Danya
It was my birthday. The day that he
was taken. My birthday. I was finally 18. Finally free to go out into the world
by my own self. I wouldn’t have of course. Not without Mathew. But I was able
to, if I so chose.
Mathew was my best friend. He had
been ever since the nuns had their vision. Well, a bit after that really. They
sent me to Kliq orphanage. That’s where I met him. When I first got there I
thought he was a fine, patient person. I wasn’t easy to get along with in those
days. I thought the nuns abandoned me, you see. But sister Atria had a vision.
She saw my future, my destiny, at Kliq. I think she saw Mathew. Because one
day, he couldn’t take it anymore. And he pushed me to the ground, as 8 year
olds will when 5 year olds do something they don’t like. But that’s when I
finally did something he did like. I got angry. I got really angry and I broke
his nose. I started crying when I saw all the blood, but he just smiled.
“I knew you’d come around.” He’d
said to me. He was the oldest 8 year old I’d ever met. And he never got any
younger. By 10, he got interested in politics. He’d wanted to become a member
of the council. I believed he could do it too. I still do if he was given half
a chance. But orphans aren’t allowed to be elected to any position. Not because
the people don’t think orphans wouldn’t make good decisions on the council. But
because then the council members might lose a good chunk of their income.
There are laws in Rand, you see.
New laws, and old laws. The old laws are unchangeable. Written in the
foundations of this country. To change them would be to unravel the foundations
of Rand itself. And in those old laws it set a budget for schooling and care of
the people and especially of the orphans.
Now, no one knows quite how they
did it, but the council members have put new laws into existence that lowers
the amount of money that actually gets to the schools and orphanages. All that
money goes to line the council member’s pockets. So Mathew gave up his dreams
to go into the council. And took up dreams of stopping them instead. He formed
connections. Friends in other orphanages. The downtrodden. And somehow among
all that, Typhoon was founded. Devoted to washing clear the country of the
council and corruption. And it was that group I found myself sheltered in, 10
years after our meeting. When Mathew finally turned 18.
As a voluntary orphan at Kliq, I
was allowed to leave it if I ever found a better home. Mathew was placed there
3 years before I met him. His parents were fishers off the north coast. They
and all the rest of his family died in a pirate raid. No one knows how little
Mattie survived. He never even told me. The fact is that the council places
children made orphans during war, pirate raids, or work related incidents.
They’re supposed to place them in the least crowded home. But they don’t. Too
many orphanages actually aren’t running anymore. They are on paper. But no
children live in these places. Once the council places a child, they can’t
leave until their 18th birthday.
It’s not just children who are
getting the short end of the stick either. Merchants are made to sell their
wares for coppers. To the rich at least. The merchants of Rand make money where
they can. And where they can’t . . . well. Let’s say the slave trade is
flourishing.
So, this is where I found myself.
As a 15 year old girl I moved into a burned out stone castle in the mountains.
It took a lot of work from me and the boys, but we got the place livable again.
Mathew and the others found it on some trip once. We’d gone into the mountains
several times on trips with the orphanage. He’d never taken me to see the place
though. I got some food growing and the boys brought me some livestock. They
were wary of having me along at first, but Mathew talked them around. And as
soon as they learned how lousy they all were at cooking, they were glad I’d
come. So I’d grow the plants and take care of the livestock. When I needed them
to, they harvested and slaughtered and gutted. And I cooked. And cleaned. And
cleaned. It takes a lot of cleaning and washing and cooking to keep a group of
boys in line. But I liked it. And the boys loved me. And we gained so many
members. Men my age. older men. Some with sons. No women though. Women were too
valuable as slaves.
For 3 years I’d been kept up in
that castle in the mountains. For my safety. The cities are dangerous places
for women. Especially young women. Mathew went out, of course. He recruited. He
went on missions. Freed slaves. Stole from the rich, gave to the poor. All
that. And he paid special attention to Kliq.
“Because that’s where I met you.”
