White Road

“I have their warrants.”
    “I need to see them.”
    Micum took the packet of documents from inside his coat and gave it to him. As the man read through them, Micum turned and locked eyes with Seregil for an instant. He was ready for trouble if it came.
    But the captain just handed the documents back. “Sorry to trouble you. We’ve had a lot of runaways this past winter and I’ve got my hands full trying to find them. There was one slave in particular, a blue-eyed one like this one of yours, but he was a blond.”
    “Can’t be this boy,” Micum said. “I’ve owned him since he was just a little thing. The dates are there in the warrant.”
    “So I see. I’ll just check their brands and you can be on your way.”
    “Show him,” Micum ordered. Seregil was the only one who understood the words, but Rieser and Alec both pushed back their sleeves as he did and showed the fake brands. This satisfied the captain. He waved them on and continued on his way.
    When they were gone, Micum heaved a deep sigh of relief. “That always takes a few months off my life, getting stopped like that!” he told the drayman. “Sorry if I’ve caused you any trouble.”
    “No trouble for me, friend. This happens all the time. Sakor help the man who forgets to carry his warrants. The markets are full of seized slaves these days.”
    “More than usual?”
    “So I hear. Seems some escaped from a nobleman in Riga, and when he went after them they killed him. The widow has offered a good bounty for them, but it will be the Riga Master Slaver who gets them in the end.”
    “I almost pity the ones who end up like that.” Micum was fishing for information.
    “I don’t, sir. Slaves who kill their masters deserve to be tortured to death in the market square.”
    “I’ve never seen it myself.”
    “Oh, I have! Their hands and feet are cut off, and their guts are pulled out and burned in front of them while they’re still attached. And then their eyes are gouged out and theirhead cut off. But even that’s too good for murdering slaves, if you ask me.”
    Seregil was very glad Alec and Rieser didn’t understand any of that. He and Micum and Alec had courted grisly deaths before, but not one like this.
    They reached Riga late that afternoon and were stopped and searched again at the city gate. Once again, Seregil’s forgeries stood up under scrutiny.
    The harbor was thick with warships sporting the striped sails. There were Virésse vessels moored there, as well.
    Seregil shaded his eyes, brow furrowed above his veil. “I suppose that’s not unusual, given the trade agreements. Still—Oh, no.”
    “What?” asked Rieser.
    “See that Virésse ship flying the red-and-black pennant? That little flag isn’t flown unless the khirnari is aboard.”
    “Ulan í Sathil is here?” Alec exclaimed softly. “He might know about the book, too, if he was in league with Yhakobin.”
    “Who is Ulan í Sathil?” asked Rieser.
    “The khirnari of that clan,” Seregil replied.
    “A khirnari that treats with makers of tayan’gils?” The man looked truly shocked.
    “We don’t know that for certain,” Seregil admitted. “But it’s possible.”
    “What now?” asked Micum.
    “I guess we’d better go see if the book is gone or not.”
    “Even if it is, it doesn’t necessarily mean Ulan has it.”
    “No,” Seregil replied, “but it gives us a place to start.”
    “I can ask around the docks and see what he’s been up to,” said Micum.
    But Seregil shook his head. “No, we’d better not do anything to get you remembered just yet. We know where he is, and if he leaves we know where he’ll go.”
    The horse market was several streets on. The pickings were slim; the war was taking its toll here, too.
    The others hung back respectfully again while Micumbargained for four horses and some used saddles, telling the trader he’d sold his slaves’ saddles during a slack time.
    “Buying saddles for your slaves?” the man asked as he sat down at a small table to write out the bill of sale.
    “I have a long way to go and I expect them to work. They can’t do that sliding around on nothing but a blanket,” Micum explained.
    “Ah, well then. Where are you headed?”
    “I mean to make my way to Nanta, and then up the river from there to the outposts to sell my horses.”
    “What about the fighting?”
    Micum laid a finger to the side of his nose. “I’ve got my routes, friend. No one bothers me. And it’s still winter