Page 15 of The Sun God's Prize
I’m shoved into a cage, joining the group with whom I once shared the prow of the ship, noting their stares, and the huddled, weeping man with one eye who refuses to look at anyone.
I’d thought our fates and paths parted, not reconverged, but so be it.It’s not hard to sort the buyers by preference as they approach the cages and talk amongst themselves, their muttering and pointing paired with the clinking of coins changing hands here and there as some are bought immediately.I’m overlooked by these buyers, at least as a purchase, though I do notice a few admiring glances and growl in response at their leering.
The unlucky first choices are dragged out of the cages and taken away, leaving six of us behind.The sailor is among the former, his wailing fading in the distance while the rest of us are prodded out into the dirt and, one by one, pushed up onto a wooden stage where a man in a dull orange robe challenges the gathered buyers to up their bids.
I don’t pay attention to the details, gaze skimming the crowd.I’m more concerned with the guards who stand watch, if concerned is the right word.They’re lax in their security, rumpled and unkempt, many of them bearing weapons without sheaths, poorly cared for.I spot rust and food stains on jerkins, and I’m disgusted by their utter lack of discipline by the time I’m at the steps and next for the stage.
Maybe Iamstrong enough.There’s not a match for me here, even in this state I find myself.
Then I’m pushed from behind, a snarl on my lips, and the decision is made.
I pivot.It’s not my usual fluid motion, but it will do against the startled and unprepared young man who thought he dealt with an ordinary slave.His sword is short and utilitarian, but he’s kept it better than most, hilt fitting well in my hand, length clearing the sheath he carries it in with a ringing sound, the blade shining in the light.My mind cooly admires the freshly honed edge, but my body doesn’t care about such things.He’s already lost his life even as his hand lifts to cup the blood that gushes from his throat, one neat slice all that was required.Not that I notice, leaping up the steps that takes far more energy than it should, ducking low as something hums over my head and embeds itself in the wooden floorboards of the stage.
Archers.I catch sight of someone in the rigging of a ship and realize I’ve underestimated this whole situation, far too much to survive.Well, let it be that ending, then.
I’ll go down like my mother.She’d love that.
But not before the big man in the orange robe dies.I roll to his feet and leap to mine, precious energy burning up as I use him as a shield from the arrows raining toward me, feeling his body twitch as two shafts impact his chest.He’s fat and sweaty and far too big for me to hold up, the stink of him nauseating as his body odor mixes with fresh urine, wetting himself while he dies.I fall with him, controlled but losing my momentum, propping him up with one shoulder to keep the arrows at bay as feet thud on the steps, and two guards rush me.
The first loses his hand at the wrist, even from this awkward position, screaming and sending a fountain of blood streaming into the crowd from his severed limb.The second manages to dodge my foot when I lash out at his knee, but he overreaches when he tries to strike me down with his own sword.I parry it, driving the point of the threat into the chest of the dead man who shields me, sliding my stolen blade up to the guard of his weapon, hopping it, and slicing through his gut.
Entrails cascade over the slats, thudding heavily as they spill and tumble.He’s gagging as he hits his knees, falling face-first into the lap of my shelter.
Two more arrows thud heavily into the slave auctioneer.I feel him start to tip sideways and know, the moment he does, I’m dead.
I’m not ready to die, but I will.Atlas, Zen, I shout out in the nothing that used to be the kinspark.I tried, my loves.
No, not this way.Her voice in my head is harsh and angry, the stranger who’s plagued me since the Landlow Isles no longer distant.Youwilllive.
“ENOUGH!”I look up at the shout, hold my place when my flesh shield finally tumbles, gritting my teeth against the impact I know is coming.
Except, it doesn’t.Vunoshe storms up the steps, coming to my side, grasping at my neck chain, tugging on it.Gently, though, disgust on his face as he looks out over the crowd.
“You don’tdeserveher,” he snarls.“Youearnedyour deaths.”He shocks us all by kicking the dead auctioneer.“Come, my beauty,” he says, leading me away.I rise and go with him, stunned, dazed by this turn of events.“Let us away from this provincial place.”
The grumbling starts and grows louder, but no one challenges us.In fact, we’re on the ship and sailing away again so fast that I’m not sure how we managed it.
Captain Lhanin’s fury rages at Vunoshe only briefly as the triangle sail snaps into full being, and we shoot down the river at that familiar speed again.
“You almost got us allkilled!”The captain’s not just raging at the slavemasterre, though.He’s furious with me, jabbing a finger in my direction, spittle flying from his lips while his dark brown skin turns darker, blood rushing to the surface.“You fuckingidiot!”
“You’rethe idiot,” Vunoshe says, so calm and happy that it cuts through the captain’s rage as cleanly as any well-kept blade.Lhanin splutters, shakes his head, hands clenching in fists at his sides, while the slavemasterregrins back.“Did you not see what I just saw, Lhanin?Did you not see our beautiful one fight?”
The captain pulls himself together, glaring at me.“I saw her try to die,” he mutters.
“She’s still recovering from the indignity you put her through.”Vunoshe turns to me, reaching up and patting my cheek.“She did that,” he gestures vaguely back behind us, “and she’s barely able to swing a sword yet.”He saw that, then.He knows how weak I still am.I must be conscious of his attention to detail.Because it no doubt means he’s also aware I plan to kill him.“Imagine what she’ll be at full strength.”
Lhanin is listening at last, rage fading.“You truly think so?”He wipes one hand over his mouth, grimacing.“You think you can sell her to Romouth?”
“IknowI can,” Vunoshe says, the joy in his voice astounding to me.“For morerananthan anyone in that shithole could even imagine.”He snorts and tosses his head.“Now, if you’ll excuse us.”He wrinkles his nose at me with an adorable smile that makes me ill.“This way, my precious.”Vunoshe leads me aft, settling me on my cushion again, at his feet where his chair sits, before making a big show of looking me over.“Did you hurt yourself killing those terrible people, darling?”
“Not at all,” I say.“It was fun.”
He giggles.“I’m sure it was, after what you’ve been through.”He taps the end of my nose with his fingertip and winks slowly, once.“Let’s make a pact, you and I,” he whispers to me.“I keep you safe, and you make us a lot of money.And when the time comes and you burn this ship to the waterline, you’ll spare me.Agreed?”
I laugh.It’s a soft and helpless sound because I was right.He saw right through me.“You’re an evil man, Master Vunoshe,” I say.
He sits back with a satisfied sigh.“Yes, my lovely, I know,” he says.“And I’m very good at it, too.”
