throat. New hooks are sharp. I know how to cut so it won't hurt.”
‘‘No.” She tilted her chin.‘‘No scars.”
‘‘What if we meet a patrol?”
‘‘I'll be your cousin.”
He shook his head.‘‘My way's better. Safer.”
‘‘Your way cuts me.”
He saw he'd never persuade her, but he wasnt happy about it. And he wasn't happy about the gold.
They made everything ready. The buggy was hidden, the blankets and a cushion tied on Fortunes back, the fishhooks neatly folded into a scrap of cloth and stowed in the big pocket Jasper had inside his shirt. Maeve and Evan went down to the stream for a last drink while Jasper sprinkled dirt on the fire. When they returned, he decided to visit his favorite spot near the stream to get a drink himself
Kneeling by the stream, Jasper shook water out of his
eyes, muttering to the moon/‘Maeves right. A wash is a fine thing.” It felt good to rinse away the sweat that had dried on his skin. Am I wrong to keep the news of stripers to myself?
A chill grabbed the back of his neck. Noises in the night that shouldn't be there. Jingling spurs. A man’s voice.
Jasper glided through the trees, back toward the camp.
Moonlight banded on light-and-dark stripes and glinted off shining steel knuckles. A zind! One man. He was swinging down from a great stallion, his gloved fingers holding the reins. Maeve and Evan were staring at him as if they had no legs. Then Maeve shoved Evan, telling him to run.
The zind drew his long knife, the steel singing as though glad of the chance to be out of its sheath. Evan tugged at Maeve. She pushed him away. The zind stepped closer. “Well, this pairing is one we're all searching for. A girl, seventeen, with a young boy. The boy was said to have marks, but maybe. Miss, you shed the marked boy and picked up a stray. You look to be seventeen." The man had fine teeth; they flashed white. Maeve backed away from him, pleading with Evan to run, while the boy clung to her arm. “Gold hair. Lord Morlen said,” the zind went on, “and unless the moonlight deceives me, your hair is gold.”
Jasper knew he could melt into the night, return to Slivona and live on. He knew where a ransom in gold was buried in the north woods of Lord Hering’s woodlands. Hadn’t he done all he could? Maeves luck had run out.
May as well ask the water in the stream to run hack to where it came from, I cant leave now. He felt in his pocket for the fishhooks. He unwrapped the two biggest hooks with shaking hands.
“That's far enough, girl You seem to be fond of this boy. Take another step and I'll gladly slit his throat. The zind caressed his knife,
Jasper moved with all the stealth he could manage, working his way to the trees behind the zind, listening to the man's tormenting words. Hating him,
“Maeve," the zind said,"That's your name, isn't it? I'll gain more than the reward for finding you, Morlen never said you couldn't be touched. All he said was bring you to him alive,'' He dropped the reins of his horse. But once you re his, pretty bird, I won't have the chance to pet your feathers,''
Jasper darted forward. He plunged a hook into the stallion's haunch. The animal reared and ran. As the zind whirled, Jasper was already behind him, slamming a foot into the soft place in the back of the man's knees. The zind went down but was instantly twisting to get up, slashing with his knife. Before he could rise, Jasper dived on his neck, pounding his well-shaped nose, driving at his eyes with the other fishhook. The zind yelled and let go of his knife to grab at his face,
Jasper took up the knife. He planted it in the zinds chest, then rolled to get away. Away from the dreadful sights and sounds of death,
“There's your reward," Jasper said. He lay against the hard pillow of the earth, pressing his cheek to the ground, gasping, wondering where his breath had gone to, hearing Fortune's terrified snorts and stomping hooves, Maeve's quivering voice calming the horse, Evans voice saying. Is he dead?"
A trembling hand smoothed Jasper's hair, “Jasper, It's all right, Jasper, Here, put your head in my lap. You'll bruise your face, Evan, dear one, get some cloth and dip it in the creek,''
He rolled onto his back. He let her put his head in her lap, let her dab at his face with her sleeve. She kept smooth- ing his hair."Thank you, Jasper. Thank you.”
