The Rogue Knight Page 4

  “I vote for food,” Jace said. “We should spend most of our time on the Sambria side until Joe shows up. We can check his fountain every day, but I’d rather lay my head where I know my gear will work.”

  Down the cross street some distance, Cole noticed a man step out of a doorway. He wore a familiar wide-brimmed hat and a long, weathered duster. Not a young man, he looked as lean and tough as beef jerky. Cole would never forget that face. It was Ansel, the slave trader who had brought Cole’s friends to the Outskirts.

  CHAPTER

  4

  SLAVER

  For an instant, Cole could neither move nor breathe. Ansel was the man who had taken him captive, threatened him with a sickle, and chained him to the back of a slave wagon. He was cold, competent, and dangerous. And he was not yet looking Cole’s way.

  As Cole moved to step around the corner and out of sight, Ansel’s narrow eyes flicked in his direction. Perhaps the motion had drawn his glance. There was no way to be certain whether Ansel recognized him, but for a slight moment their gazes connected. With a sickening jolt of panic, Cole knew he had better assume the worst. Ansel wasn’t the type to miss much.

  “We need to split up now,” Cole said hurriedly. He didn’t want to leave the only friends he had with danger coming his way, but he knew it would be tricky to disappear into the crowd moving as a group. If they stayed together, they might all get captured. His friends didn’t deserve that risk. Besides, the others would have a better chance of helping him if they were free.

  “What?” Mira asked.

  Backing down the street, Cole gestured for the others to scatter. “The slaver who captured me is here. I think he saw me. He knows I shouldn’t be free. Let’s meet up on the Elloweer side by the fountain Joe talked about.”

  Twitch was already walking away into the crowd. Jace and Mira hesitated, but a shooing motion from Cole got them going. Cole soon lost sight of them. He was on his own. At least his friends had taken him seriously.

  If Ansel was running, he might already be near the corner. If he was walking quickly, Cole still only had a moment or two.

  Having already hustled some distance down the street, Cole stepped through the nearest door and into a large, busy eatery. It was mostly men inside. They sat on benches at long, wooden tables. Huge, skewered roasts rotated above fire pits. The air smelled of smoke, charred meat, and herbs. In spite of his current desperation, Cole’s hunger reacted to the rich aromas.

  Cole noticed windows on the far side of the room. Windows meant a yard or a street. He had no idea whether Ansel had seen him duck into the eatery. He hadn’t risked looking back, for fear of showing his face. But he knew he had to keep moving just in case.

  Running would attract attention, so Cole walked across the room as slowly as he dared, weaving around tables, trying to look casual. Nobody seemed to pay him any mind.

  Maybe Ansel wasn’t following him at all. The slaver might not have recognized him. Cole risked a backward glance. Nobody else had come into the establishment yet. If Ansel was in pursuit, he may not have seen him go in here. The crowded street outside should have provided decent cover.

  Even if Ansel caught up to him, what could the slaver do? According to the mark on his hand, Cole was free. But Ansel knew he should have a slavemark. The unlikely change could lead to dangerous questions at a time when Cole and his friends needed anonymity. Slaves or not, they were fugitives. The legion wanted all of them, especially Mira. Now that she had her shaping power back, the High Shaper would stop at nothing to find his daughter. Last night’s ambush was proof.

  Cole’s stomach churned. If Ansel caught him and investigated his freemark, his escape from Skyport would come to light, along with his connection to Mira. He’d not only be in trouble with Ansel, but with the High King too. He’d end up enslaved, imprisoned, or worse. And that would be the end of trying to find his lost friends and get home.

  On the far side of the room, beyond an interior wall, Cole found a door. Relief surged through him. He glanced back across the room just in time to see Ansel enter.

  The slaver’s eyes found him immediately. In that steady gaze, Cole saw suspicions confirmed, along with the wordless gloating of one who has uncovered the guilty secret of another. As Ansel calmly started his way, Cole darted out the doorway.

