Wanderling (Spirit Seeker Book 1) (9 page)

Adala’s
first days as Burano’s prisoner passed agonizingly slowly. When she wasn’t
bored to tears reading aloud the histories of the massacre of all the mythical
beings in Sabria or the Iviannite Revolution, she was confined to her small
cell with no one to talk to except the stone walls. The guards didn’t engage
her in conversation, and they were usually too paranoid to even let her share
more than a sentence or two with Sarah, the girl who brought her food every day
and emptied the chamber pot. One night during the first week, a drunkard was
confined in the cell next to her to sleep off his inebriation. She tried to
engage him in conversation, but the guards banged on her door when she spoke.
Through a night of loud snoring that drifted from the next room over, Adala
tried again and again to work out an escape plan or a way to make Burano pay
for what he was doing to her and Shem.

It
was too soon to act on anything, even if she could dream of a viable escape plan.
Her body was bruised and aching from wounds sustained during her escape
attempt, and it would take some time to recover. So she comforted herself with
assurances that she would see Shem soon, and she would figure out a way to take
him home. Every night she set her ear against the wood grain of her door to
eavesdrop on the guards, hoping they would talk of her brother and she could
learn where he was being kept, but she gleaned nothing specific. From what
little tidbits she could gather, Shem was being held in a shanty.

It
was during one of her nights of plotting revenge that she heard the bolt of her
door unlatch from the outside. She jolted upright, startled by the disturbance.
Sarah had already brought in some cornmeal mush for supper, and Burano had never
summoned her at dusk before.

In
came Ollie, the portly drunk who had tried to keep her captive her first night
in the village. Adala stood back from the doorway uncertainly. She didn’t know
Ollie, but hadn’t judged him as a cruel man, despite the criminal’s brand on
his wrinkled brow. She tried to gauge his intentions as he swayed in the
doorway.

“This
kid is boring me to sleep, poor bastard. Come on out here and keep me awake for
my watch, girl.” He belched.

Adala
raised an eyebrow at him suspiciously and said, “I’m sorry, but I’m terribly
occupied in here. And having a wonderful time in my solitude. You should check
the tavern for female company.”

“Ollie,
leave her alone. You know our orders,” called an irritated voice behind him.

Ollie
laughed a deep, throaty laugh. “I’m not looking to warm your cot, woman.” He
turned to call over his shoulder, “She’s still in no condition to be any harm,
Tobin. Besides, I know you won’t say anything to Burano if she sits with us for
a little while.”

“What’s
the plan then?” Adala inquired.

“Just
come and share a drink. I haven’t had anyone interesting to talk to for
ages,
”
Ollie said, stepping aside for her to walk past.

“How’s
your nose?” she greeted Tobin, crossing her arms.

He
made a sound that could have been a short laugh, but Adala wasn’t sure.

“Come
sit with us,” Ollie said, kicking a stool next to the table. “We will teach you
to play a bit of cards.”

Her
instincts cried out in alarm that this situation must be a trap. It would be
just too easy to kick Tobin in the head and dart past Ollie to escape into the
night. She glanced at the door.

“Before
you think of escaping,” Tobin said, visibly following her gaze, “remember that
you will never be able to find your brother before somebody raises the alarm.”

She
gritted her teeth. “I suppose not. But you would know where he’s being held,
wouldn’t you?”

“I
see him around sometimes. In the mornings, they study maps together. That is,
before you go in to read fairy-tales in Burano’s office.”

Ollie
chuckled. “Does he really have you read myths to him? If he values
story-telling so much, I should be his chief officer!” He poured his
foul-smelling grog into a wooden mug and thrust it in Adala’s face. “Drink! We
will teach you how to bluff before our watch is up, young lady.”

“You’re
taking an awful risk just to have a partner to play cards,” Tobin snapped at
his companion.

“If
you were going to raise the alarm on me you already would have done it. Stop
being sour about it and join the game!” Ollie cried, taking a hearty swig from
his mug.

Adala
sipped the hideous concoction from her own mug and watched with mild interest
as Ollie dealt cards made of dried corn husks.

