At the thought of Comfort, her heart clenched as if a dried hook briar was twisting into the middle of her chest.
Repentance swallowed hard, and prayed.
When the cart came to a breach in the wall, they turned into a wide drive, which circled around in front of a big building also made of red and tan stone. The driver halted the horse at the front steps where two uniformed men waited.
"Hancock from Hot Springs," the driver said to the men, as he and the slaver jumped from the cart.
One man nodded. "Yes sir. Will you need your wagon now, or will you be stopping for lunch?"
"Lunch." The driver took off his hat and wiped his forehead with a kerchief. Repentance stared. In the fog, overlord hair always looked dull and had a grayish cast, but in the sunlight it looked golden.
"Transfer the slaves and guard them," the slaver said, dropping several beads into the servant's hand before following the driver into the building.
Repentance turned her attention to the servants. They wore hats, but she could see black hair underneath. And their eyes were brown.
The shorter of the two headed toward the barns.
The cart lurched forward as the other man led the horse to a water trough, which stood on the side of the drive. The horse drank while the man rubbed his neck and whispered to him in a soothing voice. After a minute the man threw Repentance an uncomfortable glance. "What you looking at? I've grown horns atop my handsome head?"
He was handsome and Repentance blushed at being caught staring. "It's just that ... just that ... you're not an overlord," she stammered.
"What's it to you?"
"But you're not a slave. I saw the overlord pay you."
"Even slaves can earn beads if they work hard."
"Really?" That was hopeful news. "Can a slave earn enough to buy his freedom? How long have you worked here?"
"Buy his freedom!" The man laughed. The horse finished drinking and nuzzled him with a sloppy, wet face. "We've lived here all our days prior, and we'll live here forever after, won't we Bargess, old man?" he said patting the animal. "There's never freedom for a slave. But we can't complain, can we old man? For we've a kind master as compared with some." Looking back at Repentance, he added, "Leastways, I'd much rather be down here than in the ice city where some are headed, and that's speaking straight."
At mention of the ice city, the collar of her button blouse suddenly felt too tight. Repentance tugged at it. "What's an ice city?"
"A city made of ice. What else?"
Repentance had never seen ice. She'd read about it in school. Frozen water. It was said to be very cold.
"What's wrong with the ice city?"
"I'll give you a trickle of advice, young babbler, 'cause I hate to see any living thing suffer no matter how ignorant it is. Talk a lot less, and you'll do a lot better in the ice city. Or anywhere else, for that matter." He turned his attention back to Bargess, the horse, rubbing his nose and crooning to him, obviously done with Repentance, the babbler.
"There's a good, old, tired fellow," he said. "Don't you fret. I'll fix you up with a bag of hot oats." The horse whickered, and the man purred. "That's right. I give you my word, old man, and you know when Rebuke says a thing, his word is as strong as a steel bit."
Sober, who had appeared to be ignoring everyone, gave a small gasp. "Rebuke? What's your back name?"
"None of your concern."
"I have a brother named Rebuke. Rebuke Marsh."
Repentance caught the man's look of surprise, but he quickly pulled down a mask of indifference. "That can't be me, can it?" he said. "I've lived here since I were a wee colt. I've never had me a Mam, nor a Pap, nor any brothers or sisters."
Looking from Rebuke to Sober, Repentance saw that both men had the same chin—square and dimpled. Rebuke's eyes were round while Sober's tilted up slightly at the outer corners, but Repentance remembered that Goodman Marsh had round eyes, too. The noses clinched it. They were identical, leaning a little to the left as they did. She finished studying them and gasped. This was Sober's brother. And ... what about her brothers? If Sober's brother was here— "Do you know any boys named Tribulation or Devastation?" she blurted out.
Rebuke glared at her. "If you've lost boys, let it lie. If you didn't keep track of them when they were babies, you hardly have a right to ask after them now."
Her cheeks burned as she remembered Tribulation calling out to her. She had done nothing to save him.
Bargess shifted and the cart jerked forward, as the other servant returned, driving a wagon that was half the size of their long-bed slave cart. Repentance shifted her attention from Rebuke to the new wagon. There was nothing to drive in the smaller wagon—no horses—and no wheels. It skimmed along just above the ground. Repentance had never seen anything like it. She looked at Sober to see what he made of it.
He seemed unaware of its arrival—his eyes were trained on Rebuke's face. "Our parents loved you," he said softly. "They didn't give you up easily. It's not like they set you down outside one day and forgot where they put you."
Color flamed in Rebuke's cheeks, and a look of longing came and went, very quickly. Then he said loudly to the wagon driver. "You can always tell the ones fresh out of the swamp, eh, Woeful? So talkative."
"Is that how you tell?" Woeful gave an exaggerated sniff and waved his hand in front of his nose.