Evan came back with a dripping rag. “Give me your arm, Jasper,” Maeve said. “No, the other arm.” He looked at the arm she wanted him to give her. A long gash, black in the moonlight, dripping ink.
“More water, Evan,” Maeve said, sponging the gash. Jasper's flesh awoke—a fierce pain began in his arm.
“When it's clean, you must bind it tightly,” he said.
“I will.”
“Had to stop him,” Jasper whispered.“Had to.”
She went on wiping his arm.
“We need to go,” he said. “Right away.”
“We'll go. Soon.” She patted him. “It's quiet now, Jasper. No one around.”
He listened to the night, straining for any sound of danger. He heard trees whispering, heard the light bubbhng of the stream, the rustle of an animal. The world had broken in upon them, but now it seemed peaceful again. “Sing to me, Maevei*”
She began softly singing:
“... walk with me, walk with me out of this night,
for you are my love, and you are my light
Her voice steadied his heart, lifting away his anguish.
Orlo felt fine, though his stomach was empty and his body sore from riding. Lord Morlen's soldiers had taught him to
ride by putting him on a horse and telling him to keep up. The first few days of traveling to Mantedi, Orlo had fallen to the rear of the line of zind. Now he was proud that he could sit a horse well enough to stay close to Lord Morlen,
There was plenty to see from horseback as they went north. Orlo enjoyed watching the changing terrain during the days: forests, farms, rolling hills. And now there was rocky desert ahead, stretching west like an orange blanket, and a salty smell in the air, with a glimpse of ocean to the east.
Orlo hoped the search for Maeve would be over soon so Lord Morlen would be happy. Every day when the zind captain reported her still missing. Lord Morlen looked angry. Luckily, he was good to Orlo—he gave orders that Qrlo was to have as much vahss as he wished. The first day, when the vahss had worn off, Orlo’s heart had pounded against the bars of his ribs as if it wanted to get out. He didn't remember why—it was something to do with Maeve. Since then, they'd given him enough vahss to keep his heart steady all the time.
Today the flow of travelers on the road had been thickening since morning, and now it was late afternoon. Very few people were heading south, away from Mantedi— mostly farmers hauling empty carts, walking beside silent, weary-looking beasts. Orlo noticed with surprise that the foreheads of these freeborn farmers had been branded. Each of them must have met the same iron, a design that looked like a sheaf of grain.
As for those moving toward Mantedi, Orlo had never seen such a collection of humanity. Men, women, and children of every skin color, from lightest pink to velvet black. A few were well-dressed lords and ladies, looking down haugh-
tily from the high saddles of their splendid horses. Scores of slaves plodded behind them, clad in the simple garments of their class, necks and faces studded with scars. Some of the horde was made up of lowborn free, their clothes fluttering raggedly as they hurried along on foot.
When lords, -ladies, or nobles saw the line of zind, they guided their mounts to the side of the road, calling to their slaves to give way. The lowborn free tumbled into the ditches beside the road, waiting for the zind to pass. With everyone making room, Lord Morlen's group reached the gates of Mantedi quickly. The wide gateway bristled with sob diets wearing maroon uniforms, weapons glinting at their belts, faces marked with squares inside squares. Orlo stared curiously—hed never seen soldier slaves before. Lord Indol used mercenaries, as did most of the other lords in Slivona.
"Captain Lorv!” Morlen shouted. A dark-haired man in his prime stepped forward with a salute. "Did you receive the message I sent by courier. Captain?"
"Yes, my lord. We've not let anyone into the city fitting the descriptions of the runaways you seek.”
"You've detained no one?” Morlen frowned.
"There weren't any boys with fresh marks, sir, but we sifred out a group of lowborn lassies. They're in the guardhouse, waiting your inspection. The rabble began to gather, asking for their daughters and sisters back. As you ordered, I gave them vahss, and they became quiet.
