She was slightly built, with coppery skin and thick black hair with a curious blue tint coiled high on her head. A gauzy mantle of gossamer silk was draped over her shoulders, open at the front to reveal a low-cut dress of emerald silk, closely tailored to outline full breasts and slim hips, all accentuated further with gem studded chains of gold and silver. She looked as if she might be the same age as Livak but it was hard to tell, given the bright paints that decorated her pointed face, which was alight with mischief.
A burly man of about the same age as my father stood next to her, studying me thoughtfully down a hooked nose, eyes keen under thick black brows. He wore a flowing silk tunic of vivid green, belted with a black sash over loose black trousers tied at the ankle. His skin was considerably darker than the woman’s and his long, graying hair and beard were slicked back with aromatic oil; an Emperor’s ransom in jewels glittered in his earrings and around fingers and wrists. A thin-faced man in fine chainmail waited behind the pair, his hands tucked into a jewelled belt bearing two swords and a multitude of daggers. He looked at me with an expression of profound boredom.
Beyond realizing there was absolutely no point in anymore resistance, I couldn’t summon a rational thought. I’d been bought by an Aldabreshi Warlord. Viltred’s piss-poor magic hadn’t shown any of us that, had it?
The man in the mail-shirt gestured toward me and I fell in beside him numbly as the three Aldabreshi walked happily away from the slave sales, the woman hanging on the Warlord’s arm, evidently thanking him, laughing with a delight that started to make me seriously worried. My only consolation was that all the passers-by were so busy staring at the wealth dripping off the exotic couple that they had no time to spare for the mundane sight of a slave in chains stumbling along behind as we walked briskly through the city.
Pausing at a footbridge, I tried to look around for Mellitha or Shiv but that earned me a growl from the man with the swords. I glared back at him but, when he put a hand to a dagger hilt, I dropped my eyes. If he wanted to be cock of the dunghill, I wasn’t about to challenge him, not just yet, anyway, not until I had a blade in my hand. Once I had a sword, we could find out if the reputation of Aldabreshi swordsmen was all it claimed.
We turned between two lofty warehouses and I found myself on a dock facing the open gulf. This was a far cry from the grimy wharves that took in the trade from Caladhria and Lescar; here the quays were swept clean by urchins standing ready with their brooms, pale stone bright in the sunlight. Tall buildings with private apartments above the storerooms looked down on a bustle of activity, laden hand-carts and porters carrying bolts of silk, bales of linen cloth, barrels of wines, small iron-bound caskets closely guarded and larger chests treated with lesser concern.
Massive breakwaters reached far out into the deep waters of the Gulf here, tides or storms no more than a passing inconvenience as the sweeping arms of the great harbor offered sanctuary from the open seas. Immense galleys bobbed gently, tethered to the jetties, their vast holds ready to receive every luxury that Relshaz could offer in return for Aldabreshi gem-stones. Men in flowing silks and stern expressions stood in intense conversation, jewels at waist and wrist catching fire in the sunlight, women with painted faces and seductive dresses chatted and laughed, tall men in shining mail expressionless beside them, each with enough weapons to outfit half a troop of mercenaries. Voices chattered harshly all around me and I realized with a sudden shock that I couldn’t understand a word anyone was saying.
I found myself buffeted and shoved but the throng opened itself instantly before my new owner and his lady, anxious faces bowing low in reverence, hands spread wide. The Warlord passed by, aloof, but the woman turned this way and that with a brilliant smile and a negligent scatter of silver from a pouch at her waist. We reached a high-sided ship, one of the few with three banks of oars and a bright green pennant at the masthead bearing an abstract, angular design in broad black strokes. The Warlord paused, spoke rapidly to the swordsman and then escorted the woman up one of the two gangplanks.
I raised my eyebrows at my companion in mute question. He shrugged, slight confusion in his copper-colored eyes and walked down the dockside to the other gangplank. I hesitated for half a breath but a quick glance around made it clear I’d have twenty Aldabreshi after me like dogs on a rat if I tried to run. I sighed and followed obediently, my expression calm but my mind racing around in fruitless circles, like a mouse trapped in a bucket by a squeamish maid. Dastennin help me, how was I going to get out of this?
Once on the deck of the ship, the man with all the blades simply pointed to a space between two bales and turned his back on me. I watched him enter a door at the rear of the vessel and, hardly able to believe that I was left unguarded, I took a couple of rapid steps toward the gangplank. A handful of dark faces immediately turned toward me, sailors and porters all halting in their tasks to stare at me with unfriendly eyes. I returned to my assigned spot and tried to look harmless; just a piece of self-loading cargo, that was me.
A ripple ran through the organized bustle on the quayside and I looked desperately to find its origin, hoping for a sight of Shiv’s dark head or Mellitha’s blue cloak. Instead I saw the crowd parting for a troop of black-liveried men whose yellow heads stood out like beacons among the dark Aldabreshi. My breath came hard and fast as I stood, helpless, watching as they drew closer and closer, a gleam of gold at the neck of the leading man the only touch of color in his garb. Relief swept over me like a breaking fever when they passed the galley. I watched, heart pounding, as they halted at a distant berth; the leader accosted by a slim Aldabreshi woman with russet hair and eloquent, gesturing hands.
A sudden stillness all around me turned my head. I looked warily to see if I had done something to provoke it. I found I was completely ignored as all eyes were fixed on the Warlord, now standing in the prow of the vessel, in conversation with the woman. He took a small withy cage from her and opened it to release a white sea bird, its wings edged with blue and black. Everyone but me seemed to be holding their breath as the bird rose skywards, circled the mast for a moment, then winged its way south on urgent wings.
The stillness was broken by unmistakable cries of pleasure and relief from the Aldabreshi. The deck lurched beneath my feet and I watched in horror as scurrying sailors cast off the chains that held the galley to the dock. With a sudden shout the oars crashed into the dimpled water and I heard the muffled beat of the pace drum beneath my feet. Unregarded now, I moved to the rail, gripping it with desperate hands, finally spotting Shiv’s lanky figure in animated debate with some Aldabreshi in a vivid emerald tunic. I looked hastily for the Elietimm and saw he was moving down the dockside, his men obediently falling into step behind him, heading toward Shiv, who was oblivious, still arguing with the warlord’s man.
“Shiv!” I bellowed frantically but my lone voice was no match for the slap and flurry of the oars, the creak of the timbers and the shouts of the sailors as the massive galley made its careful way out of the busy harbor. The great vessel wheeled around and another ship glided past, hiding the dock from me.
I stood and swore in impotent fury, only registering a peremptory tap on my shoulder when it was repeated. I turned, an oath dying on my lips, to see the man with the swords looking at me with expressionless eyes. He unlocked my manacles and tossed them disdainfully into the sea before turning, beckoning me to follow.