“I thought you were in the Queen’s care?” Keither asked. Sara’s face darkened and she looked down.
“Yes, I am.”
“Well you look like you’re doing great. Looks like the Queen’s care isn’t so bad after all.” Keither looked at them all smugly.
“No, it’s…” Legon could see tears in her eyes now. The low-cut dress. The makeup. The jewelry. It all suddenly clicked. She was a slave and slaves didn’t have that stuff.
She looked like she couldn’t talk, as if she was ashamed. Like she wanted to go and hide under a rock. With her eyes diverted away from them she said, “Keither, I’m a slave and was sold to an Iumenta that owns a brothel.”
Her voice was etched with the same shame and sadness that adorned her face. Legon was surprised that pain and sadness, not anger, boiled up in him. There was a warm sensation in the back of his head. He tried to ignore it and shifted away from the window, closer to Sara and out of the warm sun. Keither looked dumbstruck and embarrassed. Sasha and Kovos were looking down as an uncomfortable silence grew.
“Can you get away?” Legon asked.
“No, they mark us with magic. Here, look,” she said, turning to them and lifting her hair. It felt like ice water was being poured down his whole body. On the back of her neck was a black tattoo with two circles inside each other. At the center was a six-pointed star. The symbol itself was not the part that unnerved him, but more how it was put there.
“If I leave town and anyone see this tattoo, I will be taken back to my owner, and then…”
Arkin turned the corner into an alley in between two large buildings, looking for the man he was supposed to meet. This part of town wasn’t where you would expect to find an informant. Most of the time you had to go to the bad part of town-the part where the snitches were. Not Monson, though. He wasn’t what you would expect, either.
A figure walked out from behind a carton and waved to Arkin. As he approached, Arkin saw the young man, really a boy around fourteen. His father had been the original informant, but not anymore. Monson’s family was from one of the old human houses, one that had been in charge before the Iumenta swine took over, the House of Grey to be precise. The family was an example of how the queen was able to destroy human nobility. The taxes and penalties that were imposed made it impossible for a family like theirs to exist. Subsequently, all of the noble lines had dissolved, and humanity lost more and more sway in the government. The person in front of him was the last of a line-a line that the Iumenta were keen to destroy.
“What are you doing here?” Monson asked.
“Not happy to see me?”
“It’s not that, but from what I’ve heard, your charge is a wanted man.”
“He is. We took out ten royal guards and are on the run headed south. What can you tell me? How did they find out?”
“Ten royal guards? They really are pathetic, aren’t they?”
Arkin smiled. This is why he liked Monson. He was his dad from his mannerisms down to his attitude. Long black hair obscured much of Monson’s scarred face, a permanent reminder of the fire six years ago. The same fire had killed his father. It was amazing the young boy still lived. Arkin didn’t know much about what had happened, but from all accounts there had been foul play. Monson’s mother had taken it hard and dedicated herself to fighting the Iumenta. As soon as he was old enough, her son joined her. Monson was great at gathering information; because he was so young, people didn’t suspect him.
Monson continued on. “Well, from what I can tell this is being kept quiet. The Queen’s Senashow is in charge. It looks like he just sent out a wide sweep for his first attempt at locating you. But that doesn’t mean that he was planning on his pawns bringing your boy in.”
“What do you mean? And the boy’s name is Legon.”
“Well, here’s the way I see it: They have to know that your charge has some sort of protection, and the royal guard is great at beating things out.”
Arkin gave Monson a wry smile. “I thought you said they were pathetic.”
“Ha! I did and they are, but the Senashow is not. Look at what his planning accomplished. You were flushed right out into the open and now you’re scampering around the Cona Empire without a plan.”
He was probably right. They would need to move fast. By now the empire would have figured out that they were missing soldiers. He kicked himself. It had been dumb to come to Salez, but he needed to figure out how much the Iumenta knew.
“Ok, what else do you know?”
“Nothing. Do you think you’re the first to ask? The Iumenta seem to actually care this time. You need to get south, but be careful. The army has been shipping supplies down that way for a while now.”
“What do you mean? They can’t have everything blocked off.”
“No, but I don’t know what they’re up to. It’s platoons of the main army, so it’s not the Senashow’s doing. But if you’re on a wanted list you’d still better avoid the area.”
Monson turned at a sound down the dark ally. He looked at the end where light was making an attempt to penetrate the dark space. Monson turned back to him. “We need to leave. Just get your people out. Take the long way back to avoid large cities and rivers. If I find out more I will send word.”
And with that Monson Grey walked to the other side of the alley and disappeared. Arkin hurried back to the inn and found his four companions sitting in the tavern with… Sara?
Arkin walked to the table, surprise on his face. Legon noticed that the surprise was part hesitation as well.
“Arkin? What are you doing here? In fact, what are all of you doing here?” Sara asked.
There was silence as they all sat, waiting for someone to talk. He reached up and scratched at the back of his head, which was now tingling. Sasha gave him a stern look.
“Where do you live?” Sasha asked Sara, trying to change the subject.
“In my owner’s business. We work at night, mostly, but it’s really whenever a customer comes in or when we’re shipped off to the army for a week or two.”
“They do what?” Kovos said, all signs of sympathy replaced with anger.
“We go to the barracks sometimes when business is slow, or when we first get here as part of our orientation.”
“Orientation?” Legon said with his head now positively buzzing.
“When we get here, if we aren’t willing to work then we get oriented to our new life.”
“What is involved in this orientation?” Keither asked, looking scared.
“A lot of stuff. Usually we are beaten and then given to a large group of people. They’re told to show us the ropes for a few weeks, but not to do any permanent damage to us physically. Even after they break us we stay in orientation until new girls arrive.” Her face was now very pale. “Mine was three weeks,” she said in a whisper.
There was a pit in Legon’s stomach. He felt for this girl. She had gone through a lot in the last few months and he could see that she was hurting. He wished there were some way to make it better, to take away her pain. He reached out to place his hand sympathetically on her forearm, but as his hand touched her, the feeling in his head shot down his arm. Images, scents, sounds, and feelings flashed in front of his eyes. He was a terrified girl being dragged along. Now he was being whipped. He could feel each lash as it burned across his back, splitting the skin. He gasped as he saw the lash marks heal without a scar. He realized that the whip was enchanted.
The fear was so strong now. He was in a room filled with men, all smiling and calling out. They were on her now, ripping off clothes, hitting and kicking. Then the violation, the humiliation tore through him. The memories of the day he broke, letting them do what they wanted, doing to them what they wanted. Then images of client after client ran through his mind. Each time he felt all the emotions, all the pain-everything. It was too much.
He pulled his hand off her arm, breathing hard. Sara yelped and clapped her hand to her neck. Sasha was up in a heartbeat, scrambling around Sara and lifting her hand from her neck.
“It’s gone,” she said with a gasp.
“What’s gone?” Legon asked.
“The tattoo.” Sasha looked at him. There was an awed and frightened look on her face.
