All Fall Down Read online

  Some hours must have passed by the time I awakened, for a hazy sun stood well past its zenith. Apparently the sounds of the slavers approaching to hand out a meager meal were what had roused me. I opened my sleep-gummed eyes and saw the men passing around a few loaves of coarse bread and what looked like half a wheel of cheese. To their credit, the villagers took the food silently and parceled it out so that everyone could have their fair share.

  Elissa handed me a thick piece of bread and a slab of blue-veined cheese. She ventured a quick, half-hearted smile. “At least they’re not starving us.”

  “Of course not,” I replied. “We’re valuable merchandise. We’re of no use if we’re half-dead of starvation.”

  As soon as the words left my mouth, I regretted them. Elissa’s full mouth quivered a bit, and I could see the tears start in her long-lashed dark eyes.

  More than once during my training I had been taken to task for my bluntness. It was not seemly in one whose purpose was to soothe the ill, but I had always found it difficult to keep my tongue fully in check. I had hoped that I’d improved somewhat over the years, but obviously I still had some ways to go.

  “But don’t worry,” I went on briskly. “I’m sure you’ll find a very good situation. A pretty girl like you would most certainly make a fine lady’s maid.”

  At that she did perk up a bit. I supposed for a girl from a forsaken little hamlet such as Aunde, even slavery might not be so bad if she found a place in a great house. Certainly I wouldn’t mention my fears that instead she could end up being worked to death in the endless flax fields that formed the basis of Seldd’s economy, or, only slightly better, toiling in one of the weaving houses where the flax was spun into linen until she went blind from the unending close work. To tell the truth, I wasn’t sure whether those fears were for her alone or for myself as well. I had skill and would be an asset to any large household…if I could convince my new owners that it was in their best interests to keep me as a house slave and not as another back to be broken in the flax fields.

  But perhaps it wouldn’t come to that. I could only hope that Frin would have the presence of mind to report my capture to my superiors. I was certain they would do whatever was necessary to secure my freedom. After all, they had more than ten years invested in my training. At twenty-five, I still looked forward to decades of plying my healing art throughout the various kingdoms of the continent, and since all of my earnings save what I required for certain personal necessities were given over to the Order, I could not imagine that I would be left to rot in Seldd.

  Of course I had been warned by my superiors not to venture too close to the border. As much as the people who lived in those regions needed our help, we physicians simply could not risk capture by slavers. And I had thought I was being careful. Another village, even closer to the border than Aunde, had requested my help, but I had had to decline, even though it pained me to refuse aid to those in need.

  Why this particular group of slavers had become emboldened enough to venture farther into Farendon than any others, I couldn’t say for certain. Perhaps the inhabitants of the other villages were becoming too wary. Perhaps they had abandoned their homesteads and farms altogether. One would have thought that at some point the slavers’ depredations would become too great to bear, and that our leaders would be forced to act. But our king was the lazy, pleasure-loving son of yet another indolent monarch, and I supposed war over the rights of a few peasants was something to be avoided at all costs.

  Elissa had continued to watch me closely as I sat silent, brooding over my own thoughts. At length she ventured, “What does a lady’s maid do?”

  Glad I could take her mind away from the squalor and uncertainty of our present situation, I explained her possible duties as best I could. Of course I had no maid while taking my training in the house of the Order, but my sisters and I had had a personal servant who attended to us before I left home at fifteen, and who continued to do so for my siblings after I was gone. So I was able enough to describe how she would take care of a lady’s wardrobe, and help with her hair, and run errands for her.

  “No kitchen work, and no work in the fields,” I said, and I could see Elissa’s slender shoulders relax a bit.

  “That sounds better than what I was doing in Aunde,” she replied, looking down at her reddened and chafed hands. “I’m quick with a needle, though, and I suppose I could learn to dress hair.” She touched the long dark braid that fell over her shoulder and was quiet for a moment. I watched her thin fingers smooth their way over her hair, as if for the first time really contemplating the intricacy of the weave of her braid.

