Iwaited for her to keep on. She did not. She stood looking into the shadows. She had told me these things as if from a distance, as if they had happened long ago to someone else. If either of us was outraged and furious, it was myself.
This man Charkosh, a man I had never laid eyes on, had harmed her. I hated him for it. A total stranger had become, instantly and forever, my enemy. I was shaking with anger. Among all the wild notions galloping through my head, I wished him here in front of me. Baksheesh could not have held me back.
Shira was steadier than I. “And so,” she said at last, “are the ones I love best alive? Or dead? I know nothing of what happened to them after that night. Could my father have survived his wound? Could my mother, my brother, my dear Dashtani have escaped? Have they been spared?
“If somehow they lived through it, I can only rejoice and be grateful. If they did not, I can only grieve for them. And swallow down my grief. One way or another, I have to know. To leave that question unanswered—part of my own life would be missing. Do you understand that?”
I said yes, I thought I did. Then I asked about Charkosh.
“I don’t know.” She shook her head. “Alive and in good health, I hope.”
“What?” I said. “You wish him well?”
“Yes,” she said. “Someday, with luck, I may see him again.” At this, she brightened. “Oh, yes. Then I’ll kill him.”
I could hardly blame her. It did bring me up short, though, hearing the one I had given my heart to—as, indeed, I had— talk cheerfully about murdering somebody. She frightened me a little.
There had to be more to her account. I was not sure I wanted to find out, but I had to. So I asked her. Then half wished I hadn’t.
After a time, she began again: “When my senses came back, I found myself roped to one of the pack mules. How long we had been on the road, I had no idea. By then, we must have gone some good distance from the inn. We halted once, as I remember. Charkosh lifted me off the mule and let me sit on the gravel.
“He made me eat a little food. I threw it up. He let me drink some water. I think he must have drugged it so I’d stay quiet. I could not keep my eyes open. For a while, those last moments at the inn came to me again and again. Then, nothing.
“After some days—exactly how many I don’t know, for I had lost track of time—I began feeling a little better. I was able to eat what I was given; my head cleared enough for me to think about how I would escape and make my way home. Also, I wanted very much to kill him. I thought about it a lot. I believe it kept up my strength more than food or water.
“By then, I was no longer thrown over the back of the mule, but allowed to sit astride. Though my hands were still tied, it was more comfortable. A couple of times a day when they stopped to rest, Charkosh unknotted the ropes so I could stretch my legs and rub my sore muscles.
“He spoke little to me, but his eyes were always on me, as they had been at the caravanserai. Once, close to nightfall, when I had lain down on the ground, he came and squatted beside me. From the look on his face, I guessed what he had in mind. Then he hesitated and seemed to think better of it.
“ ‘Only a fool spoils his own merchandise before he sells it,’ he said. Then he added, ‘I’m doing you a favor. One day you’ll thank me.’
“I spat at him and told him I’d kill him before that.
“I thought he would strike me. He only wiped his cheek and laughed:
“Sometime after that, we caught up with his companions who had left the inn ahead of him. Along with them, I saw a dozen men or more and a few half-grown boys roped together in a straggling column. I knew for certain what I already suspected. His trade goods were slaves.
“I thought, at first, they had been taken by force, as I had been. I was wrong. They were kept apart from me; but, as I pieced together from talk among their guards, most came from villages whose people were glad enough to sell and be rid of them. Some were slow-witted, some had done one crime or another. Some had sold themselves to gain money for the sake of their families. As far as Charkosh was concerned, it was no more nor less than a matter of business.”
I had heard nothing of such trade beyond a few words dropped here and there in Magenta. I was dismayed and not a little sickened, and I said as much to Shira.
“The cargo ships from Sidya have oars as well as sails,” Shira answered. “Who plies the oars? Slaves, for the most part. It is not work that many take on willingly.”
I remembered Baksheesh telling me, when we first met, that the world was a terrible place; and I would be astonished at what people did for money. And I was.
But—villagers selling their own folk? What kind of men were these?
“No better nor worse than any others, I would think,” Shira said. “They do what comes to hand. And men like Charkosh find ways to profit from it,” she added.
I was glad to say that in Magenta we had no part in such a business.
“Do you tell me your own merchants do not benefit one way or another?” she said. “It is just a little cleaner.”
I had never thought of Uncle Evariste in that light. It annoyed me that I had no ready answer.
“And so we kept southward,” Shira went on, “with Charkosh gathering more of his merchandise along the way. We soon had a good number. Nights, they slept on the ground, but Charkosh had put me in a small tent by myself. I was fed well enough, better than his own comrades. Not out of kindness. I realized he wanted me to make a good appearance. Like fattening a chicken before taking it to market. By then, I understood where we were going.
“Many towns are famous for the goods they sell. Some for their carpets, some for jade, some for handiwork in gold or silver. We were going to Akkar. I had heard travelers tell of it. Near the coast, close to Sidya. It was the biggest slave market in Keshavar.
