The three returning vessels pulled into the sheltered harbor of the main island. Some of the gruff raiders chattered, eager to see their wives and husbands. One Norukai woman pointed to other distinctive serpent ships in the main harbor. “Look, Lars is back!” When she gnashed her teeth, her scarred jaw rippled.
With disgust, Bannon remembered Lars, one of the three Norukai captains that came to Ildakar to sell their slaves. Egged on by his supposed friends Amos, Jed, and Brock, Bannon had brawled with Lars and his companions. “Sweet Sea Mother, I’d like a chance to kill him. He’s the reason I was sentenced to the combat pits.”
Lila laughed. “I understand why you hate that man, boy, but think of the unexpected reward you received. If not for your foolish street fight, you would never have become my trainee. Now you are skilled enough to kill many Norukai.”
“I will put your training to good use, I promise,” Bannon said. “As soon as we get the chance.”
Looking up at the steep hills around the Bastion, he saw garden terraces from which hanging clumps of succulent weeds draped down the sheer rock. The Norukai picked out an existence on the windswept island, growing what they could while raiding for anything else they required.
When the three ships tied up to the pier, the raiders detached the slaves’ ankle chains, but kept their hands bound as they herded them off the ship. Grieve snarled, “Take them to the Bastion and add them to the workforce until they are broken.” He grimaced with his scarred lips. “Or killed.”
A woman with the physique of a bear marched toward them along the dock. Her treelike legs were bare except for boots that rose to her knees. She wore a leather skirt studded with brass knobs. A tight sharkskin wrap around her torso was strained to near the breaking point by her large breasts. Her square face was as lovely as a blacksmith’s anvil, and ropy red hair was tied in five long braids that hung like tentacles. When she opened her mouth to yell a greeting, she looked even more like a serpent. “King Grieve, I was tired of waiting for you.” Her voice was so loud that the chatter from the disembarking crew fell into a lull. “I am ready to be your lover again. Don’t miss your chance!”
The woman stepped up to Grieve as if she intended to collide with him. Some Norukai chuckled, but the king’s face was stormy. “Atta. I’ve given no thought to you since we departed.”
“I haven’t wasted time on you either,” Atta barked. “I have taken other lovers, but they were inadequate. When I saw your ships return, I decided to give you another chance.” She punched him hard on the shoulder as if it were a flirtation. When he punched her back and knocked her reeling, Atta just laughed.
Bannon recalled the name. In his many unwanted soliloquies, Chalk had rambled about someone named Atta. Now, Bannon whispered to Lila, “Once, Grieve was injured so badly that he had to miss a Norukai raid, and Atta mocked him for it. Grieve broke her jaw so that she had to remain behind too.”
“Ah, and that is how they became lovers,” Lila concluded. She seemed to think there was nothing unusual about that form of courtship.
Hearing Lila speak, Atta turned to sneer at her, regarding the lean morazeth as if she were a gutted fish in the market. “And who are you?” She scowled at the scant black leather garments Lila wore. “You think you can seduce my Grieve? He would break you.”
“If he tried, I would break something of his,” Lila said.
When the other Norukai snickered at the retort, the beefy woman smashed Lila on her already bruised face. Lila reeled, but managed to keep her feet. King Grieve used the distraction to stalk away down the pier, ignoring the woman. Atta huffed and strode after him.
Bannon and the slaves were marched away from the docks, dragged up steep paths until they reached the imposing stone foundation of the Bastion on the steep slopes. Their way was blocked by a low barred gate that led into the massive fortress. The iron bars swung open on creaking hinges to reveal a Norukai guard glowering at the slaves. “All of you will be taken to stations to help prepare the homecoming feast.”
With their hands bound in front of them, the rest of the slaves staggered behind Bannon and Lila into the dank, cold passageway. Chill winds and the damp of the sea rendered the corridor miserable. Water dripped from salt encrustations on the ceiling, and slimy algae made the floor slippery. Though her black leather covered little of her skin, Lila showed no sign of being uncomfortable, just razor sharp in her determination.
The guard led them along, ducking under the low ceiling. Other guards followed the line, shoving the slaves when they moved too slowly. They climbed twisting stairs and through passageways lit only by smoky torches.
