The White Brand (The Eastern Slave Series Book 2) Read online

  THE WHITE BRAND

  Victor Poole

  Copyright © 2017 by Victor Poole

  All rights reserved.

  CONTENTS

  1 The Old Book

  2 The Offering

  3 Ajalia Plans Ahead

  4 Ajalia Meets Card

  5 The Mountain Quarries

  6 Talbos Near the Sea

  7 The Secret Journey

  8 The Scars

  9 The Journey to Talbos Begins

  10 Ajalia Bribes the Guard

  11 The Golden Lights

  12 Delmar's Affection Shows

  13 The Old Pain Resurfaces

  14 The Little Bird

  15 The City of Talbos

  16 Jerome and Bakroth

  17 On the Road

  18 Flight from Slavithe

  19 Lim's Secret Box

  20 Daniel and Nam

  21 The Arrival of the Thief Lord

  22 Calles Takes Three Girls

  23 Ajalia Arranges Her Household

  24 Delmar's Entanglement

  25 The Strange Weakness

  26 Into the Forest

  27 Blood and Pain

  28 Ajalia is Ill

  29 Delmar's Secret

  30 The Final Attack

  THE OLD BOOK

  The light of the fire was glinting against the leather of the cover as Ajalia lifted up the first page of the book, and laid it open against the torchlight. Inside of the book was a long series of letters; the first word was written in an old form of Slavithe; Ajalia could not read it.

  She closed the book with a snap, and put it under her arm. She walked quickly through the dark streets, and she tried to forget the images she had made, of herself learning magic, of a wonderful adventure opening up in front of her.

  She walked to the little house, and let herself in. One of the slaves was asleep on the ground floor near the door. He was wrapped in a heavy travelling cloak, and Ajalia stepped over him. He turned his face to her in the darkness.

  "It's me," she said in the Eastern tongue.

  "Philas was looking for you," the slave said, and nestled deeper into his makeshift bed.

  Ajalia shifted the slim leather book under her arm, and walked up the stairs. Lights were shining out from under a few of the doors. She went carefully past these until she reached the tiny room at the top. She went in, and shut the door behind her. A shard of bright moonlight was falling through the window, and Ajalia sat on the floor, and propped the book in her lap. She opened the book again, this time to a place in the middle, and moved the page into the light of the moon.

  Ajalia had studied the language of Slavithe in the East, but the letters on these pages were thicker and wilder than the ones she knew.

  She turned the page on her lap, and stared at the letters. Her eyes itched. She felt more disappointed than she wanted to admit. She began to turn the pages of the book over. Page after page of dense writing met her eyes. There were words clustered thickly on every page. She had hoped that there would be some paintings, as there had been in Delmar's books, but this book seemed to hold only writing in the old language that she could not read.

  Ajalia rubbed her fists against her eyes, and sighed. She closed the book, and lay it down on the stone floor. She stood up and stretched her fingers up against the low ceiling. She sat down on the stone floor, and turned the book over to look at the back cover. The leather was engraved with a detailed image of long snake with wings. The snake was flying through clouds of what seemed to be water and lightning. Ajalia studied this picture, and ran her fingers over the shapes in the leather.

  She opened the book, and studied the lining. The book had been bound with a rich brown leather that had a small grain, and the inside of the cover was lined with red cloth. Ajalia ran her fingers over this cloth, and felt a sharp rectangle beneath the fabric.

  She stood up, and carried the book to the window. She tilted the inside of the book against the light, and examined the fabric. She had been right; a shallow rectangle was hidden behind the fabric. Ajalia put her fingers around the edges of the fabric. A slit had been cut within the crease of the book; Ajalia put her fingers against this slit, and jostled the book to shake the rectangle free.

  The shape beneath the fabric moved a little. Ajalia shook the book firmly, and an edge of gold worked its way against her fingers.

  Ajalia heard footsteps coming up the stairs. She closed the book, and slipped it beneath the robes she had placed under a cover earlier. She stood up as the door opened, and Philas came in.

