The Blackguard (Book 2) (29 page)

A
lador glanced at Sordith’s back as he slipped out the front door, and shuddered slightly. He decided he didn’t want to know how Jon had made his point.

Chapter Twenty-Two

By the time, they’d arrived at the stables, laughing and joking as if under the influence, Sordith had arranged for the four wagons to be left by the gate just before sunrise tomorrow. They’d have to have the slaves freed just as the wagons arrived if they wanted to keep them safe. Sordith saluted the stone-faced Lerdenian guards that stood at the gate. Alador was relieved to find that they weren’t Blackguard – he couldn’t fathom how even half-Daezun could condone what happened here, nor did he want to kill his own brothers-in-arms.

“Good evening, fine sirs! We’ve come to buy a couple hours with a lass or two.” Sordith winked to the guards.

“Did you make prior arrangements, sir?” one of the guards asked imperiously.

“Surely the High Minister’s own nephew does not need an appointment to spend time with a comely lass. I assure you he is quite generous with his slips.” To make his point, Sordith palmed a slip into the man’s hands.

“The High Minister’s nephew?” The guardsman looked Alador over; Alador drew himself up fully and let the silver of his cloak glimmer in the evening light.

“I suppose Veaneth would be proud to have such a patron.” The guardsman nodded and the other opened the gate.

They entered breezily, and though they blustered like the drunken patrons of the upper tiers that all three had seen at one time or another, each of them had sharp eyes on their surroundings. The door was opened for them and they all stepped into a warm hall, where a beautiful woman with long, blonde hair came to take their cloaks. Her dress left little to imagine, her charms boldly displayed as she carefully hung the cloaks on pegs on the wall and then ushered them into a private parlor.

After she had closed the door, Sordith stepped up to the small bar.
 “Step one. Get in.” Sordith breathed out with a wink at the other two. “I wouldn’t drink anything here.” He surveyed the bar and beckoned them close, speaking his warning in whispers. “Often times, customers are drugged slightly so as to be convinced to spend more than they intended. We will need our wits sharp.” They looked about the room; Alador couldn’t help but feel like there were eyes on him.

Both mages nodded, and before either could respond a corpulent man with a balding head stepped into the room. “By the gods, it is true! The High Minister’s nephew himself. I assure you, milord, that all is in order.” The man bowed a few times and grabbed hold of Alador’s hands to lay a fleshy kiss on the back of it.

Alador snatched his hand away in disgust, the man’s hand had been cold and sweaty. He unconsciously wiped it off on his robe.  “I want a full tour so that I may report to my uncle, and then my two friends and I here will take three for the night. Separate rooms, of course,” he demanded, mimicking Luthian’s cold, hard voice.

“Any preferences m'lords?” Veaneth asked rubbing his hands together in anticipation. His face was greasy from too much food and his nose was red from other excesses.

All three answered at once. Alador and Sordith both snapped out female, Jon requested a male. Both Alador and Sordith looked at Jon simultaneously in surprise, but Jon’s face held its usual bland blankness.

“And race?” Veaneth asked, apparently not fazed by Jon’s response.

“I would like to spend some time with a full Daezun, as they never once let me in their circles,” Alador stated coldly. “I think I deserve to know what I have missed.” He crossed his arms as he stared at Veaneth.

“I don’t care,” Sordith paused with a grin and mimicked the feminine shape with his hands, “as long as she is comely.”

“Nor I,” Jon answered, staring in disgust at Sordith.

Veaneth nodded and gestured grandly towards the bar. “I will have those rooms prepared, and then I will return personally to give you the tour. Why don’t you all have a drink while you wait?”

Alador had hated this man the moment he laid eyes on him; Veaneth was the example of excess and greed, and his voice contained forced, whining subservience. Still, Alador said nothing, choosing instead to nod that the man’s offer was agreeable. Veaneth hurried off.

Jon looked at Alador. “Why did we not just kill him then?”

“We need to know how big this place is, and how many we’ll have to sneak out,” Alador pointed out. “The tour is necessary. I don’t want to blunder about trying to free people that might not want to leave, or people who’d prefer to sheathe their daggers in my gut.”

