Chunk 5


Well, that sucks. [glances up at estimated completion date] Looks like I need to speed up a bit. [laugh/flail]

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Luka decided to jump right into the fray. "Hello again, Halvic Silver. Hung any more lost farmers today?"

Halvic turned red and sputtered. "That man is a spy!" he shouted. "And you are a traitor for harboring him!"

Luka looked up and searched the heavens for patience, making his movements over-large and easy to see from down in the street. "He is a sheep farmer, Halvic. An idiot from the country who thought he could come to Ruvor and find his brother on the first street corner. They likely don't even have street corners in whatever village he's from."

A scatter of laughter ran through the crowd and Luka grinned back. Laughing was better than growling. Entertained was better than angry. If they could see the humor, they'd likely forget they'd come to kill a man. Show Roscha as a bumbling idiot who knew nothing beyond his own pasture back home and they'd see how harmless he was, something beneath them, too insignificant to be a danger. It wasn't kind to Roscha, perhaps, but Luka wagered the man would rather have people laugh at him and let him go than respect him enough to murder him.

Halvic glared death up at Luka and shouted, "You have weapons! Give them to us to fight the Molani!"

Luka's prayer for patience was purely internal and more sincere this time. "I have no swords long enough to reach the Molani from the tops of the walls. Do you plan to lead an attack outside the walls, on the ground?"

The challenge made Halvic shrink back some, and Luka snorted. He hadn't thought so. Halvic muttered something Luka couldn't hear to the men near him, then shouted up once more.

"You have food! You're a hoarder of food while people are starving! We'll break down your gate and take it!"

That was getting serious and Luka's jaw clenched when an angry growl spread through the crowd. He shifted his stance to ensure they were all looking at him, glared down at Halvic and shouted back, "I have some few scraps left, yes, as do most of us. I also have eighteen mouths in here to eat them. You have only yourself and your wife and your two apprentices." He paused for a moment and let the crowd ponder that. Just the thought of being responsible for feeding eighteen people in these times would make some of them back off, and sure enough, a few went quiet and frowned.

He studied Halvic, who was thin but not wasted, and decided to gamble. "If you and yours are truly starving, Halvic, I will share with you. We will come in and search my house and bring all my food into a pile. Then we will search your house and bring all of your food into the same pile. We will divide all the food twenty-two ways. I will take eighteen parts for my house and you will take four parts for your house. We will all have the same amount, then, for each person. I think that is fair. What do you say?"

Halvic blanched and took a step back. He still looked angry but he looked more frightened than anything else.

Thought so.

Luka sneered down at him, letting his scorn show. "If you don't think that's fair then I have nothing more to say to you, Halvic Silver. I have students to teach." He moved away from the wall, out of sight of the crowd below but he paused to listen.

It didn't sound like Halvic's friends were very happy with him. Luka didn't know whether Halvic had any great store of food, but his refusal to agree to the plan had suggested that Halvic himself believed he had more than Luka did, considering food for each person. If the rest of Halvic's mob decided they wanted to search Halvic's house for themselves and check, Luka wasn't going to stop them.

He felt sorry for a moment, for the man's wife and the two apprentices if not for the smith himself. But they were Halvic's responsibilities. Luka had seventeen students who were his own responsibility -- and Roscha while he stayed -- and he'd learned long ago where the line between "mine" and "not mine" lay.

There was some angry talk and shouting from outside the wall for a few minutes, then it moved away. Still angry and still shouting but away from Luka's school. Good enough.

Luka climbed down the ladder and gave a reassuring smile and nod to the anxious faces looking up at him. "It was nothing," he said easily. "The storm has turned and is moving over to rain on Halvic Silver's house. Back to your lessons, all of you." He shooed them off, the younger ones to their studying and the older ones to sparring around the edges of the courtyard. Tochi waited for him, still holding the two pairs of swords.

"What were we doing?" Luka asked with a grin as he took his weapons.

"I was beating you into the dirt, Master," Tochi answered with a wicked grin of his own.

"You think so, do you?" Luka glanced over Tochi's shoulder to the shaded spot where Roscha still sat and watched. Their eyes met for a moment, but the energy that'd built up in Luka's blood while he spoke to Halvic's mob and wondered whether they'd have to repel an attack buoyed his spirit and kept him from his earlier stumbling distraction.

Luka called, "Ho!" and attacked. Tochi yelped and their swords met in a flurry of clacks and they were on again.



Chapter Two

Prince Arden Solanus Molano strode through the halls of the defeated Ruvori king's palace, uncomfortable in his borrowed feasting clothes but determined to focus on his task for the night. He owed a debt and he expected to spend most of his life paying it, starting that evening.

Not that the burden was likely to be all that arduous. At least, not after the one whom he owed realized that this was the best possible outcome and resigned himself to his new situation. He was a strong man, though, and submission would not come easily or quickly.

Outside, the soldiers and sailors who had helped win this last battle which had conquered the Ruvori were drunk and celebrating and were already engaged in their own final conquest of the defeated people. Common spoils -- money and other portable goods -- were free for whoever was quickest to grab, with the lower officers to ensure that none of the soldiers got too occupied with their greed before the task of conquest was completed. Real property -- land and buildings -- were given as gifts and rewards to the officers, most of them noble, along with a few chosen commoners who'd served with god-inspired courage. Arden approved; it encouraged the others to let them see that dreams of glory and riches sometimes were fulfilled for men of their lowly station.

Slaves, though -- there was a ritual for slaves.