  “You’re filling her head with nonsense,” said another of the captives, a narrow-faced man of about my own age. “It’s to the fields with all of us.”

  “You don’t know that for sure,” I said calmly enough, although what I really wished to do was snap at him to not frighten the others any more than they already were. “We all have our own skills, our own talents. Seldd requires slaves for much more than simply working in the fields.”

  Elissa’s face had again grown tight with worry at the young man’s words, but she seemed to relax slightly as she listened to my reply. “What Mistress Merys says is true,” she added. “We have no way of knowing exactly what our new masters will want with us.”

  He scowled, then gave Elissa an appraising look.

  I could tell he was probably about to make some misguided comment as to exactly what a slave owner might want with a girl as pretty as Elissa, so I said hastily, “And we won’t know until we’re there, so there’s no need to borrow trouble. Besides,” I added, “we don’t want them to see us quarreling, do we?”

  The young man lifted an eyebrow, but then he obviously saw, as I had, that a group of the slavers had approached our makeshift holding area. Mouth thinning, he brushed at the dirt on his breeches and stood, even as Elissa and I followed suit.

  Five men came toward us, led by the man with whom I had spoken earlier. He gave us a casual glance, and then said, “We’re moving out. Come along.”

  There being nothing else we could do, we followed him out from underneath the overhang and then climbed back up into the wagon. He took a seat up front, next to another man who waited there as he held the reins of a team of horses that waited patiently, anticipating our departure. The remaining three men mounted their own horses and fell in around us as we began the next step of our journey.

  Where that would take us, or to whom, I had no way of knowing. All I could do was huddle into my cloak, Elissa close by my side, and pray to whatever gods might be listening that I would have the strength to face whatever came next.

  Chapter Two

  In the end, our journey took the greater part of three days. For the first day—while still within the borders of Farendon—we traveled from dusk until the sun began to show on the eastern horizon, when we made camp in some well-hidden glade or ravine. Then, once the sun had set, we took to the wagon again, to spend the evening hours slowly rattling our way farther from home. But on the second day I knew we must have crossed over into Seldd, for the slavers allowed us only a few hours of rest before we set out in the mid-morning to continue our journey.

  At first I could see no real difference between this country and my own. Here, as in Farendon, the trees were just beginning to turn, their leaves showing bright hues of ochre and crimson. The weather held at least; although the fogs returned the second night, after that the days were mild, the evenings clear and cool but not yet cold. Then, on the third day, I saw the first of the great flax fields stretching out to either side of the road, as well as the hunched dark figures of the slaves who worked them.

  I could tell when Elissa first noticed them as well. She had been staring off into the distance, a dreamy look on her face, when suddenly she stiffened, a frown creasing the skin between her delicate brows.

  “The fields....” she whispered, and pulled my cloak more closely about her, even though the day was fine an
d clear.

  By then I was weary enough that no ready words of encouragement found their way to my lips. I merely patted her on the shoulder and gave her a small smile, hoping that would be reassurance enough. I had no more idea than anyone else of our true destination, and platitudes that had been simple enough to utter a few days ago now appeared to me completely useless. All we could do was wait and see what happened.

  Toward the evening of the third day, we approached a low-lying city that clustered around the edges of a dark, brooding lake. Although of course I had never been there before, I knew it must be Myalme, a regional center of commerce—and the nexus of the Selddish slave trade.

  If I remembered my geography correctly, the body of water on which Myalme was situated was called Lake Nureine. Several large rivers flowed into the lake. Seldd was not a densely inhabited country; uncounted miles were taken up by the unending fields of flax and barley and wheat. So Myalme, although one of the three greatest cities of the realm, looked small and provincial when compared to the stone towers and wide cobbled streets of Lystare, the capital of my own land.

  The slave markets were situated on the outskirts of town, at the eastern end of Lake Nureine. Somehow, the air did smell different here—damper and faintly tinged with the scent of fish and human waste. It was to be expected, I supposed. The slave markets were filled with the miserable wares of the trade, and so many people packed together in such primitive conditions couldn’t help but stink. Still, I found myself trying to breathe through my mouth, all the while praying that we wouldn’t be here long.