Sordith nodded. “Best to know what we’re up against.”

“Ah, that makes sense,” Jon answered simply.

It was not long before Veaneth returned and took them on a tour of the whole area. Now that he was closer, Alador noted that the man smelled of wine and
sour sweat. He was hard-pressed to walk along Veaneth and look properly impressed. He kept his hands clasped behind him as they walked. Keeping his horror at what was happening here was difficult for Alador, trying to look the part of assessing lord. The room where those soon to bear small ones were kept was easily the most appalling part of the tour; there must have been twenty or more pregnant woman there.

“I was under the assumption that those here were prisoners, but I see they are well cared for.” Alador looked to Veaneth for an explanation.

“The High Minister wants the children to hold gratitude to him for their care in childhood. We do all that we can to insure that those with magic are given the finest care.” Veaneth preened at the praise.

“I see. And those without magic?” He asked his chin rising slightly.

“We put those down,” Veaneth answered casually as he unlocked the door.

It was all that Alador could do to school the shock from his face before looking at Veaneth again. “I have it on good authority that many half-breeds do not come into their powers until they rise to adulthood. It seems premature to kill the children before they can be truly known. Explain.”

“Yes, that is true of those with the eyes. But those without, well, they never have gifts in magic,” Veaneth explained matter-of-factly. “We weed those out right at birth.” He spoke as casually as someone might discuss the planting season and not the murdering of babies just because of what color their eyes were. He opened the door.

This room had small ones of varying ages, all of which half-breeds. Although the door to the room had
been locked, at least the small ones inside seemed well cared for and fed. There were toys for the children and the rooms were clean.

Alador stopped for a moment, staring at the curious children that had stopped their play to examine their visitors. Every child had the eyes of the Lerdenians. Not a single child had the plain brown eyes of the full-blooded Daezun. Alador knew his own eyes were silver; Sordith’s behind him were copper. Faces flashed before him and of those with power, not a single one had the plain brown eyes. “Has there ever been any of power with the Daezun eyes?”

“Not that I have a record of,” Veaneth answered. “I was the one who brought this to the High Minister as a way to tell those who will come into power from those who will not.” He beamed proudly as he looked about, offering sweets to the children that had clustered about him.

Alador wanted to kill him right there. It took everything he had to stay his hand – he didn’t want the small ones to witness this foul creature’s death. “And what of the ones that reach the age of testing and don’t manifest?” Alador managed to keep his voice even, though with great difficulty. He glanced at Jon, but as usual, couldn’t read the man’s emotions.

“We plan to send them to the mines or the brothels. If they don’t come into power, well, they can be used for rebreeding. That latent talent is still in there. Anyone who has bred animals knows this; you weed out those with the qualities you don’t want and you rebreed those with the qualities you do.” Veaneth was quite proud of the children displayed before him. “Of course, this is the first batch so a bit of guesswork at the moment.”

Sordith walked up, intent on drawing focus from Alador’s hardening face; Alador was losing his ability to hide his disgust and rage. “And make a fair bit of extra slips in the process, eh Master Veaneth?” Sordith dug an elbow into the man’s fleshy side as if to tease and play, though the blow was much harder than usual for such a gesture.

Veaneth exhaled a rush of air at the elbow’s contact and, rubbing his side, moved off. “Yes, well there is no harm in earning a little extra for expenses and a few skills that maybe I wouldn’t have found otherwise,” he pointed out. When they were all out, he locked the door, and Alador noted which pocket he slipped that set of keys into.

“Now, to those rooms you ordered, shall we?” Veaneth lead them back upstairs.

As they walked up the stairs, Sordith dropped back beside Alador, using Jon as a buffer between them. “Rein in your temper or you will give us away,” he hissed.

Alador took a few deep breaths and nodded once they were back up into the main hall. “I am most impressed, Master Veaneth. Depending on the performance of your choices tonight, I assure you that my uncle will soon know the full range of my thoughts on this process.” His double-edged meaning was lost to the man who smiled with pleasure.

“Of course, milord. I have picked a special lady for you. She has a bit of spirit and a mouth to her, so if that bothers you…well, just leave her gagged or fill that mouth with other intentions.” Veaneth’s dark chuckle made his meaning clear, and Sordith laughed with him.