  "You disappeared," Philas said. He leaned against the doorframe and folded his arms.

  "I had business," Ajalia said.

  "I found out about the feast tomorrow," Philas said. "We've got to go and present ourselves at the square in front of the Thief Lord's house."

  "I knew that," Ajalia said.

  "But the ceremony is at first light," Philas said.

  "That's good to know," Ajalia admitted. She looked away from Philas.

  "Can we be friends?" Philas asked. Ajalia shrugged.

  "Can you stay sober?" she asked.

  "I don't think that's a fair thing to say," Philas said.

  "Did Lim find something to wear?" she asked. Philas nodded.

  "He made a deal with Saul," Philas said.

  "Good," Ajalia said.

  "Are you giving me the money now?" Philas asked.

  "That's a strange way to ask," Ajalia said.

  "You disappeared with all the money," Philas said.

  "The boy told me you wanted to steal my soul," Ajalia told Philas.

  Philas smiled at Ajalia.

  "He also said you were taking advantage of me, and that I would be in charge if I wasn't so nice," Ajalia said. "Do you think I'm nice, Philas?"

  "Were you with Delmar?" Philas asked.

  "I didn't think you'd remember his name," Ajalia said. "Also, he's got a horrible mother."

  "My mother is very nice," Philas said.

  "And you didn't answer my question," Ajalia said. "Goodnight," she added.

  "Give us a kiss," Philas said. Ajalia sighed. "It isn't the same, is it?" he asked with a smile, and Ajalia breathed in.

  "No," she said. "It is not the same."

  "Sorry," Philas said. Ajalia shrugged. "You aren't staying up here, are you?" he asked.

  "It's quiet," Ajalia said.

  "And there's nothing to sleep on," Philas pointed out.

  "I like the floor," Ajalia said.

  "And I like you," Philas said.

  "Just stop," she said.

  "Trade rooms with me," Philas said.

  "I need a figurehead," Ajalia told him. "I haven't got anyone else. You're going to have to stay in charge. I'm sorry about that."

  "It isn't that bad," Philas said. "Your boy's nicer to me."

  "I'm paying him for that," Ajalia said.

  "And now you're going to give me the store of money?" Philas reminded her, and she smiled at him.

  "No," she said.

  "I suppose everyone will starve," Philas remarked.

  "I guess they will," Ajalia agreed. Philas studied her closely.

  "Did something happen to you?" he asked.

  She shrugged. "One of my Slavithe servants died," she told him.

  "Was that Slavithe boy pestering you?" Philas asked. Ajalia could feel tendrils of warmth spreading out from Philas towards her.

  "He told me that I like him," Ajalia said, "and that you're poaching."

  Philas laughed. Ajalia did not laugh.

  "You didn't believe him," Philas said coaxingly.

  "I met him first," Ajalia said.
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  "You didn't meet him first," Philas said. "You knew me first."

  "Remember how you didn't like me until after I met Delmar?" Ajalia asked.

  "I've always liked you," Philas said.

  "Okay," Ajalia said.

  "You don't believe that," Philas told her. "I've been telling you that I liked you for years."

  "Yes," Ajalia said, "In horribly sad ways."

  "I was not horribly sad," Philas said.

  "You were horribly drunk," she reminded him. Philas sniffed.

  "I was coping with the lack of you in my life," he said.

  "Goodnight," Ajalia said.

  "Can I help you in the morning?" Philas asked.

  "Go away, Philas," Ajalia said.

  "I love you," Philas said.

  "Go to sleep, Philas," Ajalia said.

  Philas went out and closed the door behind him. He began to croon an old Eastern ballad about a rich man who pined after his young slave. Ajalia heard other slaves shouting through their doors at Philas. He sang louder, and she laughed.

  She lay down against the door, and pillowed her head upon her arms. The stone floor was clean, and cool against her cheek; she thought that Philas must have had the slaves cleaning the house. She told herself to wake up before daybreak, and watched the moonlight creep over the floor. When she slept, she dreamt that Philas and Delmar were each holding one of her hands, and were pulling her apart. She burst into flames, and each of them picked up a piece of her heart, and walked away.

