My belief was that they were so despondent that if the chains were removed during the night, they would wake and take their places and continue to walk into Kaon as if nothing had changed. The depths of despair when becoming a slave is complete and total.
The mountains were not high, the path almost a road, and despite a long climb to the top, relatively easy. There were places to pause and drink alongside streams, the stunted trees provided a measure of shade, and a soft breeze cooled the air, so we walked most of the day.
Twice, I caught glimpses of Kendra’s dragon in the distance. Anna was chained in front of me, and despite her young age and small size, she managed to keep up while saying little. Over and over, I was reminded of Kendra when she was that age.
I’d never had a friend beside her. Being a princess had its own prices to pay. Girls, my age would grow up to be my subjects, and they knew it, as I did. Many tried to befriend me at the urging of their parents for anticipated future favors. Others did it to advance themselves or the lot of their fathers. None because of liking me. All had selfish reasons, often more than one, and often intended to better the lives of the parents who sent them to be my friend.
Only Damon and Kendra had no reason to like me. At first, they hadn’t, and that was a pleasant surprise. They were there to eat until no longer hungry and that satisfied them. Food and a warm place to sleep. Neither understood what a princess was and thus couldn’t try to manipulate me as others tried. As we grew a little older together, both became my friends and protectors. They defended me without my knowledge or asking—and they were ruthless about it.
I hoped I reciprocated. The three of us were seldom separated. I rarely needed to come to their defense in Crestfallen, especially in the palace politics there, but everyone knew which side I’d take if there was a confrontation.
The following morning, we learned to walk while chained, which meant stepping with our feet in time and stride to avoid tripping the person in front or behind. While that, and the mental strain of wearing manacles, was horrible, the rags we dressed in were worse.
Twice Flier managed to break the copper pins in his ankle chains. He had tripped, but I suspected the first time had been to test the pins, not from an accident. The metalsmith pounded in another, and soon, he fell again. Seeing him free himself like that gave me hope.
The torn, stained, and stinking robes hung on us, intentionally larger sizes than needed to conceal both our physical shapes and weapons. That night, we practiced breaking the pins in the manacles until replacements were in short supply.
As we reached the level desert at the base of the mountains, we first encountered an army detail guarding the road as if there were thousands of people from Kondor trying to enter Kaon. The pompous corporal leading the detail barked a few commands at the Slave-Master, who ignored them. One of the Kaon Warriors, a man twice the size of the corporal, nudged his horse to the side of the soldier. He said, “Move your men and get out of our way or die this fine morning.”
“We have a right to . . .”
The massive blade Kaon Warriors use appeared in his hand, the blade poised to remove the head of the corporal. “Now.”
The corporal watched the blade as he ordered his men to let us pass. When the last of the clanking chains were beyond, the warrior lowered his blade and rode ahead. It was the first of three details that tried to detain us. All three failed.
The road had not been built. It was packed sand from the passing of feet, human and animal. To either side was more dry sand without a plant, tree, or brown blade of grass. Ahead were more mountains to our left, and by the end of the day, we saw green. There were trees or grass ahead, which meant water, probably a river. The road we followed seemed to angle to meet it.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Damon
The Slave-Master had noticed the quality of my sword and asked me about the addition along the rear edge of my scabbard as we sat near the campfire. It felt an eerily familiar position being his slave again, and Flier probably felt the same as he too wore leg irons. Flier hadn’t said much since we joined up with the Slave-Master again, but he stood at our side, and there seemed little more to ask for. I told the Slave-Master how it was supposed to hold a few extra arrows, and of the lost longbow, I’d carried across my back because it seemed I’d never had a bow handy when I needed one. He approved of the idea and asked, “You lost your bow, again?”
“The night your men captured us on the mountain pass. It was beside the campfire after I settled in for the night. We fought with swords, so the bow was lost.”
“For that, I’m sorry. Kendra told me your blade sang when you fought by the river?”
“It did. Once. In a battle, I heard it making a scream, and another blade answered. Instead of fighting to the death, the two of us paused and compared our swords, which were identical except for a couple of nicks in mine. They must have been made by the same hands.”
“Or enchanted by the same sorceress.”
That idea hadn’t occurred to me then, but he had seized on it instantly. I’d met and dealt with several mages, but only one sorceress and then only briefly. Despite my meager magic abilities, I stayed away from others with stronger powers. “They only deal with emotions and people, not metals and physical objects.”
“True. But what if one placed an enchantment intended for people on swords to help them identify enemies or friends when fighting?” He seemed to be speculating and not speaking from prior knowledge, and drawing information from the unknown indicated more intelligence than most would credit him with. “While it is a spell placed on metal intended for men, I’ve heard of a few similar ones.”
“I didn’t know that could be done.”
The Slave-Master’s eyes bored into mine as he decided if I lied. Then, his mind made up, he said, “Can you read?”
“Yes.”
He nodded. “I know a little store in Kaon where books are sold. The owner knows the contents of them all, and if we were to ask and pay him a silver coin or two, he would direct us to books about magic.”
I said, “That’s a good idea, but I’ve looked for them at Crestfallen, in the royal library and stores. There are none.”
He smiled in the way that displayed genuine humor. “That is undoubtedly true. But, as I said, I know of a little store in Kaon that is open to but a few customers. Many of the books he sells will not be found in the places you’ve searched.”
I gave that a few moments to sink in. What he was telling me was that certain books were either secret or kept out of the hands of those without magic powers. It also said the Slave-Master moved among people outside of the law for more than just taking and selling slaves.
I glanced at the nearest Kaon Warrior. He was barrel-chested, his upper arms as large as my waist, and began learning his fighting skills at around six-years-old. What struck me, was that they obeyed the Slave-Master as at least an equal. He ordered them to do his bidding, and they rarely objected. What hold did he have on them?
Was it because of money? I didn’t think so. Nor was it the position he held. From his own lips, he’d told the tale of being taken a slave and killing the previous Slave-Master. I’d have thought they would have retaliated by killing him.
“Why do the warriors you have as guards obey you?”
“Noticed that, did you?”
He was smiling again, and that made me uneasy. I waited. From what I knew of the man, he would need to tell me to gain my respect, if for no other reason. “I did. We have time now, how about telling me?”