Dragon Traders (5 page)

The woman whipped around and, Eddie had to give her credit, didn't flinch at Nate standing behind her. "It was. I saw him come in yesterday, so you can't tell me they weren't his."

"So wherever Katsu went, he didn't think he'd need an extra horse," Eddie muttered. She was rapidly revising her opinion. If Katsu
did
care for Ashe, surely he wouldn't have left. And if he hadn't left, if he'd done something
stupid
, surely he'd think Ashe would need his things after being rescued.

Instead, Katsu was gone, Ashe's things were here, and all she could think about was that no one really knew anything regarding the medic at all.

"Then it's all yours. We apologize for the inconvenience," Nate grumbled, and gestured to Eddie.

"But, Nate," she began, startled. "Ashe might want his stuff."

"I think he'd rather have his life. Let's go." This time, the order was perfectly clear.

After a moment's hesitation, Eddie handed the reins of Ashe's horse to the stable master and walked out. "Where now?"

Nate glanced down at a paper in his hand. Eddie looked over his forearm, leaning close to see. On the paper was a list of six shops: physikers and herbalists. "Now we go after the caravan," he said at last.

"What about Katsu?"

"Either he struck off on his own, in which case he won't need our help, or he's going after Ashe, in which case we'll catch up."

It made sense. Nate and Eddie shouldered their way toward the city gates, where the other eight mercenaries waited with their horses. It didn't take long to mount up and get directions; the city guards said a caravan had left through the east gate, headed toward the Diwegol border and, eventually, the coast.

Faster to go around the city than through it, with all the foot traffic they'd encounter. Nate led them away, urging his horse up into a ground-eating canter. The others followed suit.

***

It was the cessation of movement that woke him. Ashe's face hurt where the gag rubbed his cheeks. His wrists throbbed. Slowly, he opened his eyes.

The scene had changed. Still inside, but no longer lying on a metal slab, surrounded by metal bars. Now he lay on the floor of a rough wagon, surrounded by crates and boxes, hard beams arching overhead with oilcloth stretched across them. He moved experimentally, pausing when the scrape of metal against wood rolled out. When it settled and nothing else happened, he moved again. Again, the sound rolled out. Slowly, he turned. He could feel it against his neck, then. A metal collar, pressing against throat and tendons. A chain ran behind him, attaching to a heavy bolt in the side of the wagon -- the same sort of bolts the crates were attached to, to keep them from sliding.

The air was musty, the heat nearly suffocating. An experimental tug on his bonds sent waves of pain up his arms from skin raw and torn, and gave him no leeway whatsoever. He had no way of knowing how long they'd been traveling, but the soreness where he rested against the floor made him suspect hours.

Hours toward the border. Had they crossed it yet? He didn't know. It seemed likely.

Drugs pulled at his awareness, urging him to sink back into a stupor. It was easier than facing the world. No chance to escape here. Maybe, once they'd reached somewhere, he could tell his story. They'd have to take his gag off sometime.

Thief, the porter had said with such disgust, and he knew that was a story that would be gladly believed. How many thieves and convicts had tried to claim innocence? How many had been telling the truth?

Ashe's stomach sank. He tried to think of nothing, blocking out the world.

Light battered against his lids. Voices battered against his ears, and then the door in the back of the wagon screeched open. Ashe stared. People entered in silhouette: a small, lean man followed by a tall shape, backed by two hulking behemoths. Guards, those. They stayed at the doorway while the other two walked in, the taller stooping to keep from brushing the roof.

The smaller of the two was familiar, and wore iron manacles around both wrists, attached by a long chain.

Ashe's eyes widened. He struggled again, trying to speak through the gag, protest this new comer. Katsu couldn't be here. He
couldn't.

There was a flash of concern across Katsu's face, and then his mask of annoyance fell back into place. "Stop it," he said brusquely. "You're going to make things worse." He knelt, placing one hand on Ashe's chest, the other on his forehead. Ashe lay still, watching, hoping this wasn't really true.

Byron stood behind Katsu, leaning negligently against a crate. He seemed comfortable even in the cramped aisle between boxes.

"What did you give him?" Katsu asked sourly, hands shifting again. Metal scraped across wood and banged together as he moved.

"Just a sedative. Something to keep him calm."

"Of course," Katsu muttered. He took his hands away, crouching back on his heels as if he were entirely comfortable. "We have a deal, then?"

