White Road

up there where I’m heading. Skala’s whore queen is probably still snug in her palace for now.” He spat on the ground. “This will be her last year, I say. Death to Skala!”
    “Death to Skala, friend!” The trader slapped Micum on the shoulder.
    “Say, can you tell me if there are any rich nobles around here, who might have special stock to sell? Some with a bit of ’faie blood in ’em? Not that your beasts are inferior.” He stroked the neck of the ordinary bay he’d just purchased. “Fine animals! But if I should meet up with some officers along the way in Mycena, it’s ’faie beasts they want. It’d help me along, if I could put a bit more gold in my pocket going north.”
    “Well …”
    “And I’ll put some gold in yours, too,” Micum assured him. “Steer me right and I’ll give you a gold sester for every horse I find.” With that he spit in his palm and held it out to the trader. The man did the same, and they clasped on it.
    Leaning at ease against the corral, the trader rattled off half a dozen names, none of them Yhakobin’s. “They might have a few horses left. But you’d better have a lot of gold in your pocket, if you mean to trade with them. The richer they are, the tighter the purse strings.”
    “Isn’t that the truth! Any widows among them? They’re likely to not deal so sharp.”
    “That would be the Lady Meran. You’ll want to keep your slaves on a short tether, though, if you go near her.”
    “Why’s that?”
    “Because her husband was killed by escaped slaves a few months back. It was the scandal of the city.”
    “I’ll keep that in mind, friend.” Micum dropped another coin in the man’s hand. “And where would I find this grieving lady?”
    “You want the east high road. You’ll find yourself on it if you go to the second slavers’ square and take a right turn at the barn with the sun and moon sign above the door. You can’t miss seeing it. From there you ride out to the second crossroad and turn right again. By and by you’ll strike a lane lined with tall trees. That’s the way to the estate.”
    “Thank you, friend. One last thing, though. Can you tell me the name of the dead husband?”
    “You could ask anyone in Riga that and get the answer. He was Charis Yhakobin, alchemist to the Overlord himself and the richest man in the duchy—even richer than the duke himself.”
    “Does the duke have horses to sell?” Micum asked.
    “No, but if you find any ’faie ones, he’s likely to be a good customer for you.”
    Micum clasped hands with him again. “You’ve been a great help, my friend. Give me your name and I’ll come to you first with northern stock, and make you a special price for whichever ones you want.”
    “Ashrail Urati. And yours?”
    “Lornis of Nanta. Look for me in the fall.”
    Ashrail glanced up at the sun. “You won’t get to that house before nightfall and she’d not likely to welcome you then. My house is just in the next street over. Be my guest tonight and take supper with me, why don’t you? I’ve a slave cupboard in my stable, so you needn’t worry about them.”
    “Very kind of you. I believe I will!”
    Ashrail left the market with them and took them to a large house in a respectable street. Micum was ushered in the front door, while Seregil and his fellow slaves ended up barred in a cramped, windowless room hardly bigger thanthe aforementioned cupboard, with one small flyspecked lantern for light. It reeked of stable muck, and there was no source of heat except for the lamp and their blankets and cloaks.
    “This reminds me of our last visit to Plenimar,” Alec said in Skalan, whispering in case of any prying ears outside. “Cold all the time. At least we can take these damn things off, though.” Alec pulled his veil off and tucked it inside his coat.
    “At least it’s not raining.”
    Sometime later they were given a hot supper of stew and bread and let out once to use a stinking privy, for which they had to put on their veils.
    “We might as well be horses!” Rieser muttered when they were barred in again.
    “I think the horses get better treatment,” said Alec, running a finger along the inside of his slave collar.
    Rieser pulled at his. “And this is what you escaped?”
    “What we escaped was worse,” Seregil told him.
    “And yet you come back here. You’re either very brave or just plain mad.”
    “Bit of both,” Seregil said with a grin that was hidden.
    “And all for the sake of