Ashling

  "Sallah comes," Jaygar sent politely.

  I turned to see Brydda ride into the yard on the white mare, Sallah. The golden afternoon sunlight gave her a dazzling regality. I was surprised Brydda did not try to hide her beauty as I did Gahltha's. But perhaps his size was enough to dissuade thieves.

  "Greeting and hail, ElspethInnle," Sallah sent formally.

  "Greetings," I returned, embarrassed at the thought that the white horse might have communicated to Brydda her belief that I was the incarnation of a savior figure in beastlegend.

  "Beastsecrets are not for the funaga," Sallah sent with clear reproof.

  "Am I not funaga?"

  "You are Innle," Sallah sent.

  "Are you ready?" Brydda asked.

  I nodded and Gahltha came forward so that I could mount him. Wordlessly we rode out into the yard where Kella waited by the gate to say goodbye.

  "Be careful," Jaygar sent after us.

  "Always," Gahltha returned.

  It was chilly already and I was glad of my cloak. Gladder still that the rain had stopped. With luck it would remain clear until we were safely back at the repair shed. I offered to knit a coercive cloak, but Brydda did not think it necessary. On the way to the river piers, he told me that the soldierguards were now at Kinraide where I had been supposedly sighted.

  "I had some of my contacts there report a sighting of you. I wanted the soldierguards out of Rangorn when I thought the rebel meeting would be held there, and they were showing no signs of going," he said.

  Mention of the soldierguards reminded me of something else that was nagging at me. "I am still worried about that soldierguard captain. Don't you think it odd that Daffyd knew nothing of him, when it was he who opened the slave wagon and shone in the lantern? Maybe he is Salamander."

  "It is possible, but soldierguards are mercenaries," Brydda said. "They work for whosoever can afford them and they have a history of being notoriously easy to bribe. The slave trade could not have been developed in the way it has, even by Salamander, without officials being paid to turn a blind eye. It is quite likely that this soldierguard captain was hired to supply and administer the Sadorian drugs and generally to smooth the way for Salamander's activities, and no more. It is odd that he stopped the wagon in the street to give the drug, but maybe he does not want to be seen either."

  "That still doesn't explain the way he looked at Dragon."

  "No," Brydda said in a carefully neutral voice. "But, Elspeth, a look is easy to misinterpret. Probably what seemed a knowing look was only fascination or even wonder. There are not many who are as beautiful as Dragon."

  I said nothing, but I was not persuaded that I had been mistaken. Even now I could call up that hawkish face and its look of stunned recognition. Perhaps the slave-master would have an answer for me.

  "We are almost there," Brydda said presently. "We had better dismount. I have a few rebels in a house close by. They have been watching the place all day. We can leave the horses there and go the rest of the way on foot."

  I gave him a quick look, disturbed by the thought that he had already set his people in place.

  "Just in case of trouble," he promised, sensing my disquiet. "I wanted to have some idea of the movement of traffic about these river piers. I had no particular knowledge of them."

  His reasoning was sound since he would have little enough time for investigating the area before the morrow.

  The house turned out to be yet another of the city's burnt-out hovels. I was glad to find that only three rebels awaited us in the yard behind it. Reuvan was one of them. Beside him was a tall lanky fellow I had not seen before with woolly brown hair and a beard to match. The third was the blond woman with the plague-scarred face whom I had met at The Good Egg with Domick. I searched my memory for her name—Oria. I was gratified to realize I had been right in thinking she had some affinity with the rebels. Fortunately, she was engrossed in the examination of a map and had not seen me enter. For Domick's sake, I swiftly erased my face from her memory. Better if no one knew his Councilcourt identity. When Brydda introduced us she gave me a searching look, but there was no recognition in it.

  "What have you found out?" Brydda asked her briskly.

  She flicked her fingers at the bearded man who had a steady, seasoned look about him, and drew us into a room whose windows had been blackened. He lit a small lantern and unrolled the piece of paper Oria had been studying.