  When the dawn was only just beginning to lighten the night sky, Ajalia woke up. Her heart was pounding, and a cold sweat was on her back. She sprang to her feet, and sighed. She stretched out her arms, and went down the stairs to forage in the kitchen.

  Someone had left a tray of bread and baked meats in a stone chest beneath the counter; the chest was cool and dry, and the bread had not hardened too much. Ajalia ate the bread. She went through the house to the room where the great paintings hung, and studied the largest paintings. She had not looked closely at them since they had been cleaned, and she could not see them clearly in the darkness. She could see a heavy white shape piercing through the center of one painting; another large painting was dark all over, but she could see little people painted in the corners. The little house was filled with shadow. Ajalia wandered up the stairs, and began to dress in the ceremonial robes of her master. She applied thin oil from a jar to her skin, and then began to paint the mask of her master's clan over her eyes.

  The leather book lay out in the open as she spread the orange cream over her cheeks, and her eyes went to the embossed brown cover. She remembered the slit in the lining, and the edge of gold that she had seen before Philas had interrupted her last night. Her fingers ached for the book, but when she had finished painting her face, she lay aside the creams and brushes and combed out her hair.

  Her hair was dark and soft from the dyes she had put through it, and the sharp bang fell over her cheek bones. She had trimmed her hair in the desert, before the caravan had reached Slavithe, and she rubbed another oil through her black locks now. The oil made her hair shine and hang straight over the vibrant colors of her master's elaborate robe. She put Lim's gold ring on her thumb, and pressed thin flakes of gold into her eyebrows, and beneath her eyes.

  Ajalia had not worn her master's beard in Slavithe yet, but she thought that the Feast of Beautiful Things would be a suitable occasion to reveal her master's image in its full glory. She went down the stairs, and banged on the doors as she passed them.

  "It's daybreak," she shouted in Slavithe. "We're going out."

  Ajalia's master's orange and black robes rustled heavily on the stone steps as she descended. When she reached the door where Lim had hidden himself, she banged harder.

  "Lim and Yelin," she shouted, "prepare yourselves." Ajalia came to the bottom of the stairs and found Philas waiting for her. He had a pouch in his hands. He handed it to her, and went up the stairs. Ajalia heard him opening doors, and talking to the slaves in the Eastern tongue. She had told the slaves to speak Slavithe while they were here, but she did not think that any of them had made an effort to learn. She opened the pouch Philas had given her, and took out the woven length of hair.

  Her master's beard was made of pure black silk; it had been crimped with an iron, and was wrapped in soft cloth. Ajalia took a jar of sticky ointment out of the pouch, and applied it gently to her jaw. She pressed the silk beard to one corner of her jaw, and worked it around her chin and over her upper lip.

  "You're handsome," Chad said.

  "What do you want?" Ajalia asked without turning. She put her fingers over the last part of the silk beard, and applied it under her ear. She looked around. Chad was leaning through the open window on the ground floor; the light was growing, and Ajalia could see him clearly.

  "I'm going to take you to the Feast of Beautiful Things," Chad said.

  "I know where the Thief Lord lives," Ajalia said. Chad's face turned sour.

  "Why," he said, "do you know everything about my city? It isn't fair. How am I supposed to be helpful?"

  "It is the Thief Lord's house," Ajalia pointed out. She turned, and Chad whistled.

  "You look like a man," he said.

  "Thank you," Ajalia said. She took a narrow vial of gold powder from the leather pouch, and shook it gently over the black silk. The black shining fibers caught the gold powder, and took on an unearthly shimmer.

  "Are you supposed to look like someone?" Chad asked.

  "Are you going to come in?" Ajalia asked.

  "No," Chad said. "There's a crowd out here."

  "Really?" Ajalia asked. She went to the window, and craned around the edge to see out without being seen. A large number of Slavithe people, all wearing uniform gray cloaks, were gathered in the street, their eyes turned towards the little house. The closest cloaked figures were several feet back from the house; each of the cloaked persons carried a long candle of colored wax. The tapers were unlit.

