Shorn: Chapter 24

Chained to the wagon was a line of people, seven in all. They shuffled along with their heads down. Four of them were men, one of them old. Three were women. They had been ill-used. Their clothes were in shreds, revealing numerous cuts from the whip, some of them still bleeding. All had had their heads shaved. On their wrists and ankles were open wounds from the chains. Behind the slaves came two men on horseback, both armed and armored, with coiled whips in hand.

“Slavers,” Melda said, picking up Ren and moving closer to Shorn.

Shorn had never seen a slaver on this world before. Slavery was illegal in Qarath. Those few nearby kingdoms that still practiced it were forced by Rome to stop once he conquered them.

But he was very familiar with slavery. It was widely practiced on Themor. Slaves were taken from every planet they conquered. It was they who did the vast majority of the menial work on Themor. Shorn had never owned any. His father and grandfather had both been outspoken against it, but that was only part of the reason. Simply put, he found the idea of owning another person repugnant.

He and his wife had argued about it. She couldn’t understand why he was so opposed. It was a recurring issue with them.

The driver steered the wagon to an open area by the wall and parked. He climbed down and opened the door, which was painted with a large, staring eye.

Stepping out of the wagon was a bald, skinny man with a long neck and a curious bulge on the side of his head. He was dressed in a silken robe that left his arms bare. Around his neck was a heavy, golden torc.

He snapped his fingers and a very short man with heavily greased hair climbed down from the wagon. The short man hurried over and handed him a parchment.

The bald man looked at the gathered people, who were watching in silence. “I am Gereth Merks, Royal Slaver to King Menet of Merinoth.”

Dale stepped forward. “You can leave now. We’re not interested in buying any of your slaves. This is a free town.”

Marks chuckled. It was not a pleasant sound. His teeth were stained red. He spat out a chunk of reddish something, then took a tin from his pocket and replenished it.

“You misunderstand,” he said, shifting the herbs in his mouth so he could chew them. “I am not here to sell. I am looking for someone.” He unrolled the parchment and held it up. “I seek Moll, daughter of Hendrin the glassmaker. She has red hair and is quite young, no more than eighteen years of age.”

“Never heard of her,” Dale said without pause. “No doubt you’ll have more luck in the next town.”

“Is that so?” Merks slowly rolled the parchment up and handed it to his assistant. “That’s odd, because in Tidvale I was told that someone who fits her very description lives here.”

“That person was wrong,” Dale said flatly.

Merks nodded and spat. He stretched his neck and looked around. He started when his eyes fell on Shorn, though he hid it well. He moved back toward his wagon. “Sadly, that is all too often the case. Those I seek are quite wily. It is not an easy task, but an important one.” The tension in the crowd eased somewhat. It seemed he would leave.

He stopped with his hand on the door. “I will stay here tonight, though. The road wearies me, and it is late.”

“We don’t have an inn.”

“That’s okay. My bed goes everywhere with me. Perhaps some among you would be so kind as to put up my guards?”

No one spoke.

“Very well. They are used to hardship. It is not an easy life for them either. But we persevere.”

Jesup moved up beside Dale. He was holding his spear. “What’s her crime?”

“Debt. She owes more than five thousand gold degars to Lord Hirogoth.”

A gasp went up from the crowd. Five thousand gold degars was a massive sum, far more than the average person would earn in their lifetime.

“How does a child run up such a debt?” Jesup asked. “It seems impossible.”

“Alas, it would appear so. But the debt was accrued by her father. Who is now dead. By the laws of Merinoth, as his only surviving blood, the debt falls to her.”

“That’s not fair!” someone called out.

Merks shrugged. “I am simply following the laws. I do not make them.”

“It looks like following those laws is working out for you,” Jesup said through clenched teeth, gesturing at the fancy wagon, the guards. “There must be a lot of money in slaves.”

“I do well, it is true. But only because I am very, very good at my job. I am honored to pursue only the very worst of offenders.”

Jesup was gripping the spear so hard his hands were white. “Get out of here. You and your kind aren’t welcome in Sweetwater. Not even for one night.”

Merks was starting to reply when another rider came through the gate. He had a rope wrapped around his saddle horn. On the other end of that rope was Moll. She had blood on her face, and her clothes were torn and dirty, as if she’d been dragged. She spat and fought, but couldn’t untie the knot around her throat.

At her appearance, the crowd moved forward, angry murmurs arising from the townsfolk. The guards immediately drew their weapons and formed up around Merks.

“Before you do anything hasty,” Merks said, “you should know that I am here with a royal writ. Since it is unlikely you peasants know what that is, I will tell you.” He pulled out a badge that hung around his neck on a chain. “This, right here, means I am following the king’s direct orders. I am his personal representative. If I am harmed in any way, soldiers will come. They will burn your town, and those who survive will go to the slavers’ market.” He waved the badge at them. “Do you understand?”

Jesup and Dale exchanged looks. Dale shook his head. Jesup scowled and stomped off.

“Very wise,” Merks said. “Now call them off.”