On my 18th birthday, I
begged to go into town. I had no special connection to Kliq, but I missed the
colorful market that the orphanage directors sometimes took us to. So I begged
and I begged. It didn’t work. Finally I threatened. I would go with or without
Mathew. I probably wouldn’t have. But I wanted him to agree. And he did. In
hindsight, I wish he wouldn’t have.
I wore my best dress. Red with gold
trim and pearl beading. It had been a gift from Mathew for my 16th
birthday after his first successful mission. I only wore it on special
occasions. And it was a very special occasion. I had some gold with me. We
needed some provisions at home. Plus, I had 3 years of spending money and I
planned to use some of it on myself.
Truth to tell, I was hoping that
Mathew had realized he loved me. or at least that I loved him. He took me all
over the city and I gawped like a tourist. We went to the temples and the bridges
and the monuments. We even stopped by a colorful Sarian ritual. It was more
beautiful than anything I’d ever seen.
When we walked into the market,
Mathew started acting jumpy. We had an agreement with the thieves in this town.
They help feed the people here too. So we don’t hinder each other. So I knew he
couldn’t be worrying about pickpockets. But I couldn’t figure it out. What
could Mathew possibly be jumpy about? He was a big man. Very strong. Very tall.
He was a man you wouldn’t want to mess with. And he was good at every kind of
weapon. Even unarmed, he was deadly. Not that I knew first hand. He got jumpier
as we walked past stall after stall. Eventually he stuck me in a small alleyway
in between buildings.
“Do not move. Not an inch from this
place. Do you understand? We’re being followed.” He whispered at me. His body
was covering my view of the market, but I was also the one covered. I nodded at
him and he kissed me on the forehead. Maybe he knew what was going to happen.
He must have seen the slavers targeting him specifically. Because as soon as he
stepped out of the alley, a group converged on him. He didn’t put up as much of
a fight as maybe he should have. He didn’t put up much of a fight at all. I
started crying as soon as I understood. Mathew had been taken.
I sat eventually and stopped
crying. All I could do was stare dimly at the spot as a place inside me
hardened. I would have to do something soon. I would have to act. But I needed
to let every hurt out first, so I could concentrate. Many people passed my
hiding place without noticing me. I’m not sure how you miss a girl in a bright
red dress, but it happened. The thieves saw me at least. They recognized me
too. The whole system knew I was not to be touched. So when they saw me in that
alleyway, I knew they’d be calling someone from Typhoon to come and collect me
quick. Before anyone official noticed me.
But I noticed someone too. That
Sarian girl who ran the ritual. She passed by with two men, armed to the teeth.
She walked with the confidence of a goddess even with those men (who looked
like slavers) at her back.
“I must get him back. I must save
him” I said to myself. I couldn’t be sure how much time had passed since the
first thief had seen me, but it was likely that someone would be here any
minute to collect me.
“Aye, lass. Tha’ yeh must.”
Rashati
I looked out toward the west, over
the water, to where I knew, somewhere, my “homeland” lay. I had never been
there, but that was unimportant. The other people here didn’t understand that I
too was Randian by birth. All they saw was my Sarian heritage through my bright
green eyes and dusty brown skin. But that was okay. I was Sarian.
My parents had emigrated from Saria
19 years ago. That was before the civil war started. Sweet peaceful Saria was
taken under military control. At least, that’s the way my parents tell it. It’s
true that there was a coup and a dictator now controls Saria, but it wasn’t as
peaceful as my parents like to believe. We’re part of the Temple Keepers. The
religious leaders. The highest caste in our country. Even here, we’re a very
respected family. They never saw the bad in Saria.
There aren’t many Sarians who escaped
before the war closed the boarders, but those who did come every week to my
temple service, even though I’m not a full priestess. Even Randians come. They
don’t really understand our religion, but they understand the basics of our
goddess.
