The Blade Itself

“No need to be shy,” chuckled the soldier, “I’ve seen you looking.” He turned towards the column. “Hold them up there!” he shouted, and the slaves stumbled to a halt. He leaned from his saddle and grabbed the scrawny girl under the armpit, dragging her roughly out of the column.

“She’s a good one,” he said, pulling her towards Ferro. “Bit young, but she’s ready. Clean up nice, she will. Bit of a limp but that’ll heal, we’ve been driving ’em hard. Good teeth… show him your teeth, bitch!” The girl’s cracked lips curled back slowly. “Good teeth. What do you say boy? Ten in gold for her! It’s a good price!”

Ferro stood there, staring. The girl looked dumbly back with big, dead eyes.

“Look,” said the soldier, leaning down from his saddle. “She’s worth twice that, and there’s no danger in it! When we get to Shaffa, I’ll tell them she died out here in the dust. No one will wonder at that, it happens all the time! I get ten, and you save ten! Everyone wins!”

Everyone wins. Ferro stared up at the guard. He pulled his helmet off, wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. “Peace, Ferro,” whispered Yulwei.

“Alright, eight!” Shouted the soldier. “She’s got a nice smile! Show him a smile, bitch!” The corner of the girl’s mouth twitched slightly. “There, see! Eight, and you’re stealing from me!”

Ferro’s fists were clenched, nails digging into her palms. “Peace, Ferro,” whispered Yulwei, with a warning note in his voice.

“God’s teeth but you drive a bargain boy! Seven, and that’s my last offer. Seven, damn it!” The soldier waved his helmet around in frustration. “Use her gently, in five years she’ll be worth more! It’s an investment!”

The soldier’s face was just a few feet away. She could see each tiny bead of sweat forming on his forehead, each stubbly hair on his cheeks, each blemish, nick, and pore on his skin. She could smell him, almost.

The truly thirsty will drink piss, or salt water, or oil, however bad for them, so great is their need to drink. Ferro had seen it often in the badlands. That was the extent of her need to kill this man now. She wanted to tear him with her bare hands, to choke the life from him, to rip his face with her teeth. The desire was almost too strong to resist. “Peace!” hissed Yulwei.

“I can’t afford her,” Ferro heard herself saying.

“You might have said so before, boy, and saved me the trouble!” The soldier stuck his helmet back on. “Still, I can’t blame you for looking. She’s a good one.” He reached down and grabbed the girl under the arm, dragging her back towards the others. “They’ll get twenty for her in Shaffa!” he shouted over his shoulder. The column moved on. Ferro watched the girl until the slaves disappeared over a rise, stumbling, limping, shambling towards slavery.

She felt cold now, cold and empty. She wished she had killed the guard, whatever the cost. Killing him could have filled that empty space, if only for a while. That was how it worked. “I walked in a column like that,” she said slowly.

Yulwei gave a long sigh. “I know, Ferro, I know, but fate has chosen you for saving. Be grateful for it, if you know how.”

“You should have let me kill him.”

“Eugh,” clucked the old man in disgust, “I do declare, you’d kill the whole world if you could. Is there anything but killing in you Ferro?”

“There used to be,” she muttered, “but they whip it out of you. They whip you until they’re sure there’s nothing left.” Yulwei stood there, with that pitying look on his face. Strange, how it didn’t make her angry any more.

“I’m sorry, Ferro. Sorry for you and for them.” He stepped back into the road, shaking his head. “But it’s better than death.”

She stayed for a moment, watching the dust rising from the distant column.

“The same,” she whispered to herself.

Sore Thumb

Logen leaned against the parapet, squinted into the morning sun, and took in the view.

He’d done the same, it felt long ago now, from the balcony of his room at the library. The two views could hardly have been more different. Sunrise over the jagged carpet of buildings on the one hand, hot and glaring bright and full of distant noise. The cold and misty valley on the other, soft and empty and still as death. He remembered that morning, remembered how he’d felt like a different man. He certainly felt a different man now. A stupid man. Small, scared, ugly, and confused.

“Logen.” Malacus stepped out onto the balcony to stand beside him, smiled up at the sun and out over the city to the sparkling bay, already busy with ships. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

“If you say so, but I’m not sure I see it. All those people.” Logen gave a sweaty shiver. “It’s not right. It frightens me.”

“Frightened? You?”