Without any windows or sunlight, Bannon lost all sense of direction, but Lila silently marked and memorized every step. Finally they entered a cavernous, noisy chamber with fiery ovens, barrels of flour, large stone countertops, and gaunt workers preparing a huge meal. Fish roasted on grates over fires that roared into multiple chimneys. Fish stew simmered in large cauldrons.
The smells were as powerful as the clamor of the pots and pans. Bannon’s hunger increased like a sudden wildfire. For many days he’d had nothing to eat but fish guts and slop, and now the aroma of baking bread and charred fish made him weak-kneed.
“Food!” cried one of the captives behind him, extending his bound wrists in an attempt to grab a knot of bread left on a counter.
A veteran kitchen slave lashed out, “Stop! Don’t touch.” He lifted his left arm to show the stump of his wrist. “Or they’ll cut off your hand, then cook it and eat it as part of the feast.” The newcomers quailed even as they drooled at the bounty around them.
An old man limped up to greet the Norukai guard. “New slaves? How many?” His face was so wrinkled he looked like a raisin dried in the sun. His eyes roamed over the new group. “Ten. That’ll be helpful. King Grieve hasn’t replaced the Bastion staff in a long time.”
The guard merely grunted and tugged Bannon in front of the wrinkled old slave, glad to be rid of his charges. This seemed to be a demeaning activity to him.
The old man took a kitchen knife and sawed the ropes that bound Bannon’s wrists, then methodically lurched down the line, freeing the rest of the captives. He muttered to himself, “Twenty loaves of bread, three barrels of salted fish, five platters of pickled cliffweed, one for each table.” As he cut the bonds of one female slave, she collapsed, but the old man grabbed her bloody raw wrists and hauled her to her feet again. “No time for that! All of us have work to do. If King Grieve is disappointed in the feast, he’ll eat you instead.”
Bannon did not think it was an idle threat. The old man continued his muttering. “Salted fish, smoked fish, and fresh fish for the king.” He heaved a sigh. “Although the king hates fish. Doesn’t like goat either.” He addressed the new arrivals. “I am Emmett, and I’m here to help you—help you serve King Grieve. Most Bastion slaves do not last long, but I have been here for ten years, longer than any other captive. If you follow my instructions, I will see to it that you survive.”
“Why would
you do that?” Lila demanded.
“Because I need the help.” Emmett lowered his voice, though there was only one Norukai near the far entrance to the kitchen, a husky woman who looked bored and disappointed. He pulled the new arrivals together and whispered in a conspiratorial, urgent voice. “I will help you stay alive, but you must listen to me. If you cause trouble, the king will break your bones and set them wrong, just so you remember.” He looked down at his badly healed leg.
Lila flexed her fingers and frowned at her scabbed wrists. “My intent is to kill as many Norukai as possible. That’s why I let myself be captured. I’m going to free Bannon, then I will escape.” She looked at the other frightened slaves, thinking they were weak. “If you are useful, we may allow you all to join us when we leave here.”
Emmett quailed. “That isn’t how you stay alive! The Norukai will kill you. Trust me, I’ve seen it happen many times.”
“You have not seen me,” Lila said.
“Or me,” Bannon added. “She’s a morazeth, and I was trained in the combat pits of Ildakar. We may have a better chance than our predecessors.”
Emmett groaned, deeply saddened. “Then I can’t help you to stay alive.” Back to business, he snapped his head up so abruptly that his gray ponytail bounced. “Right now, there’s work to do here. Throw your lives away later, after the feast is over. No time to clean any of you up. No fresh clothes, but you—” He looked at Lila and her scant black leather outfit. “Yes, you in particular, I will give you an old, drab robe to cover yourself.”
She was insulted. “I am proud of my body. This garment marks me as a morazeth.”
“That garment marks you as an object of desire.” Emmett looked frantic. “Do you want to be passed from table to table in a banquet hall full of lusty Norukai men? And women?”
“They can try,” Lila said. “They will regret it.”
Bannon remembered the mangled would-be rapist aboard the serpent ships after Lila had been captured, but he didn’t want to test that again. He urged her, “Lila, it would be best not to call attention to yourself. Let’s choose our own time to fight. Not now.” Emmett brought forth a gray, tattered wool garment she could drape over herself, and Bannon pleaded with her. “Just wear it.”