  "What do they want?" Ajalia asked.

  "They want to see the offering," Chad said.

  "I guess word travels fast in Slavithe," Ajalia said wryly. She went back into the house, and shook her hair out over her shoulders. Slaves had begun to trickle down the stairs and gather in the main room. Some of them wandered into the kitchen, and reappeared with hunks of meat or bread clutched in their hands.

  "Well, if your offering is amazing," Chad said, "they won't have to give anything themselves."

  "I see," Ajalia said. She went to the foot of the steps. "Philas," she called up in the Eastern tongue. He shouted a reply down at her. "We have an audience," she shouted up in the Eastern language. At her words, which the slaves understood quite well, a loud chattering went up in the main room. She imagined the faces of the Slavithe men and women outside, their eyes widening at the exotic noises coming from within the house.

  Philas came down the stairs. He was wearing a billowing robe of midnight blue, and his hair had been slicked back, and crowned with a net of glittering red gems. The other slaves were attired in the finery they had worn on the first approach to the city; their silks fell around their bodies with thick rustles, and shimmering hues of gold and black. The women had dressed their hair in elaborate curls and waves, and the men had put on whatever jewels they owned.

  "Wait until you see," Philas murmured to Ajalia, and he flicked his head at the stairs. Yelin appeared. Ajalia held back a smile; Yelin looked like a radiant goddess of the moon. Lim's former lover was wearing the heavy silver gown she had hidden in the packing of the caravan, and the thick folds of silk were painted over with long streams of blue water. Leaping fish had been embroidered over the skirt of the silver gown, and the fish eyes shone with imitation diamonds.

  Yelin had painted her face in the fashion of an Eastern lady; her eyes were lidded over with heavy red and black, and her lips shone with a lustrous oil that made them look soft and enormous. She had put the tribal sign of their master's clan over her forehead, a
nd her hands had been painted red to match the color of her eyelids. Eastern law forbade a slave to dress fully as a lady, and Yelin's red hands showed her station.

  Yelin's long golden hair was dressed in loose waves down her back. Ajalia studied Yelin's hair, which fell down below her waist, and was twisted and pinned with long black jewels at her temples.

  "Yelin," Ajalia said.

  Yelin tilted her chin haughtily at Ajalia.

  "I have unfortunate news," Ajalia told the beautifully dressed slave.

  "Yes?" Yelin asked with dignity. Ajalia tried to feel sorry for her fellow slave, but she could not muster any pity.

  "They are going to cut your hair," Ajalia said.

  Yelin's eyes widened; her mouth dropped open, and what color was visible drained from her cheeks.

  "Why?" Yelin demanded.

  "Long hair is only allowed to married women here in Slavithe," Ajalia said.

  At that moment, Lim appeared at the foot of the stairs. His hair had not yet begun to grow out, and his once-luxurious mass of curls now formed a short shadow over his scalp. Yelin's eyes darted at her old flame, and her lips closed up tight.

  "I'll buy Lim," Yelin said.

  "What?" Lim said.

  "You've got five minutes," Ajalia told Yelin. "Work it out with Philas." She went out of the room, and up the stairs. She could hear Lim protesting, and Yelin bargaining with Philas over a price for Lim as a husband.

  Ajalia checked through each room. She found her boy fast asleep in a bed, and shook him out of his rest.

  "Get dressed," she told him. "We're about to leave."

  The light in the windows was growing lighter by the minute; soon the sun would show. Ajalia was sure that she would be late to the Thief Lord's house. She glanced out of the window of the boy's room, and saw that the group of Slavithe people had grown larger in the street. She wondered if the Slavithe people were going to wait until they were late for the Feast of Beautiful Things as well.

  Ajalia went up the stairs to the top of the house. She checked each room, and then went into the small attic room. She retrieved the leather book from where she had hidden it again, and pulled it open to show the lining. The rectangle shape was still there. She traced her fingers over the edge of the shape, and pushed it towards the slit in the fabric.