Tobin
sighed in defeat, his thick eyebrows furrowing with dissatisfaction, and picked
up his cards.

Ollie
dropped a handful of dried beans on the table next to her and said, “This is
what you bet with, milady. Let’s show you how to play One Eyed Ox.”

Adala
relaxed in her stool, observing her hand. “Please, I’m a sailor. I know how to
play One Eyed Ox.” She held in her hand two minotaur cards, scrawled messily on
the husk, a moon goddess, and a trout.

“Then
show us your bet,” Ollie said, slamming his down on the table.

She
selected nearly half her beans and pooled them into the center of the table,
and Tobin followed suit.

She
offered up the moon goddess as a trade card and picked up a trout from Tobin.
They raised their bets. In less than twenty seconds, she called a close to the
hand and had a mound of beans in her cache. She observed her opponents
carefully, thoughts of escape dormant in her mind. Her best strategy, she knew,
was to gain their trust for a while, at least until she could connect with her
brother.

She
bluffed her way to a win the next two hands, then Ollie managed a lucky win
before she dominated the game in a long winning streak. As they played, Ollie
boasted about his hands always, making it difficult for her to judge the
occasions when he actually had a good hand. Tobin was subdued, offering modest
bids and watching her movements carefully behind his brooding expression. She
ignored his suspicious gaze and focused on enjoying the game.

After
what Adala judged to be the first hour of play, Tobin began winning hands. All
of a sudden, he began matching her bets—raising them even. Almost every time she
bluffed, he matched her bets, and many times he raised the stakes. Before the
night was through, he had raked in all of the beans at the table.

Ollie
laughed as they rounded up their last hand. “What are you going to do with all
those beans, kid? You should go next door and clean out the drunkards in the
tavern.”

“I’ll
be cooking them for myself and my sister, thanks,” Tobin said, allowing a small
grin. “You two have provided us with food for a day or two. Many thanks.”

Adala
was surprised to see Tobin’s smile as Ollie slapped him on the shoulder. After
seeing him so stone-faced all night, she had thought it impossible for him to
look anything but unhappy. But when the edges of his mouth curled up despite
him, the creases between his dark brows disappeared and dimples appeared on
each cheek. His brown eyes looked warm and genuine, she thought, the way they
scrunched up when he smiled. If her instincts were correct, maybe he could be
persuaded into taking pity on her and revealing information about Shem’s whereabouts.

“What
is going on here?” growled a voice from the doorway, interrupting her thoughts.

Adala
looked up to see Jarod, the bulky man with a patchy blonde beard whom she had
stabbed in the hand back in Gerstadt. He stood in the doorway, glaring at her.
Beneath his rumpled hair, she caught sight of the R branded into his forehead.

“Just
an honest game of One Eyed Ox,” Tobin said carefully. Adala noticed him rest
his hand next to a knife at his hip.

She
dropped her cards on the table and feigned lightness in her voice. “Hardly an
honest game, Tobin. You robbed us blind!”

Ollie
chuckled. “True. We were just locking her up for the night, Jarod. No harm
done.”

The
man in the doorway strode forward and seized Adala by the hair.

Tobin
shot up, his stool clattering to the ground. “We can guide her to the cell.
Carry on with your business, Captain.”

Adala
winced as Jarod wrenched her hair tighter.

“Do
you remember me?” he said, face inches from hers. He touched her cheek with his
left hand, still bandaged from their fight in Gerstadt.

She
stared straight into his cold grey eyes, hatred welling inside her. “How could
I forget the reek of your breath?” she said. “You aren’t sour about the hand,
are you?”

He
released her hair to bring the back of his hand across her face. She felt the
sting on her skin, and the room spun around her as she slouched back, leaning
against the table. “It’s not just my bloodied hand, wench!” The man growled in
her ear. “You stabbed one of my men. A mortal wound, they’re telling me. I have
a right mind to pay you the same favor.”

“Let’s
not do anything rash,” she heard Tobin say. Adala looked up to see him stand
between them. “Remember our orders. She isn’t to be touched.”

Jarod
stared him down, sweat beading on his forehead where the R-shaped brand rested.
“She’s also not to be let out of her cell unless Burano calls for her. Did you
forget that one, you desert rat?”