“I thought, first, of trying to break free before we reached Akkar. I was no longer guarded all that closely. His men were busy watching their other prisoners, and Charkosh didn’t seem greatly concerned with what I might do. Had I run off, they would have caught me before I went any distance. The countryside itself was the best and harshest of prisons.
“I knew nothing of the roads or trails in these parts. Even if I made good my escape, I would have been lost among the barren hills. Without food or water, I would surely have died. This I was determined not to do. So I bided my time until I saw what lay in store.
“After another week or so, we came into Akkar, a big jumble of a town. It was midday by then, hot and dusty. Wooden pens like sheepfolds lined all sides of the hard-packed earth of the marketplace. There seemed as many people in the square as in the pens, many haggling with the dealers but most looking on out of idle curiosity or amusement.
“Charkosh and his companions herded their merchandise into the largest of the enclosures, which I assumed was his customary place of business. I started to follow them. Charkosh held me back.
“ ‘Did you think I’d have you muck in with those animals?’ he said. ‘No. You are already spoken for.’
“Seeing me uncertain about what he meant, he explained, with great satisfaction, that he had sent word to one of the local nobility. The matter had been settled in advance. We stood waiting while buyers and onlookers jostled around us and the dealers hawked their goods at the top of their voices.
“After some while, the crowd parted to make way for a band of horsemen. I counted four, and one riderless white mare. They dismounted. One of them approached us. He was richly dressed, long-armed, long-legged, without a trace of beard on his bony face. He was not himself the noble I expected, for Charkosh addressed him as ‘mehmandár’—a chief steward’s title. They spoke familiarly to each other. I supposed Charkosh had often dealt with him.
“Charkosh untied my hands to make me lift up my arms. I pulled away. He shrugged.
“ ‘These half-breeds are stiff-necked,’ he said. ‘But so much the better, eh?’
“The mehmandár gestured at me with a twirling motion of his finger. I did not move.
“ ‘Naughty, naughty,’ he said to me. He and Charkosh laughed. The mehmandár added, ‘His Excellency will find that entertaining.’
“He nodded approval and took a purse from his robes. Charkosh held out his cupped hands. The mehmandár began counting coins into them. A hush fell over the bystanders. These were not common trade-currency but gold pieces.
“ ‘Continue,’ said Charkosh as, at one point, the mehmandár stopped. ‘The price agreed on.’
“ ‘Mirza, you forget my commission,’ the mehmandár said.
“ ‘Mirza,’ said Charkosh, ‘your commission has already been taken into account, has it not?’
“ ‘Ah—indeed, so it has,’ the mehmandár said, with a sour twist of his lips.
“The onlookers stared as he grudgingly doled out one coin after another. Charkosh fixed his eyes on the mounting heap.
“ ‘More yet,’ he said. ‘It doesn’t please me to be stinted.’
“With his attention given to keeping close count of the price he demanded for me, I saw my best and only chance.
“I clenched my fists, thrust them under his outstretched hands, and struck upward.
“My sharp blow sent the coins flying into the air. The onlookers gasped in happy astonishment as gold pieces rained down on them.
“Charkosh, cursing, dropped to his knees to scoop up the scattered coins, as did the mehmandár. The guards left their mounts and ran to help their master. The bystanders scuffled among themselves to snatch all they could.
“Amid this mad scramble, I slipped through the crowd and jumped astride the mare. The startled animal bolted from the marketplace. Passersby stumbled out of her path. Street vendors flung aside their trays and baskets to escape the mare’s hooves. She knew her way better than I did; I clung to her back as she plunged through narrow lanes and twisting alleys until we burst free of the town.
“Once on the road, I was able to calm the frightened mare and turn her northward to follow the coastline. I hoped to reach Sidya and lose myself there.
“I glanced back. Far behind, the guards, the mehmandár, and Charkosh himself must have recovered enough of the money and their wits to gallop after me.
“Sure they had seen me, I urged the mare off the road, sprang down, and sent her streaking into the uplands. I calculated they would follow until they saw she was without a rider. By then, I would be well on my way to Sidya.
“I slept in the bushes by day and kept in the shadows as I walked by night. In Sidya, I stopped at the first inn I came to and asked for work of any kind. Whatever his suspicions, the landlord did not question me. He was glad for an added pair of hands. Afraid Charkosh might somehow track me down, I thought it safer to dress in men’s clothing, which the landlord was good enough to provide. The rest, you know.”
Hearing her ordeal, I would gladly have taken her in my arms and comforted her. Exactly how, I was unsure. In any case, she did not appear to wish or need it. She had told me she owed me a debt. She seemed satisfied she had paid it.
“Kharr-loh,” she said, “something more you should know. Understand it now. One day, I will leave you.”
This set me on my heels. I began thinking she had a gift for putting me off balance. First, she let me believe she was a boy named Rabbit. Then, she reproached me for defending her. She had let me hold her hand. And now she calmly told me she intended to leave me.
I asked what I considered a profoundly sensible question:
“Why?”
“Because I must,” she said. “Sooner or later, our ways have to part. You must do what you set out to do. As I will. I hope the best for both of us.”