Repentance winced.
The old man cleared his throat. "We'll soon find out how wise you are, young man. Answer me this:
When dragon breath and Harthill meet,
Icy tower, searing heat,
I roll down the city street,
And make my enemies stumble.
What am I?"
"What is that supposed to be, Calamity?" Mistress Merricc asked. "You ask him a riddle to test his intelligence? Wouldn't it be better to ask him how many chignets of potatoes are in a bashful? Or how many beads he'll earn if he grows eighteen bashfuls of potatoes on each of thirty parcels of land? Something along those lines?"
"All due respect, Mistress, but I'm not interested in the boy's mathematical ability. I been here with your daddy many a time buying slaves. Let me do my job."
She held up her hands in surrender and stepped back, again.
Repentance checked Sober's expression trying to see if he knew the answer to the riddle. His face held no emotion as he stared at the ground.
He didn't know.
He had to know.
If Repentance could see Sober on a farm working for Mistress Merricc—she offered up a quick prayer. If he had a fair mistress, he might be able to forgive one day and Repentance might find her load of guilt a little lighter. Besides, he deserved to have a good position on a farm with a mistress that wouldn't beat him. He'd done nothing wrong. He was suffering through no choice of his own.
She stared at Sober, willing him to know the answer to the riddle.
The old slave shifted his weight from one foot to the other.
Mistress Merricc, looking skeptical, opened her mouth as if to speak, but closed it again when Calamity shook his head.
"Give him a trickle of time to work it out, Mistress," Calamity said. "It's good that he pauses. A wise man does not rush."
Repentance tried to work out the riddle herself. When dragon breath and Harthill meet—icy tower, searing heat.
She didn't know what would happen if a dragon breathed on Harthill's towers, because she'd never been around ice. Or dragons, for that matter. Maybe chunks of ice would crack off and crash down onto the street to make men stumble. More likely, rivers of water would flood the streets.
She was so intent on the riddle that she didn't notice the two troopers until they stood in front of her.
The big one set to untying her hands.
Her legs trembled. This was it. She was headed back down the mountain. Back to the gray life. Only her new gray life would be even worse than the old.
She, the one who hated the overlords so much, was destined for their entertainment. If it weren't so sad, it would be funny. It was sad, though. The thought of an overlord man touching her, turned her stomach sour.
"Repentance," Sober said.
She couldn't look at him.
"May Providence give you a torch for your right hand and cast a solid path before your feet," he said.
Repentance didn't understand. She heard Sober pronouncing the ancient blessing on her, but it made no sense. He hated her. Didn't he? She glanced up to search his eyes.
He smiled a sad sort of smile.
The trooper, one giant hand encircling her upper arm, yanked her away from her post.
"May thick fog hide you, Repentance," Sober said. Then he turned to look at Calamity and continued, "even as it causes your enemies to stumble."
"You see!" Calamity shouted. "I knew he was a smart one."
"Is he? How do you know?" Mistress Merricc asked.
"Fog, Mistress. The answer to the riddle is fog."
A fat grin spread across her face and her chins wobbled as she nodded.
Repentance reluctantly pulled her gaze away from Sober. He was safe. That was something. And he'd forgiven her. Her heart lifted at the thought. He didn't hate her. She hurried after the trooper trying to catch her body up to the arm he was yanking.
He pulled Repentance off the slave dock and turned into an alleyway which ran beside the building. "Why are we taking this one so early?" he asked.
The other one turned to answer, and Repentance saw that he was missing an ear. "Dockmaster's afraid she'll come to harm," he said. "She's bought and paid for and he don't want anyone messing with her."
Repulsed, Repentance tore her attention off the earless side of his head. It had probably been bitten off in a fight. They were no better than animals.
The trooper yanking on her arm smiled at—no, he leered—at her. "Who's the lucky fellow with the pocket full of beads?"
"The pocket that was full of beads, you mean. His pocket is a trickle lighter after paying for this one, I can guarantee."
"Whose pocket are we discussing?"
The big trooper tripped on a crack in the ice. He jerked her arm while regaining his balance and Repentance cried out.
"Careful with her," Earless said. "She's going to the whore house ... I mean the healing house at Hot Springs, but I don't think Jadin bought her for regular service. I hear this one is reserved for the prince himself."
"Yoiks!" The big one jerked away from her as if her arm had become a hot coal. "I hope I haven't left a mark."
"Your life's not worth two beads if she's bruised."
Repentance rubbed her sore arm and shoulder. If it wasn't for the bit about the prince, she wouldn't mind going back. She hated the gray swamp but from the healing house she might be able to catch glimpses of Comfort and the little boys every now and again. And she wouldn't have to worry about having sons. Ever. She could almost make herself feel glad about her fate.
