Shadows Return - Lynn Flewelling [126]
“That’s the first thing a slave taker looks for. When a slave is freed, that mark is branded over with another, larger one, to prove he’s free.”
“What sort of mark?” asked Alec.
“The crest of his master.”
Seregil ran a hand back through his ragged hair. “No easy solution there, then, unless we can find one to steal. Stay here, both of you.”
Leaving Alec to keep Ilar under control, Seregil made his way back the way they’d come. After some searching, he found the tools he needed in a lean-to next to the cottage. If there were dogs here, they certainly weren’t worth much as guards.
He returned to find the rhekaro curled up beside Alec with its head in his lap. It wasn’t sleeping, though. Its eyes followed Seregil as he approached, shining like a cat’s.
“These will have to do,” he said, holding up the small mallet and a cold chisel. He waved the mallet at Ilar. “You first.” If he was going to make any serious mistakes, it wasn’t going to be on Alec’s neck.
Seregil found a suitably large rock and had Ilar lay his head on it, bracing the loose part of the collar against the crude anvil.
“Hold still,” he warned as he set the chisel point against the riveted seam in the metal.
The hammerblows were dangerously loud, but he struck well and severed the joint in three tries without doing any significant harm to Ilar. It took him and Alec together to wrench it open enough for Ilar to slip out of it. There was a ring of pale, shiny flesh around his neck where the golden collar had rubbed for so long, and a wider band of reddened skin from the new one.
Seregil had a fleeting urge to smooth his fingers over it.
Ilar raised a hand to his throat. “It feels so strange, not having it there. Thank you.”
“It had to be done,” Seregil replied gruffly. “You next, Alec.”
When that was done, he handed Alec the tools and held his breath as Alec struck off the hated metal band. When it was off he rubbed gratefully at his own neck. “That’s better!”
Ilar was still doing the same, but now he looked more frightened than grateful.
“What’s the matter? Do you miss it already?”
Ilar was trembling. “If we’re caught without these…”
“If we’re caught, that will be the least of our worries.”
He left Alec to bury the broken collars and took the tools back where he’d found them, not wanting to leave the slightest clue behind. As he made his way back to the orchard, he found himself picturing Ilar’s grateful smile again.
What is wrong with me?
They set off again, striking east, away from Riga.
“What are you doing?” Ilar demanded, balking almost immediately. “Mycena is north, and the coast that way! You’re just leading us deeper into Plenimar.”
“Then stay here,” Seregil muttered. “Of course, I’d have to kill you.”
As he’d expected, Ilar fell into step behind them, walking in sullen silence.
Alec caught Seregil’s eye and made the hand sign for “Aurënen.” Seregil nodded. If they could make it to the Strait and steal a boat, they could cross to Virésse, or better yet, coast along to Gedre, where they were assured of a warmer welcome.
He shot the rhekaro a dark look. And what will they make of you?
Alec, the better guide outside of a city, took the lead. The clouds were clearing and he kept the stars of the Great Hunter over his left shoulder to keep them going east. He wasn’t troubled by Sebrahn’s slight weight, or the odd coolness his little body gave off instead of heat. It was the simmering tension brewing between all of them that worried him.
The night air was cold enough that they could see their breath in front of them. It was poor country for shelter or hiding. Trees were sparse, and the few villages they passed were mean little places.
Seregil was grim, and Khenir wisely kept his mouth shut, though he was obviously in pain. Alec could feel the tension crackling between the two of them. And no wonder, if he’d understood Ahmol and Yhakobin correctly. He tried to keep his mind on the way in front of them, but