"Indeed." Byron picked up the chain that ran between Katsu's manacles, leaned over the wall, and attached them to the bolt Ashe was attached to. "If you untie him, you're responsible for him. I suggest you both keep quiet."

Mouth a pale line, Katsu nodded. He remained crouched, head slightly bowed as his gaze stayed steady on Ashe, until Byron was out of the wagon. The door closed, and Ashe heard a bolt slide home outside. As soon as they were locked in, Katsu reached up and started working on the knot in Ashe's gag.

Ashe would have been happy to rip it off, but Katsu had other ideas. Carefully, Katsu worked with it, tugging so gently on hair that had gotten wrapped up in cloth that Ashe almost couldn't feel it. Katsu peeled the material away, leaving only the ball stuffed in Ashe's mouth. Ashe gave a muffled yelp as the air hit his chafed skin, tears stinging his eyes. With the binding gone, he pushed at the gag with his tongue, spitting it out. His jaw ached, wedged open for so long, and it seared his lungs to take a breath.

Katsu rubbed carefully at Ashe's jaw muscle, dexterous fingers easing away the low pain.

"What are you
doing
here?" Ashe croaked at last, pulling away from Katsu's searching hands.

Katsu paused, lips still tight, and folded his hands in his lap. "I met Byron on the road and told him I'd go willingly if I could tend you. We're allowed together on our good behavior. Keep your voice down, or they'll separate us and we'll still be sold." His lip curled in a distasteful sneer on the last words, as if the very thought of being sold was so unbelievable as to be disdained.

"Katsu--" Ashe stopped, not knowing what to say. It had already been done; he could berate Katsu for being foolish, for throwing his life away, but it was already done. "Please tell me you're part of a bigger plan," he whispered.

Katsu's gaze shifted elsewhere. His hands remained still in his lap. "I'm sure the others are on their way."

"Sure because you all hatched a plan? Or sure because..." Ashe trailed off. Katsu still hadn't looked at him.

After a long beat of silence, Katsu spoke again. "We've crossed the border into Diwegol. The others won't have any legal recourse to free you -- us -- now. I doubt they'll be able to take the caravan. It's... well guarded. I thought, maybe if I was on the inside..." He lifted one hand, looked like he didn't know what to do with it, and set it back down. "I have a plan. If it'll work."

"Which is?"

Katsu looked vaguely uncomfortable. "Let's get the rest of you untied," he said, and Ashe's heart sank.

Katsu had never been vocal during any of the crew's plans. He sat in the shadows and listened, sometimes adding a derisive snort when he thought a plan was particularly stupid. But to Ashe's knowledge, he had little experience planning anything more than knocking out a dragon.

Katsu untied him in silence, starting with his ankles and moving up to his hands. That was a painful process; blood had dried, sticking the ropes in place on wounded skin. Katsu did what he could, licking his fingers and dabbing moisture onto the blood to liquefy it again before he gingerly pulled the ropes free.

With a hiss of pain, Ashe brought his hands to the front of his body, muscles protesting. His nerves fired, circulation returning in full and bringing with it stinging pain. Katsu rubbed Ashe's shoulders, his arms, working down to hands and fingers.

Katsu massaged silently, focusing on his movements. Everywhere he touched, the pain eased off a little more, and Ashe realized the last of the drug fog was starting to clear as well. Ashe watched Katsu, the lines of stress in an otherwise unlined face. Katsu was intent on his job. Ashe thought that just under the thin cloth of Katsu's tunic, there was a faint glow.

"You're doing that thing again," he whispered. "With your magic."

Katsu said nothing, but kept on doing it.

Ashe's mind cleared further, the ache he felt everywhere going away, the stiffness seeping out of his joints. Escape seemed far more possible as the pain went away.

"How are we going to get out of here?" Ashe asked. They were underway again; the rumble and bounce of the wagon on the dirt road was unmistakable. "What's your plan?"

Katsu dropped his hands, glancing at Ashe and then elsewhere. "There's a few horses and four or five guards who'll be getting ill soon. I think. Then..." He shrugged. "I thought we could do something."

"It'll slow us down," Ashe said doubtfully, wondering if that would be enough for Nate to find them and effect a rescue. He didn't see how.

"There's more," Katsu said quietly. "If you trust me."

Ashe hesitated. "I trust you," he said finally.

