Shadows Return - Lynn Flewelling [132]
“No, just a couple of poor bastards.”
“The dark one was a westerbok,” the unscarred Zengat opined solemnly.
“Oh, how do you know that?” one of the Plenimarans challenged.
“All my family great slavers, way back!” the Zengat bragged, poking the other man in the chest. “I can tell ’em all apart. Don’t even need those head rags to tell. But the other one, he was different, a mongrel with yellow hair.”
“Yellow hair, eh? That sells good?” asked Micum.
Notis shrugged. “To some, but the rich customers generally want ’em pure. This one didn’t look like much, compared to your southern stock, but they kept him apart from the others and I seen the captain’s own slaves goin’ in to him.”
“I told you, they was wizards!” a younger Plenimaran piped up. “Put the branks on ’em, didn’t they? And the cuffs.”
The Zengats both made some sort of hand sign, as if to ward off evil.
“How much did they fetch?” Micum asked.
“We unload ’em at the docks and that’s the last we see of ’em.” Notis grinned wider, showing the gap where his tooth had been knocked out. Thero hoped Alec had done that to him.
To Thero’s dismay, the conversation turned to other things as Micum continued to buy round after round. And although he seemed to be drinking as much as the rest of them, when the last of the slavers fell asleep with their heads on the table, Micum sat back and said quietly, “Time we were moving on, Thorwin.”
“What about them?” Thero whispered, gesturing around at the drunken slavers.
Micum shook his head. “Don’t make a fuss. No sense getting noticed.”
With a last glare at Notis and his compatriots, Thero followed Micum out into the dark street.
It was a cloudy night, with a cold breeze in off the sea. Thero shivered, feeling a little ill. He hadn’t had enough of the strong turab to be drunk, really. No, he thought, it’s leaving those men alive that sickens me.
“Where to now?” he asked.
“Well, as much as I hate to disappoint poor Rosie, I think this would be a good time to take our leave. Unless you’d care to spend a night with her?”
“I think I’ll take my chances in the woods.”
They made their way back through the crooked streets, meeting no one but a few drunken sailors and a would-be footpad, who thought better of it when Micum showed his sword.
No one challenged them at the stables when they came for their horses. The tavern windows were dark now.
Thero drew a sigh of relief when they were finally away from the city and in the cover of the trees again. “So this is what you did, you and Seregil, when you were out on the road for Nysander?”
“In part.”
“And the parts that gave you all those scars?”
“This was an easy night, Thero. You were quick-witted back there, by the way. Not bad, for a wet-behind-the-ears tower wizard.”
Pleased, Thero took that for the compliment it was.
CHAPTER 40
Silver Eyes
JUST BEFORE SUNRISE, Seregil and the others found shelter in the ruins of an abandoned stone barn. The house it had served had fallen into the foundation hole and there were no signs of life about the place, just ruined fences and a dry well.
The barn had been struck by lightning and half the roof had burned and fallen in. Rats and bats had taken over, and seemed none too pleased to entertain unexpected guests. A rodent half the size of Ruetha leaped from the shadows and snapped at the little bundle of food Alec had brought.
Ilar let out a startled cry and tried to run, but Seregil dragged him into the shadows by the back wall. “Behave yourself, or this can be your permanent resting place. It’s your choice.”
Ilar went sulky and made a great show of scraping the ground with his foot to clear away the various droppings before he sat down.
Alec kept the rhekaro with him as he and Seregil made a survey of the place. A brightening sky showed through the large holes in the roof.
“Yhakobin is bound to come looking for us,” Alec murmured, peering out through the broken doorway.
“Us, or you and that?” Seregil asked, pointing at the rhekaro. “Ilar told me it was you that he was