“I can’t do that,” Dale said. “I don’t rule them. This is a free town.”

“Well, that’s a bother.” Merks waved his hands. “Go home. There’s nothing you can do. The prisoner will face judgment.”

Grumbling, the crowd began to disperse. Lysa appeared in the gate, red-faced and looking like she’d been running. She ran straight for her mother and wrapped her arms around her. She was still holding the bow Moll had given her, and the quiver was on her back.

“He dragged her away, Mama. Why? What did she do?”

“I’ll explain it later. Get in the wagon.” She looked at Shorn. “We have to do something.”

“We will. But not now. The first thing is to get all of you out of here.”

Pol came trotting up. “What’s happening?”

“I’ll tell you later. Where’s your brother?” Melda asked.

“He’s by that stall where the woman is selling pastries. She keeps yelling at him.”

“I’ll get him.” Shorn pushed his way through the dwindling crowd and found Kit right where his brother had said he’d be. He picked the boy up and left.

Soon, they were all in the wagon and heading out of town. They weren’t alone. The other farmers were hurriedly doing the same thing.

Shorn saw that Melda’s hands were shaking. He put a hand over hers and squeezed lightly. Lysa was crying. She crawled between the two of them.

“What happened? Why?” she kept saying.

Melda put an arm around her. “It’s okay. Everything’s going to be okay.”

Lysa turned tear-stained eyes on her. “How can you say that? Moll is chained up. What are they going to do to her?”

“They’re taking her back to Merinoth.”

“What did she do?”

“Her father had a lot of debt. Now it’s hers.”

“Debt?”

“He owed money.”

“But she has to pay?”

“Yes.”

“That’s not right!”

“I know, honey,” Melda said. “It’s one of the reasons your father and I left Merinoth.” She looked over at Shorn. “He had a debt too. A much smaller one, but one we couldn’t pay. They were going to enslave him. We had to leave. We had no choice.”

Lysa got a horrified look on her face. “Are they going to take you too?” Kit and Pol chimed in too. Ren, not understanding what was going on, started wailing.

“Hush,” Melda said, picking Ren up and rocking her. “No one is taking me away.”

“Shorn wouldn’t let them, would you, Shorn?” Kit said stoutly. “You’d snap them all in half like they were made of sticks.”

“No one is taking your mother,” Shorn rumbled.

That didn’t soothe Lysa for long. “Poor Moll. She was teaching me how to shoot a bow. We have to help her. I don’t want her to be a slave.”

“I don’t really know what a slave is,” Kit said.

Lysa turned to him. “It’s where someone owns you. They can do anything they want to you.”

Kit looked disturbed. “They own you?”

“Like you were a horse or a cow.”

“That sounds bad.”

“It is bad.”

“I don’t think anyone should be a slave.”

“Moll will not be a slave.” Melda said the words almost defiantly. She looked to Shorn for reassurance.

“We will come up with something,” he replied.

 

“What are we going to do?”

They were outside, Shorn sitting, Melda pacing. The children were in bed.

“You could…stop them, couldn’t you, Shorn?”

“Do you mean kill them?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know.”

“If I kill them, soldiers will come. It will be the end of Sweetwater.”

“I know.”

“If I rescue Moll, they will return to Sweetwater and take her again, unless she has already fled. Either way, they will kill people to make an example for others who think to do the same thing. It is what Themorians do.”

Melda slowed down and hung her head. “Is there really no hope for that poor girl?”

“I do not know about hope, but I do know we are not out of options. They will not travel quickly. The slaves are too weak. They will be easy to find. There are not very many guards. They are not needed since most people know the consequences for attacking them. These all present possibilities.”

Melda flopped down in her chair. “There has to be a way. Maybe you could free her during the night, make it look like she escaped on her own. She could come live here with us until they’ve stopped looking for her.”

“And leave the other slaves to their fate?”

Melda put a hand over her face. “No. They don’t deserve it any more than Moll does.” She sat up. “What if we made it look like bandits attacked the slaver? Maybe make it look like some of Bloodmane’s men attacked?”

“There would have to be tracks—enough of them—leading to their camp. But are some of his men still there?”

Melda slumped again. “There’s no way we could pull that off.”

“There are many ways this plan could fail.”

They sat there in silence for some time. Shorn stood up. “I am going to leave now. I want to get ahead of them on the road.”

Melda jumped up. “Did you come up with a plan?”

“No. But there is still time. If necessary, I will follow them until I get the chance I need.”

“Shouldn’t you get help? I’m sure Jesup would come. He hates those slavers.”

“I will not need him. Nor do I wish for the harm that would come to him if we fail.”

Shorn turned to leave, but Melda took hold of his arm. “I’m afraid, Shorn. What if something happens to you? We won’t even know. You’ll be all alone.”

“I have been alone most all of my life. Because of you and the children, I am not alone anymore, even when you are not there.”

(If you're interested in reading more of Shorn's story from the time before this current one, go check out Wreckers Gate. It's book one of Immortality and Chaos, the series where we first meet Shorn. I will warn you that he doesn't appear until book 2, though!)

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