The White Road - Lynn Flewelling [117]
As much as he valued having Seregil to himself again, though, Alec missed Sebrahn badly. He'd grown used to the little rhekaro's constant presence, even if Seregil hadn't, and felt bereft without him. More than once he caught himself looking around for him, purely out of habit. Sebrahn crept into his dreams, always being carried out of reach by the Ebrados and their tall rhekaro. But he kept all that to himself, and busied himself helping Seregil prepare for the task ahead.
Seregil and the other "slaves" were leaving most of their gear behind, but he and Alec kept their tool rolls, in spite of the danger of being caught with them. For now they were stored at the bottom of their small traveling packs, but Seregil and Alec both had a medium-sized lock pick sewn into a seam of their tunics. Weapons presented another challenge, and they had a heated discussion about that with Rieser behind closed doors in their cabin.
"Even if you're only presenting yourself as a horse trader, wouldn't you have armed men to protect the string?" Rieser demanded.
"You have to play every role to the last detail," Seregil explained. "Slaves caught carrying weapons will get their master into some serious trouble, not to mention what would happen to them. If we get backed into a corner, we'll either steal some or use whatever comes to hand."
"Or run very fast," added Alec.
"It's usually better to avoid a fight altogether," said Micum.
Rieser raised an eyebrow at that. "You're afraid to fight?"
"No," said Seregil, "but fighting attracts attention, and that's something we want to avoid at all costs. Still, we won't go in without any protection. Micum has his sword, and no one will question him carrying Alec's bow. If he can't get it to Alec in time, Micum's a very good archer. Does that satisfy you? Or are you afraid?"
"I fear nothing, but dying won't accomplish our purpose."
"None of us plans to die. Just follow our lead when the time comes. This is what we're good at."
"I caught you easily enough," Rieser reminded them.
"And we escaped just as easily."
"The first time."
"That's enough!" said Micum. "It's settled: no swords or knives. We each play our role. That should be protection enough."
For clothing, the ship's sailmaker was able to alter some of their clothing and some loose trousers traded from the crew into outfits befitting a well-to-do northlander's slaves. They would wear shirts under the usual sleeveless tunic, but with sleeves loose enough to readily display the slave brands. Seregil sewed plain veils for each of them out of some of the ribbon and fine lady's handkerchiefs Rhal had plundered from a Plenimaran ship.
When it was all fixed, Alec modeled it for them.
Seregil frowned. "It's not perfect."
"It's good enough for a foreigner's slaves," said Micum. "The brands and collars should be enough to convince anyone."
That night Seregil and Alec sat down to map out all that they recalled of the alchemist's villa. Alec had seen only a bit of the cellar under the house where his cell had been, and the way from there to the workshop with its two gardens. Seregil had been kept in an upper room overlooking the inner garden, and then in the same cell that Alec had been in, but he had been unconscious for the transitions. The night he'd escaped with the Khatme nurse, it had been dark and she'd been in the lead, but he had some sense of the direction she'd taken, leading him down through the dining room into the central courtyard. The workshop garden lay just beyond. He'd also spent a night in an attic overlooking that same garden.
Alec knew the workshop best, and sketched it, marking the forge and athanor, tables and other structures, including a small ornate tent at the far end. "And here's where the tunnel begins, under the anvil nearest the door," Alec said, showing Rieser.
"And you can't just go in that way?"
"I considered that, but I don't