Freedom's Gate Page 4

  He dragged me before his commander, who demanded that I identify my master. I told him I was no one’s slave, and bit the guard holding me. Attacking a guard was a terribly stupid thing to do; it could have gotten me killed. But Kyros stopped by the guard post just as the commander was deciding how to deal with me, and when I named my mother and told him where I lived, he told the guards that I was telling the truth and ordered them to let me go. Then he walked me back to my mother’s house: “To keep you from getting into any more trouble,” he said.

  He asked me how old I was, and some other questions about myself. I told him about my mother, my friends, how I didn’t want to grow up if it meant sitting inside all the time embroidering and trying to look pretty, like my mother. He listened sympathetically, and when we reached my mother’s house, he made her a proposition. I was clearly unsuited to the demure future my mother wanted for me; I was the terror of the neighborhood, regularly jumped the city wall to explore the desert hills beyond, and bit guards. But I would be suited quite well, he said, for a job working for him.

  “Doing what?” My mother’s hands had clenched her gown, listening to him. “She’s only eleven.”

  “She’s only eleven now. But she could begin to learn the skills she’ll need: riding, tracking, observing. In addition to the soldiers and officers in the garrison, I employ a number of people as assistants. They keep my books, or records of my meetings. They carry messages and return with observations. They find and return lost property.”

  “Why do you need assistants?” my mother asked. “How many officers report to you?”

  “Well, I prefer not to send out soldiers or officers on personal errands, first of all,” Kyros said. “And when I need to know what’s going on at a distant garrison, it’s nice to get this information from someone who works only for me.”

  “This sounds dangerous,” my mother muttered.

  It sounded exciting to me. I’m not sure if my mother would have refused Kyros anyway, but when she saw the look on my face, she gave in. I knocked on Kyros’s door the next morning and began my training.

  I didn’t knock on the door anymore when I reached Kyros’s compound; I strode in wearily, nodding absently at the elderly slave who watched the door. “Kyros was looking for you,” he said.

  “I was visiting my mother.”

  “He said he’d like you to come see him when you returned.”

  I nodded and headed to Kyros’s office. One of his other assistants, the one who kept his books and his schedule, leapt to his feet to tell Kyros that I had arrived. When I reached his office, Kyros stood behind his desk, waiting for me.

  “I heard you had another run-in with the gate guards,” he said. My eyes widened, and he added, “Myron told me, of course.” He shook his head. “I wish you’d bring problems like this to me; when the gate guards hassle one of my adjutants, it’s a problem for me as well as you. Really, Lauria, you can trust me.”

  “I do trust you,” I said.

  “I wish you’d trust me to know that this is a problem, and not tale-bearing.” There was another rustle from the secretary in the hall, and Alex and Thales, the two soldiers who’d hassled me on my way out to find Alibek, strode in, looking a little confused.

  “Names?” Kyros demanded.

  The two men mumbled their names. Kyros pointed at me and said, “Right. I want you to remember this woman’s face from now on. Lauria works for me. She carries my ring, she carries my scroll, and she carries a sword I gave her. If I hear again that you delayed her on an errand, I’ll have you reassigned somewhere even colder.” It was hard to imagine cold weather on a brilliant spring day like this one, but the winters were bitter, and by far the worst complaint among the soldiers who’d come up from Persia or Greece.

  “Am I very, very clear?” Kyros said.

  “Yes, sir.” The men spoke together.

  “Good. You can go.” We waited until they’d gone back out, then Kyros gestured for me to sit and offered me a honey cake. “I hope they won’t trouble you again.”

  I shook my head, my mouth full. When I could talk again, I said, “It’ll be some other set of soldiers who can’t tell me from a runaway slave.”

  “Well, if we have to haul the garrison in here two at a time, I’ll do it. But tell me next time!”

  “I will,” I said, and left with a light heart.

