style="font-size:15px;"> ‘Slaves?’ Until now there had been no contact with any Tsurani except warriors. It was something of a revelation to find they practiced slavery. While not unknown in the Kingdom, slavery was not widespread and was limited to convicted felons. Along the Far Coast, it was nearly nonexistent. Arutha found the idea strange and repugnant. Men might be born to low station, but even the lowliest serf had rights the nobility were obligated to respect and protect. Slaves were property. With a sudden disgust, Arutha said, ‘Tell them to get up, for mercy’s sake.’
Tully spoke and the men slowly rose, the two on the flanks looking about like frightened children. The other stood calmly, eyes only slightly downcast. Again Tully questioned the man, finding his understanding of their language returning.
The centermost man spoke at length, and when he was done Tully said, ‘They were assigned to work in the enclaves near the river. They say their camp was overrun by the forest people – he refers to the elves, I think – and the short ones.’
‘Dwarves, no doubt,’ added Longbow with a grin.
Tully threw him a withering look. The rangy forester simply continued to smile. Martin was one of the few young men of the castle never intimidated by the old cleric, even before becoming one of the Duke’s staff.
‘As I was saying,’ continued the priest, ‘the elves and dwarves overran their camp. They fled, fearing they would be killed. They wandered in the woods for days until the patrol picked them up this morning.’
Arutha said, ‘This fellow in the center seems a bit different from the others. Ask why this is so.’
Tully spoke slowly to the man, who answered with little inflection in his tones. When he was done, Tully spoke with some surprise. ‘He says his name is Tchakachakalla. He was once a Tsurani officer!’
Arutha said, ‘This may prove most fortunate. If he’ll cooperate, we may finally learn some things about the enemy.’
Swordmaster Fannon appeared from the keep and hurried to where Arutha was questioning the prisoners. The commander of the Crydee garrison said, ‘What have you here?’
Arutha explained as much as he knew about the prisoners, and when he was finished, Fannon said, ‘Good, continue with the questioning.’
Arutha said to Tully, ‘Ask him how he came to be a slave.’
Without sign of embarrassment, Tchakachakalla told his story. When he was done, Tully stood shaking his head. ‘He was a Strike Leader. It may take some time to puzzle out what his rank was equivalent to in our armies, but I gather he was at least a Knight-Lieutenant. He says his men broke in one of the early battles and his “house” lost much honor. He wasn’t given permission to take his own life by someone he calls the Warchief. Instead he was made a slave to expiate the shame of his command.’
Roland whistled low. ‘His men fled and he was held responsible.’
Longbow said, ‘There’s been more than one earl who’s bollixed a command and found himself ordered by his Duke to serve with one of the Border Barons along the Northern Marches.’
Tully shot Martin and Roland a black look. ‘If you are finished?’ He addressed Arutha and Fannon: ‘From what he said, it is clear he was stripped of everything. He may prove of use to us.’
Fannon said, ‘This may be some trick. I don’t like his looks.’
The man’s head came up, and he fixed Fannon with a narrow gaze. Martin’s mouth fell open. ‘By Kilian! I think he understands what you said.’
Fannon stood directly before Tchakachakalla. ‘Do you understand me?’
‘Little, master.’ His accent was thick, and he spoke with a slow singsong tone alien to the King’s Tongue. ‘Many Kingdom slaves on Kelewan. Know little King’s Tongue.’
Fannon said, ‘Why didn’t you speak before?’
Again without any show of emotion, he answered, ‘Not ordered. Slave obey. Not …’ He turned to Tully and spoke a few words.
Tully said, ‘He says it isn’t a slave’s place to show initiative.’
Arutha said, ‘Tully, do you think he can be trusted?’
‘I don’t know. His story is strange, but they are a strange people by our standards. My mind contact with the dying soldier showed me much I still don’t understand.’ Tully spoke to the man.
To Arutha the Tsurani said, ‘Tchakachakalla tell.’ Fighting for words, he said, ‘I Wedewayo. My house, family. My clan Hunzan. Old, much honor. Now slave. No house, no clan, no Tsuranuanni. No honor. Slave obey.’
Arutha said, ‘I think I understand. If you go back to the Tsurani, what would happen to you?’
Tchakachakalla said, ‘Be slave, maybe. Be killed, maybe. All same.’
‘And if you stay here?’
‘Be slave, be killed?’ He shrugged, showing little concern.
Arutha said, slowly, ‘We keep no slaves. What would you do if we set you free?’
A flicker of some emotion passed over the slave’s face, and he turned to Tully and spoke rapidly. Tully translated. ‘He says such a thing is not possible on his world. He asks if you can do such a thing.’
Arutha nodded. Tchakachakalla pointed to his companions. ‘They work. They always slaves.’
‘And you?’ said Arutha.
Tchakachakalla looked hard at the Prince and spoke to Tully, never taking his eyes from Arutha. Tully said, ‘He’s recounting his lineage. He says he is Tchakachakalla, Strike Leader of the Wedewayo, of the Hunzan Clan. His father was a Force Leader, and his great-grandfather Warchief of the Hunzan Clan. He has fought honorably, and only once has he failed in his duty. Now he is only a slave, with no family, no clan, no nation, and no honor. He asks if you mean to give him back his honor.’
Arutha said, ‘If the Tsurani come, what will you do?’
Tchakachakalla indicated his companions. ‘These men slaves. Tsurani come, they do nothing. Wait. Go with …’ He and Tully exchanged brief remarks and Tully supplied him with the word he wished. ‘… victors. They go with victors.’ He looked at Arutha, and his eyes came alive. ‘You make Tchakachakalla free. Tchakachakalla be your man, lord. Your honor is Tchakachakalla’s honor. Give life if you say. Fight Tsurani if you say.’
Fannon spoke. ‘Likely story that. More’s the odds he’s a spy.’
The barrel-chested Tsurani looked hard at Fannon, then with a sudden motion stepped before the Swordmaster, and before anyone could react, pulled Fannon’s knife from his belt.
Longbow had his own knife out an instant later, as Arutha’s sword was clearing its scabbard. Roland and the other soldiers were only a moment behind. The Tsurani made no threatening gesture, but simply flipped the knife, reversing it and handing it to Fannon hilt first. ‘Master think Tchakachakalla enemy? Master kill. Give warrior’s death, return honor.’
Arutha returned his sword to his scabbard and took the knife
