Aveladus : The Returning

Chapter 11

I know what will happen if I make the wrong choice. I must be strong; I must not take the power for myself.
For I have seen what will happen if I do.

...

After yet another miserably hot and sleepless night, Revy spent the following day with Vin, walking through the streets of The Wooden Barren. They kept their pace leisurely, pausing at various vendors' carts and popping into the occasional shop, but all the while tracing each step of their plan, going over every detail that they'd need to orchestrate perfectly.
From the fishermen along the docks, they learned that the rowboats tied to the piers belonged to nobody in particular, and that tomorrow's morning tide came in just after sunrise. Not advantageous, but better than midday.
From flirting with the sailers along the main street, Vin learned that every once in a while, Lucian covered the tab for all the hunters and pirates in his service, and the revelry lasted for days.
And from the half-drunk hunters languishing in an alley, Revy learned how many men guarded the slave ships, what manner of weapons they carried, and where the slaves were kept.
When four o'clock rolled around, Revy and Vin were standing aboard the ship Lucian had promised them, watching and counting as the slaves stumbled onto the wide deck. Ninety-three. Mostly men, most of them young. The women were a broader range of ages, and there were only a handful of children, just as Lucian had said.
"Do they meet your refined tastes?" Lucian asked as he approached.
"I thought you said there'd be more," she replied coldly, keeping her eyes upon the chained slaves.
"We had an even hundred, but seven died on the journey."
She bit back the anger that flared. Vin, knowing her far too well for her liking, cut in. "And how many can we expect to lose on the journey to Syphorite?" Her face was relatively neutral, though her bright blue eyes flashed with annoyance. Fine—she is a good liar.
Lucian ran a hand through his messy dark-brown hair. "Don't you two ever stop questioning? There's no way of predicting how many slaves you'll lose. Just keep them watered and fed."
A low growl slipped through her teeth, but Lucian was already walking to his group of guards. Revy and Vin followed him, observing as the last of the slaves were shoved onto the deck.
"Where are the slaves from yesterday?" Vin asked.
Lucian waved a hand. "Most are on that ship, and will leave tomorrow." He pointed to a nearby ship and ordered one of the slave drivers to start the inspection.
They waited until a few slaves had been looked over, offering remarks on how fit a slave was, where he'd fetch a good price in Syphorite. Each word tasted fouler than the last.
"Tonight," she said to the Bounty Hunter Lord, "you can guarantee that this ship's protected?" Lucian sighed loudly and nodded. "That watchtower across the bay," she pressed. "I assume that they'll also be responsible for monitoring this ship, too?"
"Yes," Lucian snapped. Revy opened her mouth, but he interrupted. "And before you ask, let me say that we change the watch just before dawn." So they'd have to target the morning watch instead, to avoid any alarm being raised at dawn—at high tide. Which was a slight hitch in her plan, but they could easily fix it.
"How many of the slaves speak our language?" she asked.
Lucian raised a brow. "Why?"
She could feel Vin tense beside her, but she shrugged. "It might add to their value."
Lucian studied her a bit too closely, then whirled to face a slave woman standing nearby. "Do you speak the common tongue?"
She looked this way and that, clutching her scraps of clothing to her—a mix of fur and wool undoubtedly worn to keep her warm in the frigid mountain passes of the White Fangs.
"Do you understand what I'm saying?" Lucian demanded. The woman lifted her shackled hands. Raw, red skin lay around the iron.
"I think the answer is no," Vin offered.
Lucian glared at her, then walked through the stables. "Can any of you speak the common tongue?" He repeated himself, and was about to turn back when a sharp-eyed young blonde Eyllwe girl—covered with cuts and bruises—stepped forward.
"I can," she said.
"That's it?" Lucian barked at the slaves. "No one else?" Revy approached the girl who had spoken, committing her face to memory. She recoiled at her mask and her cloak.
"Well, at least she might fetch a higher price," Revy said over her shoulder to Lucian. Vin summoned Lucian with a question about the mountain-woman in front of her, providing enough distraction. "What's your name?" Revy asked the slave.
"Freya." Her long, rough fingers trembled slightly. Her name sounded weirdly familiar to Revy.
Where have I heard this name before?
"You're fluent?"
She nodded. "My—my mother was from Bellhaven. My father was a merchant from Banjali. I grew up with both languages."
And even though she'd probably never worked a day in her life, she had battle scars and looked like someone immensely strong. Revy could sense it from the girl. How bizarre. How had she gotten caught up in this mess? The other slaves on the deck hung back, huddling together, even some of the larger men and women whose scars and bruises marked them as fighters—prisoners of war. Had they already seen enough of slavery to break them? For both her sake and theirs, she hoped not.
"Good," she said, and strode away.

Hours later, no one noticed—or if they did, they certainly didn't care—when two cloaked figures slipped into two rowboats and headed toward the slave ships hovering several hundred yards offshore. A few lanterns illuminated the behemoth vessels, but the moon was bright enough for Revy to easily make out the ship as she rowed toward it.
To her right, Vin rowed as quietly as she could to the other ship, where the slaves from yesterday were being held. Silence was their only hope and ally, though the town behind them was already in the midst of revelry.
Panting through her mask, Revy's arms contracted with each stroke. It wasn't the town she was worried about, but the solitary watchtower to her left. A fire burned in its jagged turret, faintly illuminating the catapults and the ancient chain across the narrow bay mouth. If they were to be caught, the first alarm would be sounded from there.
It might have been easier to escape now—take down the watch-tower, overpower the slave ships, and set sail—but the chain was only the first in a line of defenses. The smaller islands were nearly impossible to navigate at night, and at low tide... They'd get a few miles and run aground on a reef or a sandbank.
Revy drifted the last few feet to the ship and grasped the rung of a wooden ladder to keep the boat from thudding too hard against the hull.
They were better off at first light tomorrow, when the bounty hunters and the pirates would be too drunk or unconscious to notice, and when they had high tide on their side.
Vin flashed a compact mirror, indicating she'd made it to the other ship. Catching the light in her own mirror, she signaled her back, then flashed twice, indicating that she was ready.
A moment later, Vin returned the same signal. Revy took a long, steadying breath.
It was time.