  The door led to a narrow alley paved with dark bricks. In one direction, the alley opened onto a busy street. In the other direction, the alley turned a corner. If he ran for the street, he could probably get lost in the crowd. But if Ansel doubled back and looped around, the slaver might be waiting for him by the time Cole got there.

  Cole ran away from the street, toward the bend in the alley, hoping it would lead someplace better. As he reached the corner, Cole heard the door open behind him.

  Around the corner the alley became narrower, with little puddles of grimy water where bricks were missing or had sunken. After no more than twenty paces the alleyway elbowed again. Beyond the next turn awaited a dead end. Sheer walls rose five stories high in all directions. There was a single recessed door on the left. Trying the handle, Cole found it locked.

  Footsteps approached. Not running, but walking with purpose.

  Trying to stay calm, Cole drew his Jumping Sword. At least there were no onlookers.

  He considered waiting for Ansel to round the corner, then jumping straight at him. It would be an all-or-nothing attack. What if the slaver dodged it? Cole had no desire to tangle with him in a fair fight.

  Even if he could kill Ansel, would it be right? Ansel was following him, which seemed menacing, but the slaver had made no threat, and taking slaves was legal in the Outskirts.

  Cole aimed the sword at the top of the left-hand wall and said “away” in an urgent whisper. He soared upward like a rocket, reached the top of the building at the apex of his flight, and landed gently. The flat roof had hatches for access, and nobody was up there. Hurrying away from the edge, Cole lost all view of the alley. He couldn’t be sure whether or not Ansel had witnessed his jump, but Cole felt certain that if he peeked down to check, Ansel would see him. He crouched in silence, aware of his rapid pulse.

  “I know you’re up there, Scarecrow,” said a parched voice from down below, not loudly, but loud enough. “Probably with a rendering you swiped from the Raiders. You’re in trouble, kid. The life of a slave ain’t no picnic, but the life of a runaway is much worse. At least be man enough to face me. What am I gonna do? Fly?”

  Cole hesitated. Ansel had just confirmed that he specifically recognized him. Could anything be gained by talking with the slaver, now that escape was in reach? Ansel thought Cole was a runaway. If Cole explained himself, was there a chance the slaver would leave him alone?

  Jenna came to mind. So did Dalton. Ansel might have information about where they had been sent. Was there any way he would cough up some details? Cole doubted he would get many opportunities to speak to somebody with direct knowledge of what had happened to his friends.

  Cole peered down to find Ansel looking up. He had a satchel over one shoulder, but his hands were empty. The slaver gave a nod. “That’s right. Nothing to prevent us from having some words. How’d you end up here, Scarecrow?”

  “Adam Jones let me go,” Cole said. “I’m free.”

  “You have your papers?”

  Cole had no such papers and didn’t want to show Ansel that his slavemark had been shaped into a freemark. That would only make the slaver more curious. “No papers. But you’re welcome to check with Mr. Jones. I didn’t run away.”

  “Hasn’t been many weeks since I sold you to the Raiders, Scarecrow. They free their own from time to time, but that takes years, not weeks. And they would give you proof of your freedom.”

  Adam Jones had helped Cole, Jace, Twitch, and Mira escape Skyport when the legion came looking for Mira. By issuing a command in code, he had his men slow down the legionnair
es while Cole and his friends got away. But if pressed, Cole figured Adam would call him a runaway in order to keep up appearances. “Why do you care?”

  Ansel turned his head and spat. “Have we been introduced? Slaves are my trade, Scarecrow. I’d turn in a runaway on principle, especially one I sold, and that’s ignoring the reward.”

  Cole knew he could end this conversation. He just needed to take off across the rooftops. But he didn’t relish the idea of Ansel scouring the town for him. If his fellow slavers were also in town, it could end up causing serious trouble. And what about Dalton and Jenna?

  Should he show Ansel the freemark? Would that evidence satisfy him? At this distance, Ansel might assume it was a trick. Even if the slaver could examine the legitimacy of the mark, the impossible change might only heighten his interest.

  Cole bit his lip. No matter what else he tried, he needed to fish for information about the other slaves. This man might have all the answers he needed!