To become a full priestess, one
must go on a pilgrimage to see all the ancient temples in Saria. My parents
believe that one must make their own way there in their own time for the
pilgrimage to have meaning. That’s why I’m on the docks today. Directly after
this morning’s service I decided that it has to be today. I believe it to be a
divine calling. So, still in my temple dress, I walked down to the docks.
In the corner of my eye, I saw a
big man being forcibly taken onto a slave ship called the Rash Lionna. That meant
the ruthless lion in Sardi. Meaning the Slavers were Sarian and probably
dropping cargo at one of the big city ports there. I didn’t know how long they
would stay in port or if they would agree to take me, but I had to try.
I went up to a man who looked to be
the captain based upon the red armband he wore. Red is a leader’s color in
Sarian culture.
“Good afternoon,” I said in the
temple keeper’s dialect of Sardi. As the only daughter of a high priestess, I
knew every dialect of Sardi, their cultural significance, and the laws and
rules that members of each caste must follow as well as cultural and religious
history and ceremonies of all sorts. Unfortunately, as a priestess in training,
I was not allowed to learn the fighting arts. If these men no longer followed
the goddess and the caste rules I would be in trouble. But they did. They all
bowed to me.
“My lady,” the captain said. He was
using an old fishmonger’s dialect. He must have been a fisher before the war
broke out. “What brings you to these dangerous docks?”
“I must complete my pilgrimage to
fulfill my duty and take my place as a high priestess. I need to go ‘home’,” I
used the Sardi word for community and family to mean home. The temple keeper’s
children are not normally brought up with their families. Sons go into the
temple warrior legion; daughters go into the temple to study as priestesses, so
the community and indeed every Sarian person was family. In the Temple Keeper’s
dialect, family and community were synonymous with home and Saria. “I am asking
to accompany you to Saria on your ship.
A request from a priestess is very
difficult to deny, especially a high priestess- even one who has yet to
complete a pilgrimage. And order is impossible to deny. I didn’t want to order
these men if I did not have to. Better to allow them to agree.
“Of course, my lady.” The captain
bowed again. “Do you need anything else? We’re set to leave in an hour’s time.”
“I just need to get my equipment
from the temple-” before I could saw I would be back in time, the captain
interrupted me.
“My men will accompany you. They
will see you safely to and from the temple.” I bowed to him- a high honor to
the man and his crew.
“My thanks, captain.”
The equipment I would use for my
pilgrimage fit easily into saddle bags that one of the men slung over his
shoulder. In them, I had a generous amount of money, some easily kept food, and
the humble clothing required for the pilgrimage. I left a note for my Baba and
Gigi to say that I left on my pilgrimage. I left my service habit in my room
and donned the simple cotton dress- hardly more than a shift- that pilgrims
wore. As the official start of my journey, I must wear it. In my hand I carried
an ebony rod topped with the symbol of the goddess in gold. It was the only
weapon I was allowed as a woman. And it wasn’t really a weapon. It was used in
many religious ceremonies that I would be performing during my journey.
As I boarded the ship, I blessed
the journey and the passengers as is custom and I carved a protective symbol on
the masthead, a roaring lion. The symbol wasn’t custom but it felt necessary
with the dangerous trip. The passage to Saria was dangerous in normal times,
but during a war, it was doubly so.
The man who carried my saddle bags
introduced himself as Urqar before asking me to follow him.
“It’s a rough journey, my lady.
Best you stay in your quarters most of the time. If you wish to go to any part
of the ship I will gladly accompany you.” He spoke with a northern dialect. A
woodworker, then. I bet he’d fixed the entire ship many times over. I nodded my
assent and he continued. “Tornin and me will be will your personal escorts and
guard throughout the trip. It’s mostly Sarian workers here, but some’s so young
they don’t understand the duties required to a lady of your status. And some
here are Randian. All they see in you is a girl to be used, pardon my saying
so.”
When we got to my quarters he set
my bags down on the well-made cot and exited to stand just outside the door. I
bowed deeply in thanks to him and he shut the door for me.
