“Why were those men after you?” she asked. “It’s no crime to leave a ship, that I know of.”
Paolo looked up at her, hesitated, and appeared to grow more aware of his surroundings.
“It is, if you’re property,” he said quietly, setting the cup on the floor and pulling the blanket tighter.
Even Brot’an stopped pacing. “What do mean by ‘property’?”
Paolo looked up at the tall, scarred elf, and his mouth closed.
“From what Wynn’s told us,” Magiere said, “slavery is illegal in the Numan lands. The captain of a ship can’t own him.”
“When have most humans ever obeyed their own laws?” Brot’an countered.
“Drist is not in the Numan countries,” Paolo said quietly. “It is a ... free port. I was traded away to cover a debt, and the captain now owns me.”
Chap closed his eyes. They were up to their necks now—the boy was an indentured servant or laborer. Leesil had broken what constituted law here by harboring stolen property.
Leesil crouched down. “What you mean?”
“My father was unable to pay our tithe for the last three years. Our chief covered the debt in exchange for services. Father couldn’t leave the farm with no one else to work but my mother and three younger sisters. So our chief sold me into service to cover the loss—sold me to a captain bringing workers and laborers up north.”
“Sounds like slavery to me,” Magiere said.
Chap clenched his jaws. Now Magiere was turning to Leesil’s side.
“In my years among human nations, I have seen this arrangement often,” Brot’an said. “Indentured servitude is a binding agreement. If what the boy says is true, we are now thieves in possession of stolen property.”
Chap concluded this as well, but Leesil whirled on the balls of his feet.
“Legal or not, it’s slavery!” he shouted back in Belaskian. “The strong—the rich, the so-called nobles—controlling the weak and poor ... like livestock!”
Paolo, not understanding what was said, shrank against the wall in confusion. Even Wayfarer winced at the open anger in Leesil’s voice.
All this was getting out of control, though Chap was at a loss for how to stop it.
Leesil knew what it meant to be a slave and worse. He had grown up as a spy and assassin, like his father and mother, serving Lord Darmouth in the Warlands. He’d betrayed peasants and nobles alike, and had even killed them upon the warlord’s command. Only one, perhaps two at most, of the three members of Leesil’s family were ever allowed—at the same time—to go beyond their home on the lake’s edge below Darmouth’s keep. If any one of them disobeyed, the others’ lives would be forfeit.
“The captain let me up on deck to help scrub,” the boy blurted out in Numanese. “That’s how I jumped overboard. But there are many others ... in the hold.”
Leesil turned on the boy and demanded, “What ship?”
Chap tried to interrupt. —No—
Paolo looked around at everyone. “A big one, from Witeny, at the end of the third pier.”
No one spoke for a moment. They had all seen that ship.
“Leesil?” Magiere finally whispered.
He turned his head, and his eyes narrowed in warning.
“Where were they taking you?” Magiere asked the boy.
Paolo shook his head slightly. “Somewhere north, farther. The crew was set for a long journey. That’s all I ever learned, except that we stopped at every port along the way, sometimes for days. Some crew always came back with more people. A few in the hold mentioned a camp ... and ...”
He paused, lost in thought.
“And what?” Magiere asked.
Paolo looked uncertain at first, as if whatever he thought of confused him. “Some were kept apart. Somebody said they were craftsmen: carpenters and smiths. One time they pulled someone out to help mend the bonds. I think they called him a ... a ropewalker?”
Chap did not know that term.
“A shipyard,” Brot’an interrupted. “A ropewalker works the lines and machines that make the heavy cables for ships. The indentured servants in the hold are to be used for labor in a shipyard.”
“We’re getting them out,” Leesil said, switching back to Belaskian. “I don’t care what else is going on. I’m not letting that slaver leave the harbor with anyone in its hold!”
Chap had had enough. —No— ... —I feel—for them—but we cannot—stray from—our purpose—
Leesil ignored him and turned to Magiere. “I’m going to check out that ship. Are you coming?”
Chap eyed Magiere, who stood watching Leesil. She didn’t need to answer. She would never refuse her husband, even if a part of her disagreed, here and now. Chap struggled for any way to stop them, for as much as he, too, wished to help, he could not risk either of them being lost.
“Wait!” Brot’an barked, and he looked at the boy. “When did your ship dock?”
“Two days ago.”
“While on deck, did you hear of how long it would remain here?”
Paolo nodded. “Some of the crew said this was a good place for their ... needs. Maybe a while.”
Brot’an turned to Leesil. “That ship is not going anywhere tonight. Let me look it over in the morning. I can accomplish this without being noticed and return with what I learn. I can gauge the size of the crew and their capabilities better during the day.”
Leesil didn’t say anything, and his expression was unreadable.
“That does sound best,” Magiere put in. “We’ll have a better chance, if any, if we know what we’re up against.”
“All right.” Leesil finally answered, “but we will have a chance ... one way or another.”
Chapter Twenty-two
By midmorning the follow day, Dänvârfij made one change in the watch rotation. Rhysís remained atop a warehouse and watching the port, while Eywodan and Tavithê held the Bashair. But Fréthfâre’s pain had grown worse in the night, so Dänvârfij had sent Én’nish to the inn. She took Én’nish’s place watching the hotel from a nearby rooftop.
As yet nothing useful had been learned regarding the Cloud Queen’s length of stay. This made Dänvârfij anxious. Her quarry could be packing to leave even now, and she could not let them escape to open waters. Worry had plagued her since dawn as she tried to formulate alternatives.
Én’nish had not exaggerated about the hotel; it was a fortress. While watching the guards and the barred windows, Dänvârfij toyed with the notion of direct infiltration.
No, it was still better to set a trap for their quarry in the ...
The hotel’s front door opened.
A tall, cloaked figure emerged. Male, judging by height—excessive height for a human—he stepped out past the guards. Even though he was heavily cloaked, his movements were unmistakable.
Dänvârfij tilted her head to one side as she watched Brot’ân’duivé walk up the street.
If she could kill him now, Magiere and Léshil would be more vulnerable. This thought faded as quickly as it formed.
She could not take Brot’ân’duivé alone. Such an act would likely end in her death and leave her purpose unfulfilled. It was better to learn where he went and why, which might lead to solutions for getting their quarry into the open. She rose slightly, preparing to follow.
Brot’ân’duivé was walking the wrong way.
Dänvârfij had expected him to head toward the port. She stared in puzzlement as he moved inland. What other purpose could he have in this lawless human city? After letting him get one cross street ahead, she leaped silently to the next rooftop. A greimasg’äh could sense pursuit more easily than most, and she could not allow him to become aware of her.