The Bristling Wood - Katharine Kerr [179]
The sailor nodded. With a jerk of the chain, the mute led Taliaesyn away from the fellow as abruptly as if he were dangerous and made him stand near the gangplank. When Taliaesyn happened to glance over the side, he almost cried out. The blue-green water was alive with spirits, faces and hands and manes of hair that formed only to dissolve again, eyes that stared out at him from sun glints, voices that whispered in the foam, long thin fingers that pointed at him, then vanished. Instinctively he knew that he had to keep silent about them. When he glanced furtively around, it was plain that no one else had seen a thing. He felt smug, almost sly; in this, he was superior to his captors, that the Wildfolk knew and recognized him. He only wished that he could remember why. All at once, the deck was full of gnomes, tall blue fellows, brown fat ones, skinny green beings with frog faces and warty fingers, all clustering round in a comforting sort of way. They patted him, smiled at him, then vanished as suddenly as they’d come. He looked up to see Briddyn walking over, studying what seemed to be a bill of lading. Taliaesyn’s heart thudded, then settled when it was obvious that Briddyn hadn’t seen the Wildfolk—or could he even do so? Taliaesyn thought he might, but he couldn’t quite remember why.
“Well, that’s all in order,” Briddyn said to the mute. “Let’s take the slave to the market. No use feeding him any longer.”
The mute winked and grinned with a sly glance for the customs officer striding away down the pier. This gesture was the first confirmation Taliaesyn had for his hunch that something was wrong with these merchants. He was sure now that the bill of sale was not quite legal. Although he had the brief thought of calling to the officer, Briddyn was watching him again. The silver lizard clip in his beard winked in the strong sun.
“At times you remind me of a child,” Briddyn said in Deverrian. “I can read everything on your face. Do you remember what I did to you when I had you tied to the deck?”
“I don’t, truly, not in any detail.” Yet the fear made him swallow heavily and force every word through dry lips.
“It’s doubtless for the best that you don’t, lad. Let me warn you this. You’re a legal slave now. Do you understand what that means? If you try to escape, you’ll be hunted down, and they’ll catch you. No one in this demon-haunted country will life a finger to help a runaway slave. Once they catch you, they’ll kill you—but slowly, one small piece at a time. What I did to you was naught compared to the way an archon’s men treat rebellious slaves. I heard of one poor wretch that took two months to die. Do you understand?”
“I do.”
Briddyn smiled, the lashless eyes blinking once or twice in remembered pleasure. Taliaesyn winced and looked away. The memory was pushing closer and closer to the surface of his mind, a searing pain like fire, and all caused by the pressure of his tormentor’s fingers. When he shuddered, Briddyn laughed under his breath, such a self-satisfied sound that Taliaesyn felt his fear break like an old rope. No matter what pain it cost him, he would have to fight back, or he would never be a man again. He looked Briddyn squarely in the face.
“I’ll make you a promise. Someday I will escape, and when I do, I’ll come for you. Remember that: someday I’ll kill you for this.”
Briddyn laughed again, easily, openly.
“Shall we flog him for that?” he said to the mute, in Bardekian. “No, it would lower his price. Maybe I’ll take a minute to show him who’s master here, though.”
“No.” It was Gwin, stepping in between them. “You’ve done enough to someone who’s twice the man you are.”
Briddyn went dangerously calm, dangerously still, but Gwin stared him down.
“There’s no time, anyway. Take him and sell him, and be done with it.”
Muttering under his breath, Briddyn gestured at the mute, who jerked the chain so hard that Taliaesyn nearly stumbled, but under Gwin’s watchful eye he never jerked it that way again. As they went down the gangplank and across the