Morlen nodded. "I'll see the girls in a moment. First, I've brought reinforcements to patrol the wall and to aid you here at the gate.” Morlen barked a command and the leader of the zind urged his horse forward. "Captain Lorv, meet Captain Fahd. He commands these zind troops. You will answer to him.”
Orlo had often noticed that Fahd never changed express sion. And no matter where he slept or how far he rode, Fahd's striped doublet always looked clean and new. Dont gape like a fool, Lorv/' Morlen said. Lorv closed his mouth and stood blinking at the zind. “Now, show me who you have detained.” Lord Morlen dismounted and stalked after Captain Lorv. Orlo watched them disappear into a solid wooden building a bare twenty paces away.
They soon returned, Morlen shaking his head. “Youre more of a fool than I knew, Lorv. Not one girl matched my description. Did I say fair? I said gold skin, gold hair, deep blue eyes. Did you think I put in such words for your amusement?”
“Nmo, sir, I only wanted to be certain—”
“You can be certain you have served your last day as cap- tain, Lorv.”
. Lorv instantly fell to his knees. Sweat ran over his face as if his pores had become waterfalls. “I obey your will. Lord Morlen.”
“No, you have ignored my will. You have wearied me long enough.”
Morlen signaled Fahd. The zind leader leaped from his horse. He drew the black axe from his belt. Lorv bowed to the ground. The zind captain chopped the kneeling man's head from his neck, like taking melon from a vine.
Orlo's mouth went suddenly dry; he could feel his heart pounding all the way into his fingertips. He wanted to pull his stinging eyes out of his face so he wouldn't have to see what was in front of him. A furious desire grew in him, to run at Lord Morlen and trample him.
“Thank you. Captain.” Morlen's glance flicked to Orlo. “Have one of your men give this slave some vahss. Now.”
A striped glove extended an orange flasks Orlo seized the vahss and downed it in one long gulp, then clasped the empty flask to his chest* His angry thoughts faded as his heart beat slow and quiet*
"What do you want done with the girls who have been detained in error?" asked Captain Fahd*
“Do what you like with them. Captain* Most are comely enough to be sentesans* From time to time a lovely flower springs from an untended bed of manure. Those girls would have been sold long since if their families had a particle of sense* They'll be better oflF as slaves*”
Captain Fahd showed no expression* "Shall I compensate the fathers, sir?"
"Offer them more vahss or ten besaets* See which they choose*” Lord Morlen swung back on his horse* "You know your duty. Captain* I leave you with the gate* If you can make use of my soldiers, by all means do so*" He headed up the main street of Mantedi, and Orlo followed*
With the zind left behind, they were a smaller company— only Lord Morlen's retinue and Orlo* They rode through wide streets lined with rich estates. At first Orlo thought that Mantedi must be populated only by the wealthy, but as they went farther into the city, he caught glimpses of alleys ways where grubby children played, their bones sticking out of rags and tatters* As they approached the waterfront, he was astonished by the numbers of slaves and free streaming through the streets* Many of the free looked pitifully thin* Lord Morlen was right—it was better to be a slave*
The sun had nearly set when they arrived at the ocean. A great network of piers jabbed from the shore into the water* Every pier swarmed with men, loading and unloading ships, shouting to one another* When Lord Morlen dismounted.
handing his reins to a dockhand, the pier where he stood went quiet, Orlo gave up his horse, too, and followed Lord Morlen, who strode down the long wide pier, his cloak snap- ping darkly in the wind. All the other men on the pier moved out of his way.
Lord Morlen rapped on the door of a wooden house built onto the pier, A bald man with a bull neck stepped out. He shook Lord Morlens hand,
"Evening, Warren, I trust you received my message?” "Certainly, sir, and the docks are well posted, IVe notified all the piermasters. No sign of the runaways thus far.
Lord Morlen beckoned Orlo forward, put a hand on his shoulder, "This man stays with you,” he told Warren, “He 11 help you look for them—he can ride the waterfront for you. And he can identify them once they're caught,”
Orlo looked at the ocean, at the way the suns dying rays dappled it orange. His heart beat a slow tempo, like the waves.