  Fortune seemed to be on my side. The slavers were met by a well-dressed, fleshy man who threw Elissa and myself a look that made me shiver and draw closer to the young woman. She, thankfully, had not seemed to notice. Her fearful attention had been drawn to a large platform at one end of the open space in which the wagon had stopped—clearly it was the place where the slavers displayed their wares.

  The newcomer then engaged in what sounded like protracted and somewhat heated negotiations with the leader of our slavers. Once or twice the slave leader gestured vigorously in our direction, and finally he came over to us where we waited in the wagon.

  He stopped in front of Elissa and myself, made a few more jabbing motions with his forefinger, and then paused.

  I held myself very still, refusing to meet either one’s eyes. If the damned man tried to open my mouth to show off my teeth, I most certainly would give him a bite he wouldn’t soon forget.

  Fortunately, it did not come to that. The well-dressed newcomer looked us over from head to toe, then gave the rest of the captives a quick but keen glance. At last he nodded.

  The slaver was too much a professional to heave a sigh of relief, but I caught the sudden release of tension in his shoulders. Then, as he apparently noticed me watching him, he gave me a quick wink. I looked away, an unwilling smile threatening to pull at one side of my mouth. I always knew that my sense of the absurd would get me in trouble one day.

  I watched as the well-dressed man handed the head slaver a heavy bag, presumably filled with the local coin. Then he stepped to one side as the slaver approached the wagon and pointed at Elissa, two of the more likely-looking young men, another pretty girl probably a few years older than Elissa, and myself.

  “You there,” he commanded in his rough accent. “Come along now—it’s your lucky day.”

  “I find that difficult to believe,” I commented, even as I bent to retrieve my satchel.

  “Believe what you want, my tart-mouthed friend.” He stepped to the side as, wearily, one by one, we climbed down out of the wagon. The remaining captives watched us with a combination of worry and envy. “But I figured you’d prefer a private transaction to public display.” And his gaze shifted briefly to the slave platform at the edge of the courtyard before sliding back to me.

  Privately, I was inclined to agree with him, although I remained silent.

  “Listen up, you,” he went on, this time directing his words to those of us who had apparently been just been sold. “Master Dorus will be back for you shortly. You’ve just been sold to Lord Shaine of Donnishold. That’s probably more than you lot deserve, but there you have it.” Again he gave me that knowing grin, and this time I lifted an eyebrow at him. The grin widened further. “Too bad I can’t be there to see what he makes of you.”

  “I’ll be sure to write and let you know,” I shot back.

  Again he refused to take offense. No doubt the heavy money pouch hanging from his belt had done much to improve his humor. “I’m sure you would, darlin’—if only I could read!”

  My lips parted to issue another retort, but we were interrupted by the arrival of Master Dorus with another wagon, this one lighter and better built, with a covering of heavy canvas stretched over a framework of curved beechwood. Accompanying Master Dorus—who I assumed must be the steward to Lord Shaine—were two more men, both wearing studded leather doublets and short, businesslike swords at their belts. No doubt they were there to serve a dual purpose of guarding Master Dorus and his cargo…and to ensure that said cargo stayed put and didn’t try to wander off in the night.

  Dorus fixed us all with an unmoving stare, and without a word we climbed up into the wagon. I didn’t fancy sharing such close quarters with him for the journey (however long that might take), let alone being a member of his household. His dark eyes were cold, opaque, and the tightly graven lines around his mouth spoke of a harsh, unforgiving nature. I wondered at the unseen Lord Shaine, who would entrust such a man with his slaves and the management of his estate. Then I tried to tell myself that such dislike for a person on sight was certainly contrary to the teachings of the Order, which preached tolerance and respect for all living things.

  Of course, tolerance probably came more easily to those who hadn’t been sold into slavery.