  "Here is the sea," he rasped, stabbing a brown-stained finger at the paper. "There are four pier warehouses which are leased privately from the Herder Faction by traders. They are spread apart a little so that carts can draw up between them. As you see, there are the same number of piers. Each warehouse has its own and here, opposite, mere are sheds for storage—one for each warehouse. They are quite often leased out separately. A rough road runs between them."

  "The Faction owns the pier sheds?"

  Oria nodded. "They bought them recently from the Council, and the wharfs. They use the river to travel straight from their cloister, on the edge of the Suggredoon, to Morganna and Aborium and then to Herder Isle. The Council controls all of the main sea wharfs and warehouses, as well as the ferry that checks the river boats, but they leave the river to the Herders now. Of course, other boats use the wharfs to ship wares in or out and pay the Herders for it. Small vessels mostly. The Herder ships are the largest that use the wharfs."

  I nodded, but felt chilled at the thought of being on property controlled by the fanatical Herders.

  "The pier manifest says there are only two ships due in tomorrow. One of them must be the slave ship," the bearded rebel put in. "Unless it comes in unscheduled."

  "Is the pier empty now? Can we get any closer?" Brydda asked.

  Reuvan shook his head. "A Faction boat docked about an hour back and there are at least a dozen burlymen and seamen roving about. We'll have to wait until they're done but it should not be too long—they are loading straight away."

  Oria touched Brydda's arm and there was a clear look of devotion in her eyes, though her voice was brisk and businesslike. "The other thing is that troops of soldier-guards have spent the day running some sort of training exercise on the banks of the river right by the warehouse that juts out over the water. Their camp is not far from here. Once it is dark, they will certainly be leaving too."

  "I wonder if the soldierguards are making Ayle nervous," I murmured.

  "No doubt he is thanking his lucky stars that the exercise was run today rather than tomorrow," Brydda said with sharp humor. "Imagine them trying to shift a hundred slaves under the noses of dozens of soldierguards."

  "A hundred," Oria murmured. "It is hard to believe how brazen this is."

  "Since we have to wait anyway, I might try to reach Daffyd," I said, sitting on an upturned box to make myself comfortable.

  "I doubt he will be out in the open with so much going on," Brydda said. He looked at Reuvan. "Do you have any food? I have not eaten all day and ..."

  His voice faded as I closed my eyes and shaped an attuned probe to Daffyd's mind signature. The mental static was very strong this close to the water, which meant I had to concentrate fiercely to keep my mind-probe intact. Given Brydda's warning, I did not expect it to locate the armsman so I was shocked when the probe not only reached its target, but Daffyd reacted as if I had thrust a brand into his mind.

  The intensity of his response was blistering.

  "I have prayed and prayed you would come," he sent frantically. "Elspeth, it was a ruse! They're loading the slaves aboard a ship right now! They're going to leave as soon as it's done!"

  XXX

  "We dare not go any closer," Reuvan whispered from just in front of me. "The soldierguards are still there marching back and forward like a lot of fools. I can't think what they are doing but they will have to go when it gets dark. We should wait until then to go nearer!"

  "This is madness," Brydda said softly. "Burlymen and soldierguards all milling about while the slavers ope
nly load an illicit cargo of drugged slaves."

  "Daffyd didn't sound as if he was making a mistake," I said softly. "He sounded panic-stricken and deadly serious."

  "Keep your voices down," Oria warned. "Sound carries far and easily by the water."

  "We have to get closer," Brydda said in a frustrated voice. "Ask Daffyd if he can ..."

  I shook my head. "I can't reach him. I just tried. He must have gone back into the warehouse and the static from the tainted water is like a stone wall."

  "Lud damn it!" the rebel chief hissed.

  "I don't understand," said the brown-bearded rebel. "The only ship on the manifest for tonight is The Color Lady and, like I said, that is a Herder ship."

  "That is the least strange thing about this whole queer affair. Herder ships are for hire at the right price, like any other," Brydda said. He looked at me. "Can you hide us somehow? We need to get closer."