  “What about my friends?” Cole asked. “Do you know where they ended up?”

  “We sold the lot of them,” Ansel said. “Are you still trying to rescue them? I can sometimes admire stubbornness. But not stupidity.”

  “Do you know where they went?”

  “All the deals go through me,” he said.

  “One of my friends is named Dalton. You remember him?”

  “You showed special interest in Dalton and another called Jenna,” Ansel said. “They both went to Junction. That was temporary. They’re long gone. They’ve been sent out across the five kingdoms by now.”

  Cole heard a creak behind him. Whirling, he saw a balding, beefy slaver coming up to the roof through a hatch. It was Ham, who had greeted him in the basement spook alley back in Arizona.

  For a moment, Cole stood frozen with surprise. If not for the faint sound of the hatch opening, he would have been blindsided and captured. Glowering, Ham rushed toward Cole. Pointing his sword to the roof across the alley, Cole gave the command and leaped across. The slaver dashed to the edge of the building, then eyed the gap, as if considering a jump.

  “Send him away or I’m gone!” Cole called, ready to make a longer leap.

  “Come back down, Ham,” Ansel growled.

  Ham retreated and disappeared down the hatch.

  “Now I see why you were so talkative,” Cole said.

  “I do what I can,” Ansel said. “Might as well come down too, Scarecrow. That sword may let you fly, but once I’m on your trail, it’s only a matter of time.”

  “Don’t bother,” Cole said. “I’m free.” He showed Ansel the back of his hand.

  Ansel frowned up at him for a long moment. Reaching into his satchel, he withdrew a spyglass. He held it up to an eye, focused briefly, then lowered it. “That looks pretty good from here. How’d you manage it?”

  “I told you, Adam Jones freed me. He had some guy he knew change the mark. That’s why I don’t have papers.” Though bending the truth, Cole was trying not to stray too far from what actually happened.

  “What guy?” Ansel challenged. “I’ve heard of some needle masters adjusting bondmarks after slaves are set free. But nobody can erase one and replace it with a freemark.”

  “This guy could,” Cole said.

  “Why would Adam Jones do a thing like that for a new slave?”

  “I saved some lives, including his.” This wasn’t exactly true either, but Cole was trying to stay in the same neighborhood as the truth. After all, he had saved Mira.

  “You’re a liar,” Ansel said. “There’s a lot more to this story.”

  “I’m free,” Cole said. “Leave me alone, or I’ll tell the authorities.”

  Now Ansel grinned. Even from five stories away, the expression made Cole want to run and hide. Ansel removed his sickle from his satchel. “The authorities? Tell you what, Scarecrow. I’m a man of my word. You come down here, let me have a look at that freemark, and I promise not to harm you. We’ll straighten things out between you, Adam Jones, and the authorities. If they agree that you’re free, I’ll pay you handsomely for the trouble. Run, and I’ll find you, hack off that hand with the phony mark, burn it, and drag you back to the Sky Raiders in chains. Choice is yours.”

  “How about option three?” Cole asked. “You already wrecked my life and the lives of my friends. How about you find some new slaves to pick on?”

  “Not gonna happen, Scarecrow.”

  “You might end up chasing me for years,” Cole said.

  “Not likely,” Ansel replied. “If so, I can afford it. The trick is living within your means. You stash away a little here, a little there. Go ahead, run off, and I’ll accept it as your admission of guilt.”

  “I don’t like you and I don’t trust you,” Cole said. “I’m leaving. You’ll never see me again. If you do, you better watch out.”

  Ansel gave a dry laugh. “You just threatened me! That makes you the only living person to have done so.”

  Several paces behind Cole, a door crashed open. Ham staggered through, breathing hard, face red, pate sweaty.

  “Away,” Cole said, and he sprang back across the alley. He glanced down at Ansel. “Really?”

  “I never agreed he wouldn’t come up the other building,” Ansel said.

  “Door at the top was locked,” Ham apologized.