  At least the interior of the wagon was clean, and neat rolls of bedding had been placed there for us. Perhaps we were slaves, but it was apparent to me that we had fetched a good sum, and as valuable property we would at least be given the basic necessities.

  We all settled ourselves down as best we could. No one spoke. I could tell that Dorus’ presence had unnerved the rest of them quite possibly more than it had me. He hadn’t said one word to us, so I had no idea whether he spoke the common tongue or not, but none of us seemed inclined to test whether he had that knowledge.

  Although the canvas covering of the wagon shielded us from the elements, it had the disadvantage of hiding the passing landscape from our view as well. Of course, night fell soon after we left the slave districts of Myalme, so most probably we would not have seen much.

  An hour or so after we were on the road, Dorus passed back to us a hamper filled with what proved to be fairly tasty meat rolls, as well as some dried fruit and several flasks of water. We shared the meal in silence, and then, one by one, we dropped off into slumber, lulled by the meal and the endless swaying motion of the wagon.

  At some point during the night we must have stopped, for when I awoke and peered out the opening at the back of the wagon, I could see we were in a small village. The buildings had been fashioned of a dark-gray native stone and looked dour under a lowering early morning sky. At the edge of my vision I detected one of the two guards, who stood off to the rear of the wagon. No doubt we had stopped so that Master Dorus could pass the night in a real bed at an inn. Of course we slaves would not be offered anything besides the makeshift beds we had on the wagon floor.

  At the same time I became uncomfortably aware that the call of nature had exerted itself somewhat forcibly on my bladder. Surely they wouldn’t expect us to relieve ourselves here in the wagon. It was far too clean for that.

  I managed to catch the guard’s attention and, through the use of some awkward hand gestures, somehow conveyed my need to him. By the end of the exchange I could feel myself flushing, which, I told myself, was ridiculous. After all, as a physician I had to deal with all sorts of bodily functions on a daily b
asis. Somehow, though, it was quite different when the functions involved were my own.

  Still, the guard allowed me to clamber out of the wagon and follow him to an outdoor privy located behind the inn. I took care of my business as quickly as possible and then allowed myself a deep breath of cool morning air once I was back out in the relative freshness of the courtyard.

  By the time I returned to the wagon, the rest of its occupants had roused themselves, and the guard was forced to perform privy duties for the entire group. I couldn’t help but allow myself a small, unnoticed smile at his obvious chagrin. As a man-at-arms to a lord, he most likely felt that such work was far beneath him.

  Two servants—or possibly they were slaves as well—emerged from the rear of the inn bearing bowls of some sort of porridge. I didn’t recognize the grain from which it was made, but it had so little taste it couldn’t really offend. It seemed nourishing, however, and I ate with good appetite. If I had learned anything over the past few years as I traveled about the countryside, it was to eat when food was offered. No matter what the day had in store for us, it would be better to face it on a full stomach.

  After another interval, Dorus finally emerged from the inn and took his place on the front seat of the wagon. The two guards mounted their own horses and fell into place behind us as we continued on down the road.

  It was difficult to gauge the passing of time, as the sky had clouded over to a uniform gray, obscuring the sun. At least rain had not yet begun to fall. We again passed the time in silence, broken only by another makeshift meal at midday, when we were given strips of highly seasoned dried meat, some cheese, and surprisingly good bread, no doubt purchased at the inn, for it tasted fresh.

  The forced inactivity began to prey upon me. I couldn’t remember a time when I hadn’t been doing at least three things at once. During my training I had interminable lessons in herb lore and anatomy, accompanied by practicums where we went into the countryside to gather herbs and other natural substances for medicines, or studied the inner workings of the body through dissections (frowned upon by the priestesses of Inyanna, but viewed by the city elders as a convenient way to dispose of the bodies of executed criminals). And life in the field was no different. I was used to rising early to compound my medicines and see to the patients in my care, patients whose complaints could range from the simple nausea of early pregnancy to lung ailments to the variety of diseases that had plagued men since the beginning of time: pox, mumps, a variety of fevers, ague.