  I didn’t visit my mother again before I left. But I did take some time during my days of leisure to watch the slaves. I wanted to spend some time in the stables with Zhade anyway. I wouldn’t be able to take her with me, and that rankled; she was a beautiful bay mare with a flowing black mane and tail. Kyros had given her to me to train, and while she was a gentle horse that would let almost anyone ride her, she made it clear that she liked me best. The stable hands would take good care of her in my absence, but I wanted her coat to shine like polished brass before I left.

  I had concluded that it made the most sense to have me pose as a stable hand. I knew horses and had done all the skilled work at one time or another. The unskilled work, I thought, would be easy enough to do. But my mother’s words ate at me, and so I hid behind the currycomb and brushes and watched the stable hands at their work.

  Kyros kept a good-sized stable. He needed horses for himself and for his family; he had a white mare that his wife rode, and lovely little ponies for his younger children. Zhade was my horse; Myron also had a horse, as did Kyros’s other retainers, and there were spare mounts for use in need.

  There were ten stable hands altogether. The stables were overseen by an older male slave, a grizzled old man who was stooped and bad tempered. Of the remaining nine, most were boys or men, but there was one girl, about eleven years old, with short hair and a fleeting, nervous smile. The slaves moved quickly and very quietly; the girl, in particular, had a way of almost sliding right out of my sight. Most avoided my eyes, and after a while I thought I knew what my mother meant, about trying to disappear, though I wasn’t sure I could actually imitate it. Besides, even if I knew how slaves acted around me, that didn’t mean I knew how slaves acted around each other.

  Even if I go back to my mother, I thought, watching the stable girl carrying in buckets of water for the horses to drink, there’s too much to learn, and too little time. And I’m not as strong as the slaves, physically, at least not in the same ways. I don’t have the right muscles, I don’t have calluses in the right places, I wouldn’t be able to shovel horse shit like I’d shoveled it all my life. I’m going to have to tell Kyros I really can’t do this.

  I should have felt relief at that decision, but instead I felt foreboding. Kyros, I thought, would not accept I can’t do this as an answer. And neither would the sorceress.

  On the morning of the fourth day, I went early to see Kyros, and found Sophos already there. The sorceress, I was relieved to see, had not returned. Sophos was laughing at some joke when I entered, his hands splayed out against his knees. He had rings on all of his fingers except for his thumbs, and a heavy gold chain around his neck. Though technically he and Kyros were equals, he had only one spell-chain. His robes were crisp white cotton and he wore a small, colorful hat on the crown of his head. “Ah! This must be Lauria,” he said, quite enthusiastically, and looked me up and down as if I really were a slave girl he was purchasing.

  “Good morning, Kyros. Sophos.” I hesitated, then added, “Kyros, I was hoping to speak with you alone for a moment.”

  “That’s fine, Lauria,” he said, gesturing for me to pull up a chair. “Let’s just go over some logistics first.”

  “That’s just it.” I lowered my voice. “I really, really don’t think I can do this.”

  “I see.” Kyros shot Sophos a quick look, and Sophos nodded, stood up, and stepped out, his smile never wavering. “What’s wrong?” he asked when Sophos was gone.

  “I visited my mother, as you suggested. She . . . used to be a slave herself.” I felt terribly uncomfortable talking about this, though of course Kyros did know; I�
�d mentioned it before. And any freeborn Danibeki was descended from someone who’d been a slave—a grandparent, if not a parent. “She didn’t think I could pass; she said any slave looking at me would know that I wasn’t one of them. And so I’ve spent the last few days observing slaves, and I think my mother is right. I don’t think I can pull it off.”

  “Which slaves were you watching?” Kyros asked.

  “The stable hands,” I said. “I’d figured it would make the most sense to have me pose as a stable hand.”

  He broke into a smile and he leaned back in his chair, pouring a glass of tea and handing it to me. “Oh, Lauria. I truly don’t deserve a servant like you. You are so—here, take a honey cake.” He offered me a plate. “Take two. You, among all the people who offer me their service, never miss a thing. So many people would have spent the last four days sleeping, or drinking tea with their friends, or riding. You spent it observing, so that you could be the best, most believable slave you could possibly be. And now, of course, you’re convinced that you won’t measure up.