“I like this man. Knows the proper place for a woman – on her back and before my bidding.” Sordith clapped the man hard on the back once more.

Veaneth winced under the blow. Seeming to be in a hurry to get rid of the more affable but physical rogue, he hurried them down the hall to their appointed rooms, making sure Sordith’s was opened first. Jon’s was across the hall from both Sordith and Alador. He opened each door with a flourish, saving Alador’s for the last.

Alador entered his room as the door shut behind him. He pushed back the curtain between the door and the rest of the small room, and was appalled to see a young Daezun, not much older than Sofie, chained to the bed by all four limbs. She was naked and clearly displayed for him. He took a folded blanket and gently covered her as she glared at him.

“I’m not here to hurt you in any way. I’m going to take the gag out of your mouth so we can talk, but I need you to be quiet, understood?” Alador asked gently. He reached up after a moment and pulled the gag out of her mouth.

“You’re all filthy pigs! When I get loose, I’m going to kill every one of you!” the girl spat at him.

Alador sighed and put the gag back into her mouth forcibly. “All right. Let’s try this one more time, and if you can’t behave, then I’ll just have to leave you here like this. My name is Alador, and I’m here to help you escape – you and anyone else who wishes to go. However, if you continue to snarl and spit then I will leave you here till everyone else is gone and you are the last. Do you understand? Nod once.” Alador’s tone was firm, but gentle.

Very slowly, the woman nodded once. Alador smiled and removed the gag again, though he was more cautious this time. The girl didn’t curse or spit at him, but she did watch him with clear distrust. “What’s your name?” Alador asked softly.

“Tarea,” she answered. Her eyes looked over him. “Are you really going to get me out?” Alador could see the glimmer of hope amongst the doubt.

“Or die trying.” He grinned at Tarea, trying to put her at ease. “I’m hoping for ‘out’ over ‘dying,’ but I could use some help.” He looked around and saw a key to the chains that held her up on the wall. “If I let you go, are you still going to try to kill me?”

“Unless it’s some trick, then I won’t kill you. Touch me and I will rip a piece of you off and shove it where it doesn’t belong,” Tarea promised with hateful vehemence.

“Well, we can’t have that.” Alador laughed softly and moved to fetch the key. He decided he was safer starting at her feet; Tarea could probably do some serious damage through sheer hate alone if she were totally freed. He wondered if Jon or Sordith were having any luck with their ‘purchases’ for the night. Carefully, Alador freed her feet and then one hand. Tarea watched him warily as he moved around the bed to free the other. When she was free, she scooted back hard up against the headboard, holding the blanket tight around her. Alador looked about but saw no clothing. “Where are your clothes?” he asked softly, knowing that loud voices or sudden movement might set her off. She had that same hurt, betrayed look he’d seen in Mesiande’s eyes, and it was tearing him apart.

“The Master…” She spat at the mention of ‘Master,’ “says we don’t need clothes till we are filled with a small one.”

“How long have you been here?” Alador asked, making sure to give the bed a wide berth as he carefully poured a drink. He started to take a sip from it, but decided against it at the last moment – he remembered Sordith’s warning that the drinks might be spiked. Dulling the woman’s senses down, however, probably wouldn’t
hurt with as tense as she was, so he offered Tarea the glass instead.

She took the drink from him gratefully, staring into it for a moment before drinking deeply with obvious thirst. “I guess maybe three months,” Tarea answered after she’d finished. “I lost count of days ‘cause sometimes men only come for a couple hours.” Her hands began to shake as they held the goblet.

Rage tore through Alador. He wanted to kill the man right now. He wanted to move through the halls and rip out the throat of everyone that helped chain these women down. And men… If Jon had gotten what he asked for, then there was a man chained down in his quarters.  The men, to be forced to serve other men…” Alador shuddered at that thought, then realized that Tarea was watching his face, and forced himself back to the task at hand. “If I can get you out of the city and give you some slips, is there somewhere you can go?” She looked to be full-Daezun, so maybe she wasn’t an outcast.