  “Leave me alone,” Cole said. “I’m not running because I’m guilty. I’m running because you’re chasing me.”

  Without waiting for a response, Cole pointed his sword, gave the command, and jumped to a more distant rooftop a couple of stories higher than his current position. Two more hops, and he found himself near a major street. After some brief reconnaissance, Cole jumped down into an empty alleyway adjoining the street. Trying to shake the suspicion that he was being watched and followed, he exited the alley and joined the crowd.

  CHAPTER

  5

  EAST CARTHAGE

  As he made his way eastward through the streets of Carthage, Cole struggled to regain his composure. Without the Jumping Sword, Ansel would have nabbed him. Cole was unnervingly aware that he had almost become a slave again. It had been nice to pretend the freemark had ended that problem. But if Ansel cut off the hand with the freemark, what protection would he have?

  Cole tried to look casual and blend in, but he kept flexing the fingers of his marked hand. It wouldn’t stop shaking. He felt exposed. Should he have kept to the rooftops, using his Jumping Sword to put more distance between himself and Ansel? Or would that have only drawn more attention? Should he find a place to hide? Or would that just give Ansel time to catch up? Cole quickened his pace.

  Ham had shown up out of nowhere. How many more of Ansel’s people were already in pursuit? Cole strained to recall the different slavers from the caravan, watching for them in all directions.

  Twitch had been right about crowds. There were too many eyes. Sure, you gained some anonymity among the big groups of people. But if you were being hunted, you ran the risk of crossing paths with the wrong person.

  You also risked not seeing the people chasing you. In his imagination, Cole could almost feel the cool touch of steel as a wickedly sharp sickle slid across his throat from behind. He kept one hand near the Jumping Sword, ready to draw it and take off if needed, crowd or no crowd.

  Would Ansel really sever his hand? What kind of a world was this? Cole’s problems used to involve getting his homework done on time and coping with an annoying sister. Now he had enemies who wanted to chop him up and enslave him! The threat might have been a bluff to scare him into surrendering. But probably not. Cole had the shivery feeling that Ansel was capable of that much, and worse.

  He wasn’t sure whether to mesh with the crowds or avoid them. It all depended on how Ansel decided to search for him. The major streets seemed like the most obvious places to look, so Cole steered away from them. The smal
ler streets offered less cover, but he had a better chance of seeing trouble coming and jumping away without causing a scene.

  As Cole progressed from block to block, the buildings around him began to look dilapidated. Sagging roofs, weathered surfaces, broken windows, and boarded-up doors all caught his eye. The people wore shabbier clothes. Several eyed him and his sword. One man with a growth of graying stubble on his face openly sized up Cole as he walked by. Cole tried not to pay too much attention to the man, but he couldn’t help noticing when the stranger started following him.

  Cole tried to heed Jace’s advice. He needed to look like he belonged here. But he was young, he couldn’t hide his sword, and though somewhat soiled, his clothes were nice. He knew he stood out.

  At the next corner, Cole turned and moved along the cross street. He glanced back. The stubbly stranger still followed him, walking fast enough to shrink the distance between them. He saw Cole’s glance and raised a hand, palm cupped. “Spare a ringer or two?” he asked.

  Cole looked away. Taking out even a couple of ringers would reveal his stash. Cole imagined that if the people of this neighborhood knew how much cash he had on him, they would devour him like piranhas.

  “Sorry,” Cole said over his shoulder.

  The man broke into a shuffling jog. “Wait up, friend. Where are you heading?”

  “To the east side of town,” Cole replied, unsure whether he should break into a run.

  “East Carthage?” the man verified. “You took a bad turn, lad. This isn’t a safe part of the city. You need a guide, or you’re going to run into trouble.”

  Cole’s instincts warned that this man was the trouble. In a few more steps the man would catch up to him.

  Drawing his sword, Cole stopped and faced the stranger, even though the man was head and shoulders taller than him. “Back off,” he said, forcing his voice to sound firm. “I’m having a bad day.”

  The man raised both hands. “What’s this? Are you coming into my neighborhood and threatening me?”