  “Well, first of all, you need to remember that the slaves at Sophos’s household will not be watching you in the way that you were watching my slaves these past few days. They will have other things to do, tasks and jobs, and while you will be a novelty, you won’t be their focus. And none are the trained observer that you are. They may know that something’s off about you, but it will never occur to them that you’re a free Danibeki who’s posing as a slave to run off and join the Alashi. And remember, it’s the Alashi that we need to fool, ultimately. Really, part of the point of having you pose as a slave is just what your mother pointed out—you don’t act like a slave, look like a slave. A few weeks pretending to be a slave in Sophos’s house will give you the chance to practice precisely those skills on people who don’t matter.

  “But in any case—well, here we get to the logistics. Why don’t I bring Sophos back in?” He got up to open the door; Sophos must have been standing about just outside, because he came right back, still wearing his ingratiating smile. Kyros poured more tea for Sophos and offered each of us another honey cake. “You’re quite right, Lauria, that you know far more about horses than you’d know about working in, say, a kitchen. The story will be that you were my stable hand, but you caught Sophos’s eye and he bought you for his harem.”

  “For his harem?”

  “No one would believe that I’d buy such a lovely young woman to work in my stables.” Sophos lifted his glass of tea in a brief toast; his eyes sparkled.

  “This will explain many of the apparent inconsistencies about you,” Kyros said. “You won’t be expected to know how to act as a harem slave, because you used to work in a stable. If he actually put you to work in his stable, you would be spotted fast as a fake of some kind—you simply don’t have the raw physical strength you’d get from hauling water and horse feed all day. But the harem slaves won’t know that. They’ll see that you’re strong, callused, and sunburned; you won’t be shoveling horse manure, so they won’t see that it’s not natural for you. Any strange behavior can probably be passed off as the result of having come from another city and another position.”

  My stomach hurt. “Just how far would this pretense go? I won’t have to sleep with Sophos or any of his guests, right?”

  Sophos laughed, though I’d addressed Kyros. “No one will lay a hand on you,” he said. “If anyone does, I’ll cut it off myself.” I found myself curiously unreassured. “It will be a little unusual for a harem slave to be totally off-limits. The story that will be circulated is that you’re a virgin, and that I’ve reserved the privilege of your blood for an honored guest who’s not expected for a few weeks.”

  I gripped my tea in one hand and knew that my cheeks were flaming. Sophos turned to Kyros. “I think she’ll do fine.”

  Kyros caught my eye and gave me a sympathetic look; I almost thought he understood, really understood, how very uncomfortable I was with all of this.

  “How long will I need to stay there?” I asked.

  “I think two weeks will be enough time,” Kyros said.

  “Plus the three days to ride back, of course,” Sophos said.

  I nodded. My mouth had gone very dry.

  “Go make sure Zhade is settled, take care of any other last-minute errands, and return to my office after dark,” Kyros said. “We’ll transfer you to Sophos’s entourage then.”

  Before visiting Zhade, I decided to visit the Temple of Athena. I wasn’t particularly devout, but I made occasional visits anyway, mostly out of a vague feeling that it couldn’t hurt and might even help. The temple was near the center of town, a newer building, very pretty. The street outside was crammed full of vendors selling honey and other items to offer up. Alexander’s Temple was around the corner, so I could hear the din of animals being sold for sacrifice quite close by. I bought a jar of honey and carried it in, laying it down in front of the altar.

  It was a busy afternoon, with other supplicants and worshippers going in and out. Most were female—men tended to worship Alexander. I paused to meditate for a few minutes and articulate my request. Let my mission be successful. No, best to be specific: Let me accomplish my mission and return in triumph. And then, my vague, nagging worry: Let me accomplish my mission and return alive and unhurt.

  As I gazed absently at the altar, I saw a sudden movement out of the corner of my eye and swung around to see an acolyte stomping on something. “Sorry,” she whispered apologetically when she saw that she’d disturbed me. “Spider.”