They were already breaking it more than Arden liked, and he wasn't alone. The Patriarch of Baruno, the single most powerful priest in the Empire, had persuaded Arden's Imperial father to wage this war against the Ruvori. He'd promised both the blessings of the moon god who watched over the world by day and by night, and the more tangible support of his wealthy temple, with political support and favors promised for the future. Emperor Solan hadn't been difficult to persuade, either, once he and his close advisors had worked out a plan which had a decent chance of success. Ruvor was a wealthy kingdom, and the city of Parakovac Ruvor's place at the juncture of three major trading routes had made it wealthy beyond the dreams of mortals.

The Patriarch had insisted that all the men be killed, though, and that had caused a lot of grumbling. The tradition was to take slaves, and a good deal of the wealth of conquest came from enslaving the defeated populace. Soldiers were killed, either in battle or after, but that still left most of the people and in a crafting and trading city like Parakovac Ruvor, it also left most of the men. Strong male slaves were valuable and having to kill them all was an outrage.

But the Patriarch had insisted that the god Baruno demanded it and Arden's father had agreed, more or less.

A few exceptions had been made, however, and Arden had ensured that two particular men had been included in those exceptions.

Arden entered the great hall and looked around, examining the faces of the captives. There were about three hundred slaves kneeling around the perimeter wall. All were naked and most were clearly frightened. A few were visibly defiant and Arden was sure that the man he wanted would be one of those.

The women were free, kneeling on their own or huddled together with a friend or two, trying to cover themselves with their hair and hands. The men were bound, on their knees with wrists tied to ankles. They could move -- although the room was full of soldiers and any man who did would likely get a good thump with a spear shaft -- but they could neither sit nor stand and shifting position would only mean flopping over.

There. Arden saw him, head up and shoulders back and glaring fit to singe. One eye was bruised and swollen shut and various other bruises and scabs marred the magnificent body he remembered. The man had obviously fought, but Arden would have expected no less of him.

"Highness," said a man behind him.

Arden turned to see a friend giving him a tight smile and a shallow bow. "Lord Bayon." Baron Tallen Lucenus Bayon was from the Gicard region of the empire. They'd been independent barbarians until as recently as Bayon's great-great-grandfather's lifetime and they were still uneasy about slavery. Bayon's position demanded that he keep at least a few, however, and he would have to have another tonight whether he wished to or no.

"Hold fast," Arden said, his voice lowered for just the two of them. "Don't let them see you're discomforted."

"I know!" Bayon's answering whisper was harsh, but Arden took no offense, knowing how tense the other man was.

"I know," Bayon repeated, a little more softly. "I'm sorry. This is just...." He waved one hand at the naked slaves around the room and scowled, his distaste obvious.

Arden shrugged. "We do what we have to. This is just part of the game and we do our best with it." He'd been looking over the rest of the slaves and finally found another familiar face. He glanced up at his friend and thought for a moment, then said, "You should take a man -- that way you only have to have one."

Bayon looked a question at him and Arden said, "There are only a few, so as to avoid bruising the Holy Patriarch's feelings too deeply. The emperor decided we may choose two women but only one man, to help prevent argument, and to stretch the dish to serve all of the diners." He gave Bayon a wry smile and shrugged. "It's something. Take a man; you'll have only one more soul weighing down your own."

Bayon gave him a sharp look, then sighed and nodded. "I suppose. A man will be harder to manage, though."

"The burdens of victory," Arden said. "I'm sure you'll manage. And if you'll take my advice, I'd recommend that young one over there." He nodded across the room, toward a young man kneeling beside one of the fireplaces. "There, with the two women on one side and the five on the other?"

"Oh?" Bayon looked the boy over. "Why him in particular?"

Arden shrugged once more. "He just gives the impression of having a... a naturally sunny disposition. He hates us all, of course. They all do. But once he settles into his situation, I'll wager he'll be easy enough to live with."

"If you say so." Bayon looked dubious but nodded. "I'll bow to your superior expertise and long experience in the matter."

It was clearly meant to sting a bit, but Arden merely nodded in return. It was true enough.

"And yet you were eyeing the big brute under the sconces," a new voice said, oily and insinuating.

Arden stiffened and glared down his nose at the man who sidled up next to them. Duke Yarro's comradely smile was always ready for those he believed could help him, whether that help might be of the tangible in business or politics, or the more ephemeral social sort of help which came from being seen with the wealthy, powerful or popular. His loyalty shifted with the strongest wind and Arden despised him.

"Yarro," he said. It was an abrupt greeting and just short of insulting.

Yarro's jaw clenched but he swept a deep bow toward Arden, and gave Bayon a nod. "Good evening, your Highness. Lord Bayon." He gave Bayon a patronizing smile and said, "I'm sure his Highness is advising you well, Baron. A younger man, easy to tame with a whip or a rod, would be a good choice. His Highness, though, would be well able to master an agressive stud like that one." He smirked and tilted his head toward Arden's choice, which at the moment he was cursing himself for betraying.

"There's something to be said for a calm, obedient slave," Arden said. He stared hard at the Duke, his displeasure as obvious as he could make it without impolitic rudeness. "I've found that those who require the whip or cane in every case have too crude a touch and lack the true skill of dominating a slave and drawing out his submission."

Yarro flushed and for just an instant he glared right back at Arden. His gaze slid aside, though, and he was immediately smiling once more. "Perhaps you are correct," he said. "I shall take your advice, of course, and try my hand with a 'gentler' slave, and we'll see what comes of it."

He bowed once more and stalked off.

"Rude bastard," Bayon muttered.

"Vindictive bastard," Arden corrected. "I'm afraid I've made a mistake."