Firewalk (20 page)

“Folks are to think that changes come with the ascension of a new High Lord and Lady, just as it’s always been,” Randon said patiently. “My father was opposed to the slave trade, but while Bregond was still our enemy he saw no need to apply drastic measures to stop it. Now, however, Bregond is our ally, and that alliance is fragile enough without the added strain of Bregondish citizens kept here as slaves. What troubles me most, though, is that the trade puts us in league with Sarkond; by providing a market for these slaves, we’re tacitly supporting them and encouraging their raids. It’s got to stop now. My advisers will make their recommendations, but you all have a closer view of the problem. I wanted to hear what you have to say.”

There was a moment of silence around the table as guildmasters and guildmistresses glanced uneasily at each other. At last Smithmaster Erinton spoke again.

“You mean all slaves, High Lord, or just the Bregonds?”

“All of them,” Randon said, glancing briefly at Kayli. “I don’t see how we could reasonably enforce the law otherwise. The question is how to implement a law that’s been on the books for years, but never really enforced. I want an immediate stop to the purchase and sale of slaves in Agrond, and I want the presently held slaves to be given justice, not tossed out penniless on the street or worse. What would you suggest?”

Ravena leaned forward.

“What you need,” she said slowly, “is a period of immunity from punishment, when slave owners can free their slaves, giving them enough money to make their way home—”

“They will not return to Bregond,” Kayli interrupted.

“—or get a start here,” Ravena finished, raising her eyebrows at Kayli’s statement.
“Then
have the guards begin enforcing the law vigorously.”

“Not enough,” Randon told her. “We’re not changing a law or writing a new one; we’re punishing a
crime.
The law against slavery was proclaimed nearly a decade ago. No matter that the guilty parties haven’t been punished; a murderer who hasn’t yet been caught is still a murderer. Kayli’s told me a little about how Bregond might handle the matter. Your period of immunity, though, Guildmistress, is a good idea. Kayli, can you make something of that?”

Kayli was surprised at Randon’s abrupt question, but after her discussion with him after Seba’s rescue, she had given the matter a good deal of thought and was able to answer promptly.

“If I were to decide,” she said carefully, “it would be thus: that any slave owners have a period of time—say one moon cycle—to free their slaves and give them money in reparation, as Guildmistress Ravena suggested. However, if the slave feels he has not been fairly compensated for his enslavement and his treatment thereafter, he may bring his owner before us in audience. And after that moon cycle, anyone found buying, selling, or owning an illegal slave in Agrond will himself be indentured. And any whose report of such a one leads to his capture will be well rewarded.”

“Harsh, but fair,” Randon said thoughtfully after a moment’s pause. “Slaves could extort a good sum from their masters under threat of bringing a case before the Bregondish High Lady, but that could be a fitting punishment. It’ll mean extra audiences, though.” He paused. “Guildmasters, Guildmistresses, I’d ask that each of the major guilds choose a representative to Join us in those audiences in an advisory role. Your people have most likely known or dealt in the past with most slave owners.”

Kayli sipped her wine quietly, wondering what Randon was doing. It was a daring move, to take such a step before he was confirmed as High Lord. Surely he would lose some of his support; the very fact that he had brought the matter up at this dinner indicated that the guilds might well be the worst offenders, the largest purchasers of slaves—of course they would be; slave labor was cheap, and slaves were not accorded the benefits and rights of guild members. Why, then, did Randon risk alienating the guilds, who were his staunchest supporters?

As Kayli looked down the table, however, many of the men and women nodded slowly, and she saw a cautious relief on several faces. Abruptly Kayli realized her mistake. These were commoners who had worked their way to a good position but who largely depended for their livelihood upon other commoners. The guilds fared best under a firm and orderly government, and would thrive in a country in which the law gave full justice even to slaves. Randon had made a subtle statement that he valued his responsibility as High Lord above his popularity with his friends, and by doing so, won only their respect.