  I nodded. I could see why she was so disturbed. The Alashi worshipped Arachne, the spider-goddess, who had been cursed by Athena herself for her false pride in her weaving. They also worshipped Prometheus, the fire-bringer, but at least he didn’t send his avatars to creep into Alexander’s Temple . . . I tried to focus on the altar again, but my prayer was done; I went back out into the street.

  I spent the rest of the day with Zhade, first taking her out to the hills for a gallop, then bringing her back to the stable to feed and groom her. The stable girl was there, quietly grooming one of the ponies. She was even dirtier than usual, and she shrank even farther into the shadows when she realized that I was looking at her. I turned self-consciously back to Zhade.

  “Lauria!” It was Myron, coming in to get his own horse. “I heard a rumor you’d be leaving for a while.”

  “Yeah.” I looked up, resting my brush on Zhade, trying to make it clear that he’d interrupted me in the middle of something.

  But Myron just leaned back against a stable box, oblivious to my irritation. “So! Where’s the old man sending you?”

  “You’d better ask Kyros if you really want to know.” I wasn’t sure how much Myron knew about my mission, but I couldn’t imagine the details were public.

  “Oh, Lauria. You’re the best of all of us, you know?” He capped that with a patronizing laugh and went to get his horse. “I’m off to Daphnia with another message for that sorceress.”

  I forced a smile, trying to suppress the jealousy that rose in my throat. I’d enjoyed that last trip.

  “I’ll be glad to be back and done with that. Just between you and me, the Sisterhood makes me nervous. They always give you that look, like they’re toying with the idea of having their pet aeriko pick you up and dangle you upside down over a high balcony. It’s just to see us squirm, but still.”

  That wasn’t quite how I’d have described the sorceress’s dark-eyed stare, but I still knew what he meant. I bit my lip and turned my eyes back to Zhade. “Have a lovely trip, Myron.”

  “Bye, then! I’ll see you when I get back, or when you get back, or . . . sometime.” He laughed some more and led his horse out of the stable. As the door swung shut behind him, the stable girl appeared from the shadows again and silently continued grooming the pony.

  I returned to Kyros’s study just after sundown. Sophos had clothes for me to change into: a thin robe of sheer cotton, with a light cloak of gray wool to drape over it. S
andals for my feet. I sat down to pull my boots off, and the two men stepped out while I changed my clothes. Nights are cold in the desert, and the temperature was falling fast; I shivered in the sheer cotton and hugged the wool cloak close around me. When they returned, by lantern-light, Sophos and Kyros examined the effect.

  “I’ll have her cleaned up and prettied up back home,” Sophos said to Kyros. “If we’re claiming she used to work in the stables, there’s no reason she needs to look like a concubine now.”

  “True enough,” Kyros said. “As long as you think people will believe she might have caught your eye.”

  “Oh, that’s a given.” Sophos bowed slightly toward me before addressing Kyros again: “Your assistant really is quite attractive.”

  Kyros glanced at me and smiled a little ruefully at my expression. “Two weeks,” he said. “That’s all. Then you’ll be off to see the bandits.”

  “What if they won’t take me in?”

  “Then leave and come back here.”

  “Across the desert?”

  “You are the most resourceful person I’ve ever met, Lauria. If you can’t do it, no one can. Besides, I’ll send an aeriko to look in on you.”

  “But I’ll still be alone most of the time.”

  “Lauria.” Kyros’s voice was serious. “This isn’t like you. Normally you’re so pleased to go out on assignment.”

  Normally I didn’t have to pretend that I’d just been sold as a slave.

  “I have a lot of confidence that you can do this, Lauria,” Kyros added. “So does Ligeia, the sorceress you met the other day. But if you think we’re wrong, if you want to stay here, I won’t force you. Say the word, and I’ll send someone else.”

  I bit my lip, thinking of Myron. Myron couldn’t do this; he was Greek. I was the best one for the job. I might even be the only one for the job. “I’ll go,” I said, forcing resolve into my voice.