11: THE COMING STORM

(Kihrin’s story)

Eventually, I went up on deck. Staying in our room felt like being trapped in a wooden crate: the passenger cabin on board The Misery was smaller than a water closet. It fit four people, in theory.

I was in a mood to find whoever had come up with this “theory” and beat their head against the railing.

A bulky, Zheriaso-built ship, The Misery shuttled slaves bought in Kishna-Farriga and Zherias to Quur, where the good citizens of the Empire bought them for a variety of unsavory uses. The ship possessed the usual number of masts and sails, and a deck of slave-rowers in the bowels—to speed passage in poor wind or navigate tricky port dockings.

I am more familiar with the rowers’ galley on The Misery than I care to remember, even now.

The slave holds were further divided into levels, or ’tween decks, by thick iron gratings. These quarters housed the majority of the slaves with ceilings so low that a small woman wouldn’t have room to stand. The ’tween decks made our passenger cabin seems like the height of grand privilege.

The cargo deck had been emptied of all but trade goods (maridon tea, sugar, barrels of sasabim brandy, Eamithon pottery) when The Misery had brought me to Kishna-Farriga as a slave, but no longer. Captain Juval had stayed in port only for as much time as was necessary to drop off his cargo and pick up the next batch of victims. He probably planned to buy more in Zherias^* before the trip across the Galla Sea to Quur. I wondered how many times he’d made the trip, how many lives he had bought and sold.

I took perverse pleasure in putting myself where the Captain could see me. Watching his eyes slide right past me without recognition helped smooth the occasional impulse to use a dagger to sever his spine. Juval was in a sour mood too, growling and snapping at every crew member who came near.

Perhaps he’d heard the news of my final sale price. He’d been in such a hurry to get rid of me that he’d taken a flat fee instead of staying in Kishna-Farriga for a percentage. Juval didn’t realize he’d gotten the better end of the bargain.

Teraeth sat on one of the grates covering the slave holds, fingers laced around the iron bars as he stared down. The sailors gave him a wide berth.

I wasn’t surprised. He might look like a Quuros and sound like a Quuros, but the illusion wrapped around him couldn’t hide his menace.

Teraeth looked up and saw me watching.

We stared at each other for a few moments. He motioned me over.

I avoided looking into the hold.

“I’m sorry when I said you were nothing but a slaver. Khaemezra explained things, and—”

“Look.” He pointed through the grating.

I felt no compulsion to follow his orders, a reminder his mother carried my gaesh. “I know what slaves look like, thanks. I just wanted to say—”

“Look, damn you!” He reached up, grabbed the corner of my robe, and dragged me to his level. “This is what you are.”

I pulled at his fingers with my hands. “You don’t need to remind me I’m a slave.”

“You think I mean you’re a slave?” He scoffed with a whispery sharp voice. “They don’t care that you’re a slave. Look at them. Really look. Do you see them? Men, women, children. Some of them won’t live to see the end of this journey. Others will start their lives of concubinage early and rough. They come from a dozen nations, some from villages so small they didn’t know they had a ‘nation.’ Most of them don’t speak Guarem, or any language you know. They would gladly give their souls to be where you are, too valuable to be thrown in a cell like rotting meat. Instead they’ll die of starvation, or flux, or not have enough air to breathe during a storm. Look at them. There is no hope in their eyes. They don’t even have the strength to cry, or ask why this has been done to them. They can only whisper the question, the way a madman shouts the same phrase over and over, growing soft and quiet until there is only silence . . .”

I choked off a sob and tore his hand from me. “I don’t need—”

“You’re Quuros. This is your legacy. This is your gift to the world: ship after ship of pain, sailing the seas to sate your people’s lust and cruelty and your thirst to conquer everything. Don’t you dare look away from your birthright. This is what the wizard Grizzst created when he bound the demons. This is what your Emperor Simillion brought to the world when he claimed the Crown and Scepter. This is the way of life Atrin Kandor died to save.”

I sat down on the grating, numb.

“How many slaves have you known? How many have you taken for granted, dismissed as just another unchangeable facet of Quuros life?” Teraeth settled back on his heels, fingers pressed against the bars to balance himself. “You asked who we are, and I will tell you who we are not. We are not people who would ever do this.”

I didn’t answer for a long time.

Finally, I whispered, “That doesn’t make what you do right.”

“No, but for every life I take, I give others their lives back. When I meet Thaena in the Afterlife, my head is held high and my conscience is clean.”

“I can’t do anything to free these people.”

“That’s true if you believe it, but make no mistake—it is only true because you believe it.”

I stared out at the sea. Seagulls had followed us from Kishna-Farriga. They would stay with us for a few miles yet before they decided the scraps weren’t coming fast enough. The salt air filled my nose and the sound of rigging stretched and groaned against my ears. If I listened, I could just make out the muted sound of crying. The ship didn’t smell of anything but salted wood and tar. More awful smells would come later.

I thought long and hard on the irony of being lectured on freedom by the assassin who owned me.

“Juval used a cat-o’-nine-tails on you, didn’t he?” Teraeth asked after a long silence.

“He had questions. He got all cranky on me when I wouldn’t answer them.”

“Do you want me to kill him?”

I looked sideways at the vané. “Don’t you think that might delay our arrival in Zherias, just a little?”

“His first mate looks capable enough.”

The idea made me shudder. If I had nightmares anymore, first mate Delon would haunt them. “Delon’s worse than Juval. Much worse.”

Teraeth stared at me. The line of his jaw turned rigid and he looked away. “I’ll remember that.”

“Besides, Tyentso will take it personally if you start killing off her crew. Even you might have a problem with her.”

“Tyentso?”

“The ship’s sea witch. Remember how you wanted to know if the Captain keeps one? The answer’s yes. Tough as drussian. She’s the one who gaeshed me. I haven’t seen her yet, but she’s around here somewhere. She spends most of her time by herself. She’s like a hermit in a cave, except her cave is on a ship.”

Teraeth smiled in a way that reminded me of tigers scenting the air for prey. “If my mother can handle Relos Var, I don’t think a hedge witch will be much problem.” He flexed his fingers around the bars.

“Show me around the ship,” he said after a pause. “I want to be familiar with the deck plan when things go wrong.”

“Why? You think something’s going to happen?”

“I think Relos Var gave up on you too easily.” He turned to stare out at the water. “That’s not his reputation.”

“So, he’ll make another attempt?” I didn’t need to ask. In my heart, I knew Teraeth was right. Relos Var wasn’t finished with me yet.

He chewed on the end of a finger. “He’d have to know where we are. My mother shields us both against scrying, and you’ve always been hidden from magical attempts to locate you. No one is tracking you down using magic.”

I scowled. “It’s been done.”

“Not easily.”

“They had to summon a demon prince to do so, so yeah. We should be fine. Unless Var’s into that kind of thing.”

“He’s been known to dabble.” Teraeth looked nervous.

That made me nervous. If there was going to be trouble, the last place I wanted to be was trapped on a slave ship, a thousand miles out at sea.

As Taja would have it, that’s exactly where trouble found us.