"It might not work. And you could die."

Ashe smiled, though the words set a chill in his lungs. "I risk death for every job we do. Risking it for freedom seems easy."

Katsu only looked at him for a long while, as if waiting for solemnity. Eventually, Ashe let his smile fall away, and nodded once. "I'll take the risk."

Katsu's lips pursed. He took a breath and nodded back, settling against a crate.

"That's it?" Ashe asked. "You're not going to tell me what comes next?"

Katsu thought about it for a long moment. Then, "Better I don't."

Ashe didn't quite know what to say to that. He shifted, crossing his legs in front of him. "Hard to trust when I don't know what's going on."

Katsu studied his own hands. "Your choice."

It wasn't really a choice, Ashe realized. They were over the border; Nate and the crew were too far away. Close enough to help if he were hurt, perhaps. Not close enough to save them. "All right," he said at last, and offered a weak smile. "I guess I'll trust you blind."

The news didn't seem to please Katsu. He nodded seriously, lost in his own thoughts. Finally, he glanced up at Ashe. With a deep breath, he relaxed, fussing with the chain that bound him to the wall, a look of intense dissatisfaction on his face. "If I'd known we weren't going to have any padding, I'd have brought your cloak, too."

Ashe made himself more comfortable, relieved to have Katsu and a plan -- even if he didn't know the details of it. . "Yeah. Damned thoughtless kidnappers."

It earned a small upward curve to Katsu's mouth.

***

It was only a short time later when the wagon lurched to a stop. Ashe and Katsu watched each other as voices rang outside. Hooves clopped, something banged.

"One of the horses went down," Katsu murmured.

Ashe watched him, wondering how he knew. What he'd done. What he was planning. "You have a strange sort of magic."

Katsu didn't respond. Ashe wasn't sure what he'd expected, but it wasn't the blank expression Katsu wore, as if purposely not hearing what Ashe said.

The wagon started again some time later, and faltered shortly thereafter. The third time they came to a stop, the door opened and Byron came striding in.

He spared a glance for Ashe, then dismissed him from the conversation, focusing instead on Katsu. "What have you done?"

Katsu stared up at him, unmoved by fear. He looked bored, as if all this were beneath him. "Spread a plague," he said at last.

Ashe stared at him. It was a ruse. It had to be a ruse.

And yet, Ashe didn't know what Katsu's plans were. All Ashe knew was that it might cost his life. He'd imagined being cut down trying to escape, not dying slowly from some sort of disease.

Byron was staring at Katsu the same way Ashe was, though horror and disbelief vied for dominance. Wordlessly, Byron turned and left the wagon.

"You're lying, right?" Ashe murmured. "You don't go around carrying plague."

Katsu pulled a small bag from a thong around his neck, opening it with blunt fingers. "Take this," he said, offering it to Ashe. "It'll help."

A few pinches of herbs sat within, crushed and smelling faintly of pepper. "Take how much?" Ashe asked. Something stopped his hand, a suspicion he didn't want. "Is this going to give me plague? Or -- whatever you're faking?"

Katsu hesitated, gaze on the bag. "You're going to get very ill," he said at last. His tone was carefully even, everything about him carefully still. "But no matter how sick you get, don't be afraid."

Hesitantly, trying not to listen to the part of him that screamed this was a bad idea, Ashe took a pinch. He looked once more at Katsu. "I'd rather be a slave than face certain death," he said warily.

Katsu still didn't meet his gaze. "You will be
very
ill, but this isn't certain death."

Ashe could have sworn the words,
Not if things go right,
hung in the air between them. How many times had he trusted Nate with a plan that, gone wrong, meant death for many of them? How many times had he trusted Nate even when they
knew
that some of them wouldn't make it? Soldiers, warriors, thieves, all signing on with a fearsome crew to steal or fight or guard, even go to war if the price was right.

Ashe put the herbal mixture on his tongue, worked up saliva, and swallowed.

Now Katsu was looking at him, tying the bag closed, putting it back in place. Katsu moved closer, and Ashe didn't move away. Katsu's hands were cool on his skin, fingers wrapping around the back of his neck, thumbs brushing his jaw. It was intimate and impersonal all at once. He closed his eyes, pretending for a moment Katsu cared enough to pet and touch and just hold, though Katsu never had. When he opened his eyes, Katsu was still focused, intent, as if reading something deep within Ashe's body.