Damon
The distant rider that Flier had pointed out rode a small horse similar to ours. They were adapted to the harsh environment, required little feed, and less water. They could carry a rider all day and most of the night. The rider had already crossed our intended path, well to the south of us. He was dressed in long robes much as we were. Since he had first come into view, he increased his distance from us. The rider dwarfed the small horse as he rode as it hard.
Probably from habit, he checked behind himself and spotted us. He instantly slowed. Most encounters of the same sort in untamed lands required the lone rider to either continue on his course or flee. This one was different. He turned and rode to meet us head-on. His small horse trotted our way, a rarity in the desert. I pulled my sword and swung it in an easy circle above my head, allowing the sunlight to sparkle off the blade with my intricate moves. It was a warning that I was armed and knew how to use my blade.
The rider never varied. We also continued moving ahead, Flier and me at the front, Anna had switched horses to ride with Avery earlier, and Kendra moved closer to join the two of us in the front.
She said, “I think that’s the same Kaon Warrior from the Slave-Master who is responsible for your health.”
It was. As he rode closer, his hands were empty of weapons, but not his waist. The great sword was there, the blade unsheathed as always. We pulled to a stop and waited.
He called breathlessly as he neared us, “My master sends you his fondest greetings.”
“Why would he do that?” I asked.
“He sent ten of us to locate you and give you a message.”
Avery moved closer to us. “Do you know this man? If not, I should share the reputation he wears.”
“He is assigned to care for me,” I said, watching the eyes of the warrior and trying not to grin.
“That task was put aside,” the warrior growled.
“I never heard that, so I still consider it as the obligation the Slave-Master placed on you. Whatever happens to me will also happen to you. All here are my witnesses. What is your message?”
He almost laughed at my comment but caught himself as if thinking humor undignified. “My master is entertaining your Princess.”
The words struck almost like a physical blow. Both relief and fear fought in equal amounts.
Kendra nudged her horse closer. “Entertaining? Explain.”
“She is not a prisoner. The Slave-Master and her were sitting in his great-tent with her enjoying the finest of wines when I departed. She is being treated as a royal guest, and the Slave-Master was asking if she would enjoy a game of blocks.”
Kendra asked, “How did she come to be with him?”
“She was captured as our men took slaves from the settlements along the river. True, she was trussed and transported as any slave, but as soon as my master discovered who she was, he released her and sent us to locate you.”
Suspicious, I said, “What was she doing along the river?”
He grunted, then said, “The story as relayed to me, was that she was in the company of a bounty hunter waiting for the morning ferry to float to Dagger.”
“What happened to him?” I persisted.
The Kaon Warrior shrugged. “He would not have made a good slave, so he was not taken. I do not know more but suspect he died.”
Avery spoke up, “We’re wasting time. Our concern is to rescue the princess and all this other you’re speaking of isn’t relevant.”
He was right, of course. “Take us to her . . . please,” I said. Adding the please at the end was impromptu, not planned. If I’d have known the response in his eyes and manner, I’d have used the word from the first. His cold, official manner evaporated like morning mist in the spring, to reveal brilliant sunshine.
He said, “You were right before when you said the task of protecting you has not been lifted. Only friendship is a stronger bond.”
“We’re friends, now?” I asked as I pulled my reins to the side so my horse would follow his.
“Not yet.”
He checked on us often, slowing his horse to match the tired pace of ours. We rode west again, away from Dagger and parallelled the river, although the water remained out of sight. Our drinking gourds were empty, the horses starting to stumble, and the heat of the day sucking what little energy we had when we rode over the top of a hill and found a shallow, green valley.
At one end, near a small lake, were familiar dirty, brown slave tents. At the other stood a colorful tent with cheerful pennants flying in the soft breeze. We headed for it, grateful it was not more distant, or we may not have reached it without rest.
We rode warily and weary into the camp of the Slave-Master. I trusted him to a greater extent than was due, but perhaps trust was confused with mutual respect. He wouldn’t hesitate to beat me at a game of chance. The question became how he would treat me when not playing a game.
The thing about blocks is that like many games of chance, they often reveal the inner thoughts of a person. Is he reckless or conservative? Ambitious or benign? Will he cheat if he believes he can get away with it, or is he honest? Those things and more are there for each player to find out.
I believed the Slave-Master to be skillful, directed, ruthless, and honest in his ways. Those can conflict under certain circumstances. We were not friends.
He stood, hands on hips, in the meager shade of a palm. When we pulled up in front of him, he was smiling. “I have your princess as my guest.”
Avery said, “Name your ransom price.”
He glowered at Avery, a man unknown to him. “I do not sell my guests. Perhaps you should go inside and reacquaint yourselves.” He turned to a slave standing a few steps away. “Water and feed their horses. Touch or take nothing.”
The threat was understood by the slave as he came deferentially towards us. As a group, the five of us walked to the tent, the Slave-Master trailing far behind. As I pushed aside the flap, the dim light inside revealed Elizabeth sitting on the dais surrounded by pillows covered in expensive cloth from many kingdoms.
Two women sat in front of her, lost in intense conversation. She glanced our way and leaped to her feet, running almost before her feet touched the carpets, a cry of relief sounding that brought tears to the eyes of all of us.
We hugged, shouted, kissed, and danced. Even Avery joined us.
As we did those things, a thought came to me, *Look at Emma. Look past her.*
It was Anna, and as I twirled, my eyes landed first on Anna, who smiled wanly, as if happy that we were happy. A half-turn away was Emma. Her brows were slightly furrowed, not exactly showing anger, but there was more. Perhaps fear? At any rate, she was not happy.
As she concentrated on our celebration and thought nobody was paying attention to her, I saw one of the tent posts behind her. Better put, I saw it through her. The tall post descended to the ground, surrounded by more carpets and pillows, along with a table laden with fruit. My eyes followed the post from the ground to the peak of the tent, despite it being behind her.
Her image was solid but vaguely transparent as if the maker of the image of the little girl had allowed his concentration to stray. As quickly as I noticed, her image solidified, she smiled at me, and I continued to spin in my dance—knowing she had caught me looking.
I probably had shown surprise in my expression and given myself away. Normally I prided myself on displaying a lack of outward emotion but had slipped, and she caught it. She now knew I suspected her. That meant I would have to act. Soon.