The ship soon departed and I knew I
wouldn’t be needed for some time, so I settled in to “commune with the
goddess”. Not literally, of course. Only fully fledged high priestesses can
truly commune with the goddess. But it was practice.
Hours later I was woken by a knock
on my door. Urqar opened the door at my allowance. He spoke in Randian now as
crew members all do. “Dinner is ready, my lady, if you care for it. Some get
sick out here in the waves.”
“Thank you, Urqar.” I said. I stood
up, a little wobbly on the waves, but I soon got used to the rocking.
Over the month of the trip, I got
to know all of the men. And many of the slaves. I was allowed to hold service
in the cargo hold for the slaves as well as hold one for the crew members. Many
of the slaves found comfort in the goddess of the land they were to be sold
into and I started teaching them the slave dialect of Sardi.
There was one man in particular I
remembered. He was the one they were dragging onto the ship when I first
noticed it was Sarian. His name was Mathew.
He told me of his life. Of the Sarian pirate raid that killed his family
and the council that sent him to Kliq orphanage. How he met Danya. And his life
with her and Typhoon. And I resolved to buy him and get him back to Rand by any
means necessary.
Just before we set in to port, I
went to find the captain.
“Captain Karn,” I greeted him in
Sardi with a bow. He bowed back and I continued. “I don’t mean to deplete your
stock, but I require a guardian for my pilgrimage. I’m sure you understand.”
He didn’t look pleased, and didn’t
answer.
“I’m quite willing to pay for him,
you see.” He seemed a bit happier at that but a bit more confused.
“Pay? You aren’t wanting Urqar?” he
asked.
“Oh no. I would never take a crew
member. Not when every hand is needed on this ship.”
He bowed deeply to me. “Thank you
my lady. Which one were you wanting then?” he escorted me down to the cargo
hold and I pointed Mathew out. All the slaves were perked up. They didn’t
understand really what was happening, as Sarian deals are all made in Sardi,
but they always liked when I came to visit. “That one? Are you sure?”
“Positive. I’ll give you 200 gold
for him.”
“Thank you my lady” he said in
Randian and bowed as we completed our deal.
As we put in to port Urqar pulled
Mathew up to my quarters.
“What’s going on, Rashati?” Mathew
asked. Urqar cuffed Mathew across the head.
“Show some respect to your new
mistress, boy!” Urqar spat.
“It’s quite alright Urqar.” I
assured him. “He’s to be my guardian after all.”
Mathew looked confused.
“But my lady, it isn’t right. He
isn’t Sarian. He’s not even a free man!”
“Urqar,” I said softly, “You know I
couldn’t pick you.”
Urqar looked at me, nodded slowly
and then bowed deeply. He left quickly after that. And Mathew just looked at
me.
“So… mistress? I’m not real good
with authority you know.” Mat was speaking in an urban slang from the slums of
the capitol city. He probably thought I was Sarian through and through. Even
though we had come to Saria from the same port. He wanted to confuse me. But I
answered in the same slang.
“Don’t think you can douse me just
cause I’m Sarian.” He just stared at me for a second.
“Okay,” he said finally, “I’m
listening.”
“Not here.” I said quietly. “After
we’re out of the city. Just stay with me and you won’t be killed… most likely.”
We got off the ship and immediately
went to a weapons shop. I outfitted Mathew with all the weapons he could carry
and use competently. Then I bought clothes for Mathew befitting a guardian of a
high priestess. And finally I bought food and horses. And we were out of the
city by nightfall.
Danya
I turned around, knife pulled at
the sound of the voice. But it was just Gallen so I put my weapon back away.
He’s one of the older men from Typhoon. He’s from the Norther moors so his
accent is kind of affected. He lost his only son a few years ago, before he
joined Typhoon. Gallen had been working really hard as a servant in a councilman’s
house. But servants hardly get paid anything. And his son Benj was slowly
starving to death. And in the end, there was nothing Gallen could do. Mathew
found him soon after Benj passed. He was a broken man without his son. But
Mathew brought him in and Gallen sort of adopted us, me and Mathew. After a
while, Gallen started to come back to himself. He saw that our work was really
helping the people. feeding the starving, just like Benj.
