Changing the World: All-New Tales of Valdemar

thankful they didn’t like dogs here. Dogs would have heard and smelled them long before.

The seconds were hours long as Jesrin slipped down the slender rope. Her layered dress was not practical and would be abraded to shreds before she reached the ground.

Then she slipped and fell. Erki and Riga both rushed forward and caught her, and she convulsed in agony at their hands on her beaten back. The fall had scraped her knuckles and forehead, and she leaned over in the dust and vomited, twitched, lay still for a moment, then twitched again as she woke up. Through it all, she barely uttered a sound.

Erki snatched the rope down as Riga gingerly helped her to her feet. With the shutters ajar and the rope recovered, there was no obvious sign of departure. But it was early, and Father would awaken soon himself. They had to move.

The girl meekly donned the offered hood and tied the cloak around her neck, wincing as even that weight touched her abused flesh. She’d pass as Kossaki from a distance, but her underdress was clearly servant class, and her poise was as submissive as Riga’s was challenging. Still, that shouldn’t matter.

“This way,” Riga said, and led the way. A moment later, Erki grabbed her shoulder and stepped in front.

Oh. Right. Male must lead. She flushed in anger, embarrassment, and frustration. Still, that’s why she’d asked him along, and he was doing his part well, the stout boy.

They were five streets away when a watchman came around the corner, right into their faces.

“Who are you?” he asked. Riga could puzzle out the words, but she couldn’t speak. Had Erki paid attention to their lessons?

And then she knew why she loved her brother, annoying as he could be. He stepped forward, as he did for any problem, and showed no reluctance.

“Harad of the Kossaki,” he lied, “and my sisters. I return to my uncle’s ship.”

“It is very late.” The man spoke simply for them, but his tone made it clear he wanted an explanation.

“My sister took sick and had to stay with friends. We are lucky your gods saw fit to make her healthy in time.”

It was very rude to look at a woman’s face here, but this man was an official. He looked as if he was considering doing so, and he stared at their feet.

She’s wearing sandals, not boots, Riga realized. Explain them as locally supplied? But she couldn’t talk, and would Erki grasp it?

Under her cloak, she gripped the hilt of her seachs. In about five heartbeats, he was going to find out why she was called “Sworddancer,” even if all she had was a knife.

He looked at Erki again, said, “A blessing on you,” and turned away.

Riga exhaled. Jesrin whimpered. Erki didn’t twitch at all, and he led the way forward.

It was definitely near dawn, and gray, as they reached the beach.

Jesrin spoke at last. “We go on your ship?”

“Yes, quickly,” Riga said, gripped her elbow carefully—it might be bruised—and hurried her along.

Some crew were about, securing the ships for sea. The tents would be down soon, then hoisted back up as sails. Luckily, no one paid much attention to three youths.

Erki bounded catlike over the gunwale and pulled at Jesrin’s hands as Riga shoved at her hips. The girl winced. Beaten there, too. But it took practice or help to board the outward curve of a kanr.

In the dim twilight, Father was visible at the stern, checking the steering oar and ballast. Before he turned, Riga shoved Jesrin down behind a pair of barrels.

“Erki,” she said, and stood as he threw a heavy, smelly tarp atop the girl.

He stood and whispered, “Don’t move at all until I say so.”

Father came back, moving easily around netted crates and barrels. He didn’t look or act his age, and the ship was his domain.

“Where have you been?” he demanded crossly.

“I took a last look at the tiled market to the south,” she said. “It’s so pretty.” She tried hard to make that sound honest. It was something she might have done . . . four years before. Would Father catch that?

“You’ll have cleaning duty until I say otherwise. Both of you,” he replied. He looked relieved and annoyed but not angry.

“Sorry, Father,” she said.

“Yes, Father,” Erki agreed.

“Stow the ropes, help with the sail bindings, and get ready to depart. We have a good wind to speed us north by west.”

“At once,” she agreed. Good. Shortly they’d be away from this beautiful hell.

The incoming tide made the ship sway and bob, and the wind and the poles inched them down the sand. All at once they shifted, dragged, shifted again, and Sea Fox was back in her realm. The crew jumped to the oars and sculled for deeper water. They were free peasants, hired and paid, and Riga would bet them against any slave rowers. As free men they’d also fight for their master and their pay. Yet another reason the Kossaki traded unmolested.

The ships were just forming up in line to head out to sea, when a bright yellow harbor boat headed for them, with a toot of a brass horn. They all stopped their departure, keeping station in the lapping waves to avoid beaching again.

The boat drew alongside, and some official or other in gleaming white silk accepted a hand aboard. Behind him was the watchman from the night before, and Riga’s nerves rippled cold.

“May I help you?” Father asked. “I believe our tariffs are in order.” He held out a leather book with a stamped sheet from the revenue agent. He’d paid the tariff Riga had calculated and tossed in ten percent as “a gift for the temple,” which meant for the agent’s pocket. All should be in order. Though Riga knew that was not the issue in question.

“My apologies for disturbing you,” the man said with mock politeness. “The Amar sends his regards and his sadness at losing a fine servant girl.”

“We brought no servant girl,” Father said. “The only woman on my ships is my daughter. Grom has his wife and girl child aboard his ship. Ranuldr has his wife and two daughters.”

Erki stood alongside Riga. They’d had the same lesson, that to stand firm was better than to cower. Here they were side by side, and would the guard know, or mention it if he did?

Erki had changed clothes, so he would not be apparent at once. Would the man recognize Riga, though? But no local man should look at a woman. He’d seen her earlier, but had he “seen” her? She was also in shipboard trews and tunic now, leaning on a rigging hook as if it were a spear. She stared back at him, trying to look quizzical and faintly bored. He studied her, but it was all pretense. He really hadn’t noticed the women. There’d been no real reason to at the time, and he wouldn’t admit so now. Riga didn’t blame him, knowing how the Amar might respond.

He looked hard at Erki, but without the cloak and in light, the boy looked more a man. He also didn’t show any expression at all, though she could sense the nervous shivers.

“She was with a young boy last night. What about your boys?”

“Only Erki here,” Father said. “He was on watch last night. I expect your own shore patrol will remember him. There are a number of other young men, though it depends on what you mean by ‘boy.’ ”

Was Father lying as a matter of course, to get this over with? Or did he know and was covering for them? His words were unbothered.

The watchman looked Erki over but didn’t finger him. Good so far.

The official asked, “Which girl was sick and stayed in town?”

“Not mine,” Father said. “I suppose it could have been Ranuld’s eldest girl. She’s fifteen. All ours are accounted for, though, we’re not missing any.”

Of course they weren’t missing any. Father was deliberately misunderstanding. My people are in order. Do you believe your own are not?

“All your women are as they should be?” They looked uncomfortable. The Kossaki ships had canvas weather shields at the rear, and little privacy. It was understood that one didn’t stare or annoy a woman even bathing or changing, but that was certainly not understood here. The very subject made them cringe and shy away. Inside,