Kayli was gratified by the warmth with which the men and women took their leave when dinner was concluded, and even more pleased by the numerous invitations she received to visit their guilds. Her joy was marred only by a gnawing ache in her stomach, likely caused by her anxiety, or perhaps the unaccustomed variety of vegetables and grains disagreed with her. Still, she was glad to return to her quarters with Randon when the guests had left, and put away her finery and jewels and ask Endra to fetch her a mug of minted water. Then she thought she could relax, but to her disgust she found her hands shaking. She clenched them resolutely and hid them in her lap.

“You surprised me with your choice of conversation,” she told Randon, sipping the minted water. “Will your advisers not resent that you consulted the guilds instead of them?”

“Doubtless they will.” Randon shrugged. “After what you said about them likely thinking me more easily influenced man Terralt, I thought it wise to show them otherwise. Besides, as I told our guests, I think they’re closest to the problem. The nobility, so far as I know, isn’t greatly involved with the slave trade. The mercantile houses won’t sully their reputations by dealing in Sarkondish captives, and the landed nobility won’t tarnish their names by buying them. Outland slaves are usually bought for menial work, and that means city businesses—the crafts and guilds, small inns and taverns and the like. The ministers are just too remote from the goings-on at that level of society. It’s one reason the trade has gone on as long as it has—because the nobility just don’t take any interest.”

“But you should have warned me,” Kayli told him. “I was hard-pressed to answer when you asked for my recommendation.”

“You did well enough, I’d say.” Randon smiled at her. “But to be truthful, I
wanted
you a little off balance.”

Kayli said nothing, swallowing her anger with her mint water. Neither rested easily in her aching stomach.

“You gave me a fiery speech yesterday,” Randon told her gently, “but that won’t go far in dealing with these people. If I’d told you last night what I was going to talk about, you’d have come up with even harsher penalties and a thousand arguments to justify them, and come to the table with your mind made up firmly. I wanted you to think on your feet, as it were,
after
you’d heard what the others had to say about it. And you made a wise recommendation.”

Kayli frowned and clenched her hands more firmly.

“You wrong me if you think me so inflexible,” she said a little more coolly than she meant to. “After our discussion yesterday I thought on what you had said, and the recommendations I made were the ones I had already planned to give you. I was surprised when you agreed.”

“Mmm. I’m sorry, then.” Randon reached across the table and stroked her arm. “I meant that as a gesture of trust, inviting your suggestion in front of my friends. I suppose sometimes I don’t know who I’m dealing with—my wise bride, or the High Lord of Bregond’s loyal daughter.”

“Well, as you wed both, you must deal with both,” Kayli said, her anger fading slightly. “Forgive me, too, my ill temper. So often I feel tested—by you, by others—that sometimes I question every word and deed. It is unfair of me.”

“Hah! There
is
mistrust in every word and gesture,” Randon said wryly. “But mostly it’s directed toward me, not you. However insulting you may find it, nobody expected much of you. As long as you bore my heirs and didn’t run screaming down the streets with a sword swinging, you’d do. But me—”

“Oh, we must stop this,” Kayli said crossly. “We both are whining with self-pity, and there is no excuse for it.” She was horrified by her words as soon as they had left her lips, and she stood, holding out her hand to Randon. “Oh, Randon, I—” Abruptly the room seemed to drop out from under her feet, and she grabbed desperately at the edge of the table, crying out involuntarily as sharp cramps doubled her over.

“Kayli!” Randon rose; Kayli only dimly felt his arms around her, guiding her to the bed. She retched helplessly, alarmed to see that the vomitus staining her pillow was red. A river of heat, of pain, ran through her veins—

And at the end of the river, silence.

Chapter Eight

Crash of thunder. Kayli forced open crusted eyelids. The room was dark but for the embers of the hearth fire. She rolled her head to the side; there was Randon in a chair beside the bed, his head down on his folded arms on the coverlet.

“Randon?” Kayli’s voice came out a harsh, weak croak, but Randon’s head jerked up as if he had been stabbed.

“Kayli. Thank the Bright Ones.” He took her hand, pressed it gently to a cheek rough with stubble. “Don’t move, Kayli. Don’t speak. Just be still until I get Stevann.”

Kayli was too weak and tired to do anything but obey. It seemed only a moment later that Stevann appeared at her bedside, Endra with him; had she fallen asleep again?