Gallen chuckled at me. “what are
yeh worried about in here lass? The on’y ones what see yeh are the ones as
look. And don’t nobody lookin here.”
I sighed. I was exasperated with
his talk already. he could speak council perfect Randian, but he likes to annoy
me so he doesn’t. that was when he noticed that something was actually wrong.
“What happened? Where’s Mathew?”
“They took him. Sarian Slavers.
They’re probably gone by now.” Gallen looked shocked for about a second, before
getting determined.
“Let’s go then. We need to get
you-” I interrupted before he could say home.
“I’m not going home Gallen. We have
to save Mathew.” It might be that Gallen knew how stubborn I could be when it
came to Mathew. It may have been that he saw Benj in Mathew’s good heart. Or
maybe it was something else. I don’t know. But I could see the argument crumple
in his face.
“What do you mean to do then?”
“We go to Saria and buy him or take
him back by force.”
“Okay. There are two problems with
that. 1. We don’t have enough money. Not for passage to Saria. Not for
purchasing of such an important slave. And 2. There are only the two of us on
this. We can’t risk the rest of Typhoon. They have work they need to continue
here.”
“Well what do you suggest?” as soon
as I said that, I regretted it. There was a mischievous twinkle in the man’s
eye.
“How’s your singing voice?”
A few hours later, I found myself
decked in jewels. I was also in the middle of the council market. This area of
the market housed the best wares of the best. The best pastries, cloth, fruit,
shoes. You name it; the best of it was here. And only the council was allowed
to purchase anything here. And there I was, about to put on the most
embarrassing show. Virtually sell myself to the council to get Mathew back.
“I cannot believe you talked me
into this.” I hissed at him. People were staring at me, thieves, merchants, and
councilmen. I was not good with staring.
“It’s the best way lass.”
As soon as I saw the first councilman, I
started singing. It was a lullaby the nuns used to sing to me. It was sweet and
sad. And lovely. So lovely. A whole pack of them gathered around to hear the
song. But one looked more interested than the rest. Fortunately he also looked
the richest. That could go one of two ways. He could spend every copper he gets
to lavish himself. Or he could just make the most money out of the group of
wolves surrounding me. I decided to take my chance and I focused the song on
him. And he fell in love… as much as a councilman can.
We were married quickly. I wanted
to waste no time. He was a putrid man. All oil and slime. I never even really
bothered to learn his name. I didn’t need to. But he had more gold than anyone
I’d ever seen. And I needed that gold. As soon as I could I put the charm on.
“Dearest,” I cringed inwardly while
I said the term, “I require a slave.” I spoke the request as if nothing I said
would ever be refused. Like I was the queen of Rand. And indeed it was like I
was.
“Whatever for, my love?”
“Why, to protect me of course.
While I’m out in the markets and visiting my friends.” I pouted prettily. He
couldn’t resist.
“But dear, we have guards for
that.” That was an argument against my idea that I had not thought about a did
not have a response to. So instead, I thought of the only thing I could do. I
started crying.
“My dear! My dear, what’s wrong?”
“I-it’s my brother. My most beloved
brother. I’m sorry for the deception. He was taken. I just found out. Slavers
captured him. I am certain he is on his way to death in Saria. He is not meant
for war!” I cried. I really put on the theatrics. I should have been a player.
He hugged me. The smell was
horrifying. Like crushed dreams and decaying flesh.
“Don’t worry, darling. We’ll get
him back. You can take Gallen and a company. Go to Saria. Find your brother and
bring him back. Don’t worry.”
I smirked at Gallen behind his back.
He gave me a thumbs up. We would get Mathew back. And then I could kill my
putrid “husband.”
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