Ollie
walked around Jarod and put his hands on Adala’s shoulders, steering her
towards her cell while the other two men stared at one another in a tense
silence. “I think we’ve had enough excitement for tonight, fair maid. One of
these days I will show you all my tricks in the art of gambling. You have a bit
of potential, I will grant you. Until then, I bid you goodnight.”

Adala
collapsed onto her cot and heard Ollie bolt her door from the outside. Her head
reeled from Jarod’s slap, even though it hadn’t been a full-force punch. “I’m
not healing as fast as I’d like to think,” she muttered quietly to herself,
closing her eyes to listen for voices outside.

She
couldn’t quite make out the words, but a few angry phrases were exchanged,
followed by Jarod leaving the building. Tobin and Ollie remained quiet the rest
of the night.

When
morning came, Adala woke to the girl Sarah laying a cloth on her forehead.

She
sat up, and her head spun.

“Have
a drink,” Sarah said, “It should help you feel better. I just drew it up from
the well—the water should be cold.”

“Thanks,”
Adala murmured, drinking from Sarah’s flask.

“I
heard what happened last night,” the young girl said sorrowfully. “My brother
was very angry about what happened.”

“Tobin
is your brother?” Adala said, more of a statement than a question. She observed
the girl’s dark curls and features, rounded lips, and golden brown eyes, wondering
why she hadn’t realized before. “But you’re nothing like him. I mean, you’re a
decent human being.”

Sarah
scowled. “My brother’s far from perfect, but you shouldn’t judge so quickly.”
She took Adala’s hand and placed a slimy weed into it. “Now, chew on this for
breakfast. It will clear your head a little.”

“I
don’t know if the headache is from being struck by Jarod or from Ollie’s
moonshine,” Adala muttered.

Sarah
giggled and stood. “Chew on that herb, but don’t swallow it. Someone will come
and get you soon.”

“Is
Burano angry?”

Sarah
looked back from the doorway. “I don’t know,” she said, chewing her lip. “You
must stay brave.”

Adala
didn’t let herself grow uneasy. She couldn’t be blamed for her own guards’
negligence, especially when she had behaved herself throughout the whole thing,
even restraining herself from fighting Jarod, which hadn’t been easy.

As
a pair of guards came and escorted her to Burano’s office, she prepared a few
smart remarks for him regarding her exemplary behavior as a prisoner. She
thought Burano would appreciate them. As conniving as he was, she judged him as
no stranger to wit.

“Take
a seat,” Burano said when she arrived. Instead of her usual perch on the dirt
next to a crate, he offered her a chair opposite him at his desk. “We have much
to discuss, Adala.”

They
sat across from each other, and he dismissed the guards.

“It
sounds like you had a wild night,” Burano said, stroking the grey streak in his
beard.

“I’ve
had worse,” she said.

He
leaned back in his armed chair and studied her face intently. “I’ve decided you
may join the men for your meal times. I see no reason to keep you confined to
that room while you recover from your wounds.”

Adala’s
jaw fell agape. “Excuse me?”

“You
have served me well in the last few days,” Burano admitted. “You will remain
under heavy guard, of course. But you will be allowed out of your cell for the
evening meal with the men, since drinking and gambling seem to be to your
taste. Who knows, maybe you will grow fond of our little community.”

She
snorted. “That’s funny.”

“I
am a reasonable man, Adala. Proper discipline and service always earn a just
reward in my town, and this is my reward to you.” He brought out a scroll from
his trunk. “Who knows? One day soon I may trust you to care for your brother
while you are both guests here.”

She
sat up straight at that thought, though she suspected he was simply waiving
that privilege in front of her nose to keep her docile. Still, more than
anything, she wished to be reunited with her brother.

“Do
you agree to take this new freedom without causing a stir?” Burano asked, eyes
narrow.

She
stared right back, saying, “As long as they don’t give me the treatment your
man Jarod did last night.”

He
nodded. “My men will be disciplined for their breach of protocol last night,
all three involved. I trust you won’t hold a grudge.”