“Well, good evening, lady,” Stevann said cheerfully. “Or good morn, rather, as it’s nearly dawn. You had us all well frightened, I don’t mind saying. I’ll make you a bargain—if you can swallow another of my nasty brews, you can have all the broth and cream you want. No, don’t try to sit; let us do all the work for you.”

Randon’s arm was warm and strong under her head and shoulders, and Kayli dutifully swallowed another potion, choking a little at its sickly-sweet flavor. Then, thank the Flame, there was thick soup, rich with butter and cream, to banish the sweetness and soothe her sore throat.

“That’s better, isn’t it?” Stevann slid more pillows behind her head and shoulders so Kayli could look around her. ”How do you feel?”

“Tired.” It was a weary sigh. “My throat aches. And my vitals.”

“I’m not surprised.” Stevann laid his hand against her forehead, nodded, then felt the beat of her heart. “We thought we’d lost you, lady. You were poisoned with
arrabia”

Poisoned! The word brought only a dull surprise through her weariness. But what else could it have been? No disease could have struck so quickly.
Arrabia,
though—that was a Sarkondish poison, often fatal.

“You’re made of strong stuff, lady,” Stevann said more soberly. “But you can thank your midwife in part for your life. I didn’t know that mesinica root was used in Bregond to treat
arrabia
poisoning.”

“It wasn’t me, Brother Stevann,” Endra said forthrightly. “I’ve had no experience with poisons. You can thank Seba instead. Kayli, child, you’ve never seen the like. No doubt the border healing temples have seen Sarkondish poisons, and Seba learned of it there. The child was describing a plant I didn’t know, so I took her to those books from Lady Ynea, and she found it in a minute. We had riders combing the hedgerows by lantern light. Fortunately we found some.”

Kayli turned to Randon.

“Was anyone else poisoned?” she rasped.

Randon shook his head.

“Only you. I’ve racked my brain trying to remember what you ate, what I ate. But by the time I thought to send someone down to the kitchen, all the plates and cups were emptied and washed. There was some wine left in the pitcher we’d both drunk from, but we gave it to one of the dogs and it suffered no harm. All I can think is that the poison was put directly into your cup or plate. Stevann says
arrabia
is a slow poison—it could have been anytime during the meal.”

He hesitated, glancing at Stevann.

“I’ve already had the kitchen and serving staff questioned under truth spell, although I had to bring in a mage to do it—Stevann needed all his power for you. None of the staff were involved. Our guests—” A look of such pain crossed Randon’s face that Kayli squeezed his fingers as hard as she could. “I don’t know how any of them could have had the opportunity to do it. I don’t think any of them were ever alone with the food.” His voice was heavy. “And I don’t have enough evidence to justify questioning them under truth spell.”

“No!” Kayli started upright, then grimaced and fell back weakly, the strength running out of her like water from a leaky cup. “No,” she said as firmly as she could. “You must not. Promise me you will not do that.” Unless Randon believed there was a wholesale conspiracy among the heads of the guilds, and surely he could not believe that, even at worst some of their guests must be wholly innocent. If Randon antagonized them, he would lose the only powerful support he had. Surely he must understand that.

“Shhh.” Randon smoothed her forehead. “Don’t worry yourself. I’ll do nothing for now, if that’s what you want. I promise. But you must rest.”

Kayli was too weak and tired to do anything but obey, glad when Stevann and Endra left her and Randon alone. Randon stretched out on the bed beside her, sliding his fingers very gently along her arm as if he was afraid to touch her.

“It’s strange,” he murmured. “Until I thought I’d lose you, I didn’t really realize how I’d come to—to value you. And now you may be the only one I can trust.”

His words troubled Kayli profoundly, but she was too tired to answer, she could only smile at him as the last embers of her strength burned down into darkness.

The next day Kayli was a little stronger, the pain in her vitals less, and Endra sternly banished Randon from the room.

“She’ll mend in her own time and no sooner,” the midwife said firmly. “Meanwhile you look worse than your lady, and you’ve neglected your duties. And I would most respectfully suggest a bath and clean clothing, High Lord, before you sit in audience today. I’ll make certain nobody disturbs your lady’s rest, and not a drop or morsel will cross her lips but what Brother Stevann and I have approved. Now go.”