  I glanced instinctively at Oria and the other rebel. Their faces showed slight curiosity but nothing more and I wondered how much Brydda had told them of me.

  "I can cloak two of us," I said.

  "Wait here," Brydda instructed the others.

  "Just a minute," I said quickly. "I can feel Daffyd again."

  I closed my eyes and the general probe I had left in case the farseeker emerged sharpened into an attuned probe. As soon as this reached Daffyd, he was able to communicate with me again. Like Matthew, his farseeking power was too weak to combat the static from the Suggredoon.

  "You'd better do something now if you are going to, Elspeth," he sent urgently. "Matthew is in the last lot and they are going to load them shortly. Once he is on the ship, you will have no hope of helping him unless you brought an army."

  "What about Salamander?" I sent. "Have you managed to farseek him?"

  "No!" Daffyd's mental voice was savage with disappointment and rage. "He has not come ashore and I cannot reach him over the damn water!"

  "Ask him about the soldierguards and the Herders," Brydda hissed into my ear.

  I shook my head angrily for he had distracted me and it was difficult enough to focus in the static.

  "Daffyd?" I sent. "Why are they boarding them on a Herder ship?"

  There was no answer.

  "He's gone, but he said they're going to load Matthew any minute."

  "What about Salamander?"

  "He hasn't left the ship."

  Brydda scowled. "The man has the instincts of a fangcat. It is almost as if he knew we were waiting for him." He took a deep, steadying breath. "Well, let's get nearer."

  He led the way and I concentrated on cloaking us coercively as we emerged from behind the pile of crates and made our way through a narrow lane toward the water. I could smell the faintly brackish scent of the Suggredoon and hear its rush before I saw it. The static from the tainting was incredibly strong and I wondered what had caused it Certainly the upper reaches of the river were clean.

  The row of sheds came into vision and, through the gaps between them, I could see they were separated from the river by a stone walkway. Right on the bank were the warehouses, facing away from the river. The warehouse jutting out over the water was furthest away from us and set back a little from the rest. People were moving about in front of it and, even from that distance, I could see the huge front door stood ajar.

  Tied up alongside it was a ship, its three masts and a small part of its bow visible behind the bulk of the warehouse. From the movement of people about it, the gangplank lay on the warehouse side of the ship.

  Brydda pressed my arm and pointed past the ship to an open field, where fifty or so soldierguards in full regalia were marching in formation. They were paying no mind whatsoever to the slave ship being loaded.

  The whole scene was bathed in the ever-deepening pinkish gold light of the pre-dusk. In less than an hour, the sun would set.

  "It can be no coincidence that the soldierguards are here," Brydda whispered.

  "Do you think they were hired by the slavers?"

  "Not this many," Brydda said. "Too much risk of someone talking." He gave me a searing look. "Of course, a soldierguard captain might have some hidden reason for ordering his troops to perform their exercises here."

  I bit my lip and wondered again about the soldierguard captain.

  "Can you get us any closer?" the rebel prompted.

  I shook my head decisively. "There are burlymen loading a wagon from that shed just up there. You can't see them from here, but they are there. I felt them with my probe. Too many to coerce into blindness."

  Brydda and I stared at one another, and with dawning horror I saw resignation shape itself in his eyes.

  "We have to help Matthew," I cried.

  "Shh," he said sternly. "I know how you feel but it is impossible to attack openly. If he is to be rescued, it can only be by stealth and wit. Even with your powers, there are only five of us, six counting Daffyd and Matthew makes seven—if he is in any state to fight. We are vastly outnumbered. There must be ten or more seamen manning that ship, in addition to the slavers' hirelings and the burlymen."

  "There are nine—if you count the equines as two more," Gahltha sent sternly, and I turned to see that the black horse had followed us.

  "I/Gahltha hid myself," he sent imperturbably. "Sallah watches over the other funaga."

  "Hell!" Brydda started in fright when he noticed the horse. "What in the name of... ?"

