Page 10 of The Sun God's Prize
“Hush,” a man says.
“But we’restarving,” someone else mutters.“And she’s been nothing but trouble.”
Their grumbling seems a good sign, despite their unhappiness with me.Perhaps they will finally talk to me, tell me what I need to know to get out of here.
No, I will not deceive myself with such lies.They would have escaped themselves if that option were viable.More likely, there is no escape, or they are conditioned to remain.They’ll turn me in to the sailors above for more food if I show any rebellion.
Oh, rebellion doesn’t begin to describe what I have planned.
The hatch bangs open again before I can think better of it and prompt my fellow captives for answers.But our usual visitor doesn’t return.Two large men, both bearing swords at their hips, crouch as they come toward me.One grunts as he bends and unlocks my chain from the large, heavy ring bolted to the flooring, the other grasping my bicep in one massive hand and jerking me to my feet.
Neither speaks as they drag me toward the hatch, my right heel burning from the rough twisting of the shackle still bound around me, the chain clanking along behind me.
I don’t fight.Maybe I should, but I need to save my strength if I’m going to gain my freedom once I’m out on the deck.Yes, my hand itches to grab one of their swords, both, actually.And yet, restraint will serve me better than impulsiveness.
I’m suddenly surfacing from below, emerging into the breeze above deck, and I forget everything else.The first inhale is so sweet, I almost break down from the freshness of it.The second gives me strength, the third is now common again, but I will not take it for granted.
I was right about the ship, its length barely the size of my mother’s small throne room at the winter keep in Isthan.I look back over my shoulder, note that we’re being held in the bow, far forward, right at the front of the vessel, and when I turn back, my gaze catches the shore passing by.
So, we’re not on the open ocean.No, not at all.There’s land on my left, too.Which means a river.We must be heading south, though there’s little to be seen but dark shapes like trees on the banks as our ship seems to fly over the water, a single, triangular sail that thrumming sound and vibrating feel I’ve grown accustomed to.A sound and sensation I first heard and felt on theSea Blade.
I can’t think of Isolatta’s amazing black and red vessel right now.Doing so will weaken me too much.With my mind and heart returned to me, memories of that voyage to the Landlow Isles and Neem with Atlas and Zenthris are far too painful.
Besides, I have other things to consider, like the small, whip-thin man who stands on the raised deck at the back of the ship, next to the long pole he guides with one hand.It must be the equivalent of the wheel on theBlade, I suppose, some manner of steering I don’t understand.
My guides shove me up the steps, and I’m pushed to my knees at this new man’s feet.
“I’m told you can speak Sunnish,” he says without greeting.His voice is low, but carries despite the wind.He doesn’t look at me, while I’m taking him in, the expensive leather belt that hugs him to his ribs, thick and heavy with a sparkling silver buckle holding it in place, a chain of many gold earrings dangling from one of his ears, filling the existing curve of space with loops of shining metal to the tip.When he turns his head, his eyebrow is also pierced, I see, with three more thick gold hoops, another puncturing the middle of his lower lip.
“There’s been a mistake,” I say.I know my error the moment I say it, because he doesn’t care who I am or that I’m not meant to be here.Any chance I had of reaching him is gone when he laughs.
“Has there?”He softly taps the pole next to him, and the ship responds, I feel it beneath me, like a lover he knows how to please with barely a touch.
“You’re going to try to sell me,” I say.“And I’m going to kill you for it.”
That catches his attention.His head turns at last, dark eyes fixing on me.He’s waxed his small, thin mustache, the black hair shining in the light of the lantern that swings from a ring to his right, one of the few lights up here on deck, no doubt to keep from drawing attention.But whose?It’s a rogue’s choice, though, make no mistake, the same choice I’d make, given the chance.
“You threaten my life?”He’s interested, rather than angry.
“I’m no one’s slave,” I say, already bored with this conversation that will gain me nothing.“Tell me who I need to kill to be free, besides you, and they’re dead.”
He laughs again, a short, barking noise that’s just noise to me.I don’t care who he thinks he is, what he thinks he controls.He has no idea what I’m capable of.
Well, neither do I, if I’m being fair in the moment.For all I know, I’ll fall over at the least breath of wind.But I don’t think so.I think I’m much more likely to take his head with the long, curved sword that hangs just past my right hand at the waist of the careless sailor who thinks he has me under control.
Under normal circumstances, I’d do more than that.But I think his death, yes.I could manage it.And then die myself, of course.
Does he see his ending in my gaze?I’m not threatening him openly, just stating fact.Perhaps that is what gets to him, ultimately.When he speaks again, his tone is softer than I expected.
“Northerners don’t take the time to learn our language,” he says.“You’re one of us?”
“My grandfather,” I say, not bothering to offer more.Partly because I don’t understand what’s going on, either, why I can speak or understand.Sunnish?What the Southerners call themselves, I suppose.
He watches me in silence, but I’m patient, too, the pair of us staring one another down until he shifts position, breaking the moment.It’s a small victory.
“I don’t care who you are,” he says, now gruff and angry as he looks away, going back to his work.“All I care about is how much you’ll earn me when I sell you.”He snaps his free fingers.“Take her below.”
“At least tell me who sent you to kidnap me,” I snarl in return.
