“Wait!” the man shouted. He then drank as much whisky as he could in a single gulp before taking several deep breaths. Then, unexpectedly, his face bore a quizzical expression. “Do you really think you’re just going to march up to Ocmallum’s estate and demand that he give you information about this girl?”
“No,” Dulnear said with a half-smile. “You are.” He then pressed the glowing steel into Tcharron’s underarm as the slaver howled out in agony into the night sky.
CHAPTER TEN
Ahmcathare
Maren huddled at the rear of her now locked cage as Kugun navigated the narrow city streets of Ahmcathare with a horse-drawn wagon. Streams of people bustled alongside of them, and Maren feared one of them might reach out and grab her through the bars so she curled up as tightly as she could, keeping her arms and legs as close as possible. Their trek upward toward the city’s center was often halted when another wagon traveling the opposite direction had to get by. Her new owner would curse at the other drivers and refused to stop and make room unless he had no other choice.
Most of the great city’s streets were cramped and crowded, offering little of the grandness that seemed to be bestowed upon it from a distance. Its great spires and historic structures were breathtaking from afar. However, once inside the city proper, it was likely that one would find the filth and decay its defining qualities.
Maren buried her nose into the sleeve of her dress. The smell of the horse manure that filled the streets was overwhelming. There was also something else that bothered her about being in the city. It was something that was less obvious than the sights, sounds, and smells of congestion and manic activity. It was familiar in a way, but elusive.
Unexpectedly, there was a voice inside her mind. She recognized it immediately as the voice of her mother. She couldn’t understand what the voice was saying, but the feeling she experienced was just as strong as when she’d heard her mother’s voice as a younger child.
Maren closed her eyes and let the feelings wash over her. It dawned on her that the last time she was in Ahmcathare, she was with her parents for business-related matters concerning her father. They were returning to their home in Blackcloth when their carriage was caught in a rockslide along a mountain pass. She recalled, with vivid memory, the sound of stone crashing into wood, the horses stumbling, and her panicked mother trying to reassure her that everything was going to be all right.
She alone survived that day. After she crawled out from the wreckage, she felt the sensible thing to do was to continue the journey home by foot. After traveling for some time, she sat by the side of the road to rest until a boy from Blackcloth and a man from the north stopped to check on her. The boy took her in, and she had been well cared for by him until now.
“Out of the way!” she heard Kugun yell from the front of the wagon. She glanced left and saw a man hauling a well-stocked handcart. He was blocking the entrance to a precarious-looking alley. Once the man was further down the street, the horses began making their way between the cramped stone buildings, but not before her new owner gave the man a piece of his mind.
The noise of the crowd died down as they traveled further along the alley. Occasionally, Maren could hear Kugun curse as parts of his vehicle would catch the side of one of the buildings. She was tempted to reach out and touch the stone, but was afraid of what might happen if she did.
Eventually, they came to a place where the alley opened up to a large, rectangular space that offered access to the backs of a handful of shops and offices. As the wagon moved closer to one of those shops, Maren could see that there were many slender, winding alleys that branched out from that space, and the thought of getting lost amongst them gave her a chill.
Suddenly, Maren felt her cage jerk forward as the husky frame of her owner pulled it out of the wagon and let it drop to the ground. “Hey!” she yelled as her bottom hit the ground.
“Dis is where you’ll be workin’,” the man said as he pushed the cage up to the back of his shop, next to the rear door. “I’ll git somethin’ to keep the rain out of this cage until I get some space inside set up for ye.” He then disappeared through a doorway saying something about being hungry.
As the girl sat staring through the bars at her surroundings, she could see litter being jostled around by rats. The air was stale amongst the backs of the enormous buildings, and it smelled of urine and rotting food. This was not at all what she imagined it would be like to be a part of the festival crew. She didn’t like Kugun, she didn’t like the city, and she wondered when she was going to get to eat again.
The alley was dark, and Kugun failed to return with anything to keep the rain out of Maren’s cage. Each sound that came from inside the apartment caused her to sit up and anticipate a covering, or at least something to eat, but it was as if the man had forgotten about her there and was just going about his life.
“I’m hungry,” the girl said to herself as a persistent gurgling emanated from her stomach. As she looked about, she counted the lanterns that were glowing from the various windows in the access space where her cage resided. “Five,” she said out loud, and she felt a sense of comfort as their yellow flames cast a warm glow into the disgusting setting.
Echoing from