  I shook my head impatiently, knowing two horses would not tilt the balance in our favor in an open battle. I spotted Daffyd coming from the warehouse with a small group of shuffling slaves. He led them along the pier and then vanished between the building and the ship.

  "Elspeth!" Daffyd sent as soon as he felt my probe. "I'm taking this group to the ship and Matthew is in the next lot. It doesn't matter if you cause a fuss because Salamander is out of my reach anyway. Help Matthew.... "

  His voice faded and the contact dissolved. I guessed he had stepped onto the gangplank and out over the water. So long as they were on the ship over tainted water Daffyd was mindbound, as I or any farseeker would have been in his place.

  I sent a swift command to Gahltha and pulled myself up on his back. At once he started forward, evading Brydda's grasp.

  "Elspeth!" the rebel hissed, not daring to come out in the open after us.

  "Stay still and no one will see you," I said over my shoulder, and urged Gahltha forward.

  "Elspeth, there is nothing you can do!" the rebel hissed. "For Lud's sake, come back."

  Gahltha's hoofs clattered on the pier boards, drowning out his frantic whisperings.

  "Go along the pier/ride slowly," I sent to the equine.

  "Matthew!" I sent. "Matthew!"

  But, of course, there was no answer.

  Closer to the warehouse, I could see The Color Lady properly. It was an elegant vessel with slender lines and its name stamped in red on the bow. Underneath was the distinctive Herder insignia. Given what Brydda had said, it had probably been hired for the occasion to encourage people to mind their business. Though why I could not see, since they were brazenly loading slaves in public with soldierguards paying no mind to them at all!

  The vessel rested low in the water, underlining Daffyd's warning that most of the slaves had already been boarded. No doubt the armsman had contrived as best he could to put Matthew's boarding off to the last moment. If this were imminent, it meant the ship's departure also loomed, as well it must if they meant to catch the out tide, cross the sandbars at the river mouth, and reach open sea by nightfall.

  I came level with the burlymen I had sensed. They had been engaged to load bales of wool onto a wagon from a shed opposite the first of the six warehouses backing onto the river. But they had ceased their labors to watch the loading of the slaves. I felt dizzy with confusion. They were watching as if it were nothing out of the ordinary. This was a lot more than corrupt officials turning a blind eye!

  "Good riddance, I say," said one of the two burlys at the fore
front.

  His thickset companion nodded and I could not stop myself staring at them. Since when had slavery gained such general approval?

  "Reckon the Herders should have rounded 'em up a long time ago. Waste of space they are," the first man reiterated.

  His silent companion nodded again.

  "Can't see them succeedin' in healin' this lot, though, no matter that they say Lud'll help 'em. Even if they do have skilled healers on Herder Isle. Once a defective always a defective, I say."

  I struggled to keep my face expressionless, but suddenly I understood what was going on. No one knew the slaves were slaves! Those watching thought that Herders were taking a load of defectives to their Isle for treatment. That was why the soldierguards were doing nothing, and why the whole thing could be done in broad daylight without fear. And the new Sadorian drugs meant none of the slaves behaved as if they were drugged.

  My heartbeat quickened as the two burlymen turned to stare at me.

  "Gypsy slut. Ought to round them up too," said one.

  This time the other was prevailed upon to grunt his assent. I felt sick. I had been so concerned about Matthew that I had forgotten to maintain my coercive enhancement of my boyish apparel. At any minute I would be sure to be recognized by the soldierguards. I inserted a sharp coercive command to the burlymen to work and they reacted as if galvanized. This was dangerous because later they would remember me. But in the face of everything else, this seemed a minor problem.

  Then I coerced an image of myself as a sun-browned seaman's lad. It took a steady surge of power to hold the image, and this, along with trying to combat the sea static, was proving a frightening drain on my mental energies. Soon I would have no reserve of power.

  Yet what else could I do?

  I sent to Gahltha to slow down as we came level with the warehouse from which the slaves were being led. At the same moment a man brought a small knot of people outside and I slowed to let them go before me, glad of a reason to delay.

  "Elspeth!" Matthew sent.