"That isn't necessary, Gunner," Barrin said, numb after observing the battle. The gunner didn't say a word, but the loader inserted another shell into breech. The gunner fired the round before answering.
"We can't rescue them, and nobody is in sight. If I had a choice between getting eaten and getting shot, I'd take shot." Barrin remembered the small mouth of the sea archer and the sharks converging on the area from his call. The long-lived mage said nothing as the gunner took aim again.
Chapter 5
Haddad hated serving as Latulla's aide. Her one redeeming feature, in Haddad's eyes, was the small freedom she allowed him to leave her presence. As long as he performed the tasks she set and averted his eyes downward when she looked at him, he could avoid supervision. But serving as her aide meant long periods of time in the company of Keldons, and that was always dangerous.
Haddad had learned something about Keldon society. There were levels of challenge and dominance. A Keldon did not have to meet the eyes of a superior or attack an inferior to express the power. Sometimes warriors attacked the equipment or a slave of another Keldon. Haddad saw servants cuffed, beaten, and even killed to express power or belittle a superior without a full challenge. Latulla was a master of this technique. With a single well-placed blow of her staff, she could lay out a slave for days in excruciating pain without permanent harm. It wasn't kindness or pity that pulled her blow. An injured slave was a constant reminder of her authority and power. An inferior Keldon could not afford to kill one of a limited number of slaves. Latulla's every cruelty was calculated for maximum pain and effect on those involved.
"We will be taking one of the small land barges today. Find the duty crew and instruct them to ready themselves," Latulla had directed. A slave who ordered or commanded a Keldon warrior always risked death. The fact that Latulla could use slaves to carry orders reinforced her authority in the camp. It was a delicate balancing act that Haddad must perform. Too submissive and Latulla would punish him. Too forceful and the barge captain might kill him for presumption. As Haddad considered Latulla, he knew he would err on the side of arrogance rather than risk her displeasure. Besides, it was one of the few chances Haddad would get to tweak a Keldon's flat nose and not lose his head for it.
Haddad had seen other sections of the camp since his inclusion in Latulla's household but had never ridden one of the small barges. The first step was finding where the small barges were located. Haddad stopped a slave he recognized as a crewman from his apparel and the tools in his belt. Barge slaves were allowed instruments that were considered weapons in other hands. The sharpened quill or hollow awl was sturdy enough to punch through leather armor. It pierced seals and drained out the magical elixir powering the Keldon barges. It was also used to fill reservoirs and refresh fluids quickly with the attachment of a simple bulb. He asked directions to the barges and their commanders in the extended camp.
"This morning they've shoved us over toward the corrals. The fighting broke out again and disturbed the colony." The slave gestured to the empty pack he carried over his shoulders. His body was scarred and bruised by the casual brutality many of the lowest status Keldons expressed, both to reinforce authority and prove their own positions. "I'm to bring cheese back, if I can get any. There are ships coming in, we heard, and the storehouse may be relaxing the rations." The slave stepped off for the warehouses.
Haddad felt a little jealousy as he watched the man striding away. What was the man's name? He realized with shame he hadn't thought to ask. He was seeing more and more signs that life in Latulla's household was changing him. The little courtesies were draining away and leaving watered down Keldon arrogance. The man had obviously suffered more physical abuse than Haddad had, but despite his bruises, he was in better spirits. He was happier as a worker for the lowest commanders than Haddad was as Latulla's voice. Haddad wondered how his own soul would fare a year from now as he set off for the small barges.
Shouting and the odor from livestock pens were pervasive when Haddad finally arrived. The warriors here appeared only a little different from the slaves working on the barges. Haddad spotted the small purple standard flying over the overlord's tent. Lord Druik was reclining and napping in the surrounding noise. Haddad considered the titular commander of the small barge fleet with interest and a little wonder. Druik was huge, even for a Keldon. Muscles rippled as he stretched a little, his hand moving slightly as he dreamed. Druik's entire left side was damaged. His arm was missing from the elbow down. A hook was strapped on tightly, the straps circling the Keldon's chest with studs liberally applied to the harness and cup over the stump. The lower leg was likewise encased, and there were sheathes for two knives on either side above the knee. Haddad wondered why anyone with one hand would have weapons in so awkward a location. Druik's ribs on his left side were twisted and covered with scars.
Druik was an anomaly to Haddad. Every Keldon he had ever seen held his place by force. Physical contests of strength were common even up the line of command. The jockeying went on at the highest levels of Keldon society. How a crippled warrior held even the ceremonial post of small craft commander was a mystery.
A wave off to the side of the small tent caught Haddad's attention. A dainty table with a clerk sitting behind it looked over the stockyards and the men hauling away dung. As Haddad approached, an especially pungent waft of stench set him coughing as the fitful breeze turned, putting the tent downwind of the smell. Haddad's eyes watered as he stood before what must be the first real bureaucrat he had seen since he left the League territory. He couldn't believe how happy he was to see a petty official.
"What do you want?" the little man droned as he shuffled some papers, suggesting his time was valuable. "I don't have all day, you know." The official was looking right at him, and Haddad was now more accurately remembering the aggravation petty officials could give.
"The Artificer Latulla commands a small land barge and crew be assigned to her convenience immediately for a trip to the interior camps. Additionally, I would like to know what you are doing here." Haddad could not keep hidden his admiration for the small scene of authority any longer.
The small man smiled widely, his teeth coal black and his tongue a grotesque purple. He nudged a desk stool out and waved for Haddad to sit. His smile was amazingly ugly, but the good humor in it was a tonic to Haddad. He even offered Haddad some nuts as refreshment.
"If you don't mind a smile like mine, these are really tasty."
Haddad only nodded but declined to sample the dish. The official was quite tiny and fine featured. His eyes appeared to squint in the light, and his skin was pale.
"My name is Fumash, originally of the Kipamu League Customs Service. Captured by long shore raiders as I inspected a cargo in harbor." Fumash was pensive, his hands slowly touching everything on the table as he spoke. "Not to dwell on the past, I arrived as one of the first slaves to this lovely port and started at the bottom of the bottom. The Keldons had just landed and were setting up. The imported slaves thought me above myself, and so I ended up here." Haddad looked around at the small comforts Fumash arranged for himself, even an awning to be set up if the sun grew too strong. Fumash saw his disbelief.