Shadows Return

mouth. The wristbands were no better, smooth and seamless, sealed with magic.
    Plenimaran magic, on a Zengati slaver’s ship.
He couldn’t think of a worse combination.
    Time crawled by and the light began to fade. Judging by the way the shadows moved across the floor, he guessed they were sailing north. North from Gedre lay Skala or Plenimar. Alec had no illusions about where they were headed.
    Darkness fell and no one came, not even the boy. Huddled in his blankets, Alec kept watch on the door, sick with worry for Seregil.
    He must have dozed off, for he was completely unprepared when the door suddenly banged open and the cabin filled with people. Dark, bearded faces loomed over him and hard, hurtful hands held him down. Someone held a lantern aloft. Someone else grabbed the bar between his hands and wrenched it out sideways, so that his right hand was over the edge of the bed. An order was barked and some of the men fell back, giving place to a heavyset man wielding a small branding iron. Hands tightened on Alec’s chest and legs and shoulders as the bastard grabbed Alec’s wrist and pressed the iron to the inside of his forearm.
    Alec screamed and swore and struggled as the smell of burnt flesh filled his nostrils, but to no avail. Flipping him over, they branded him on the back of the left calf, too.
    It was over quickly, and they left him alone again, but that was little consolation. The pain of the burns was agony, and with his hands shackled like this, it was impossible to find a way to lie that didn’t cause more pain.
    He cringed as he heard the bar being lifted again. A tall, veiled figure slipped in carrying a basket and a small lantern. At first Alec thought it was a woman, but the legs and bare feet that showed below the short robe were a man’s. His hair was hidden under something like a crude sen’gai, and a scrap of plain muslin hid his face below a pair of sad grey eyes.
    Aurënfaie eyes,
Alec thought, even before the man unpinned the veil and let Alec see his face, and the thick iron collar around his neck.
    He was ’faie, without any doubt, perhaps a bit younger than Seregil. He remained by the door as he held up his right arm, showing Alec the faded brand on his forearm. It was a symbol or letter of some sort, but nothing Alec could make sense of.
    “Each slaver ship captain has his own mark,” the stranger said in Aurënfaie, and the sound of that familiar language quieted Alec’s fears a little.
    “You’re a ’lave?” Alec slurred around the branks.
    The man gave him a dispirited shrug. “What else would a ’faie be, in such company? I’ve come to dress your burns. Will you let me?”
    Alec nodded, trying unsuccessfully to cover himself.
    The man set his basket down on the edge of the bed and pulled the blanket over Alec’s lap and legs. “I know you’re frightened, and in pain, but there’s no need for fear. They like their ’faie slaves unblemished at the Riga markets, and that’s where we’re headed.”
    He took Alec’s arm in gentle hands and applied a salve with a light, careful touch. Alec guessed he’d done this often. The salve smelled good, and soothed the burns considerably. Alec studied his helper closely as the man took strips of clean linen from the basket and bandaged Alec’s arm. His tunic had short sleeves, and as he leaned over his task, Alec could see the telltale scars left by a lash peeking out across the back of one shoulder. “’ey ’ip you.”
    “I was stubborn, and proud,” the ’faie replied without looking up. “They beat that out of me, eventually. It doesn’t have to be so difficult for you, little brother. In the end, you’ll find it’s best to submit.”
    “’ubmit? ’oo what?”
    “That all depends on who buys you. If you’re lucky, being a half-blood, someone might only want you as a laborer, or an ornamental house slave. Turn on your side so I can dress your leg.”
    Alec rolled over to face the wall. “An’ if I no’ ’ucky?”
    “Well, some would say your mixed blood has a pretty effect, and with that fair hair? You might end up in some rich merchant’s bed.”
    “’ever!”
    “Or perhaps with a woman. The wealthier courtesans often keep boys as pets.”
    Alec shook his head furiously, heedless of the way the branks plate cut at the corner of his mouth, then let out a grunt of alarm as the man seized him by the shoulder and pulled him around to face him.
    “I’m trying to do you a favor, little brother.”