The Sapphanese Guild

Part One

Tidings From the North

Prologue

Acry went up from the camp. Ten’lassen threw on a burst of speed, catching up with the others as they broke through the forest onto a dusty road.

Panic rippled through the group. Zey vill catch us! Ven’marren whined.

Ten’lassen knew he was right. She could already hear the whistles and calls as the Mergensworth Collectors chased after them. At the rate the freed slaves were going, it was only a matter of time.

She shoved Ven’marren towards the opposite side of the road. Go, into the forest, take your tribe. I’ll lead them south along the road.

He hesitated, but only for a second. Ve shall vait for you further north. May ze spirits guide you. Driving the others ahead of him, Ven’marren crashed off into the forest’s patchwork of moonlight and shadow.

Just after Ven’marren disappeared, a Mergensworth slave guard ripped through the foliage onto the road. His gaze whipped around, immediately sighting Ten’lassen. He blew a whistle, then charged.

Ten’lassen sidestepped the thundering juggernaut of steel, letting him stagger to a halt past her. She had to run, but first, she needed to give the fleeing slaves as much time as possible.

Instead of struggling with his weapons, the slaver launched a gauntleted fist at her, catching her by surprise. The swing clipped her shoulder, and she danced back, berating herself for getting distracted.

For a brief second, the man’s gaze flicked to the forest, and her training kicked in. Sidestepping behind him, she threw her weight against his back, causing him to stumble. The slaver retaliated with swings from his gauntlets, but she dodged the first two, then grabbed his arm as he overextended on the third, using his momentum to help throw him to the ground.

As the slaver struggled to rise, Ten’lassen saw more Mergensworth Collectors finally appear, these lightly armored and more ready to hunt. Her heart sank: there were too many to distract. Some of the slavers broke off towards the woods. The rest moved to encircle her.

Not wasting any more time, Ten’lassen shot off down the dusty road. She had to hope Ven’marren and the others could outrun the slavers. She had done everything she could.

Her concentration now fixated on one goal: escape. Her bare feet pounded on the dirt road, her legs a blur. She ran until her legs burned, then she slipped into the forest carefully to avoid leaving a trail. After that, she ran again, the soles of her feet scraped and bleeding from rocks and twigs. She hardly noticed.

Bursting into a glade, she staggered to a halt, panting. She could hear whistles through the forest off to one side. At first, she thought it was for her escaped comrades. But as the sounds drew nearer and broadened to either side, the sickening reality became clear: somehow, they were tracking her.

Twisting around, Ten’lassen grabbed the shackle on her ankle—the shackle the two Sapphanese merchants had insisted she wear. As she struggled to move it, she caught a glimpse of markings on the inside.

For the first time, icy knots of panic twisted in her abdomen. Grabbing a sharp rock, she beat at the shackle. Then she used a stick, trying to force it between her skin and the metal. She continued casting about, but there was nothing else to try. In a frenzy, she twisted around, latching her teeth around the restraint, but the smooth metal held firm. Finally, she fell back, her heart pounding.

Fweeee! Fweeee! The whistles were even closer now. Ten’lassen stared at the shackle, then scrambled up. Unless she found help, it was only a matter of time before they caught her.

She pushed on, hoping that, if nothing else, she would help the enslaved tribe escape. Although if their shackles also had marks, the slaver guards would catch up.

The whistles shrieked again, and then the first shouts became audible, washing over Ten’lassen like ice water. Still, she ran, scrambling up a hill and into a pine grove. From there, she looked back, spotting the glowing lights of the slaver torches. She scanned the surrounding treetops in every direction. There was no help; not a single building or light shone, save for the trackers’ lights. She was entirely alone.

Too much is at stake to fail. She whispered the words, almost like a prayer, between her haggard breaths. And like a prayer, it galvanized her on. Pulling herself up, she took off again, flashing between the trees like a white doe on inky canvas.

Chapter 1

A Chance Encounter

Ryn burst through a side street onto Passenger’s Road. The avenue fared better than Derrow’s haphazard alleys, leaving no chance of it abruptly stopping at a house. She took off, her chest aching as she tried to run and quell her laughter at once.

Ryn was in her current predicament because she had pulled something of a prank, one that Bardwin ep Gelmets had not taken well. What began as a simple matter of revenge—he had destroyed her fort out in the woods, after all—was not received in the joking spirit she initially hoped for. Admittedly, layering Bardwin’s lunch with mud might be seen as pushing things, but she viewed the deed as appropriate for all the hassle it cost her and Arto to rebuild their hideout. The prank made Bardwin livid.

That was yesterday. Since then, Bardwin had somehow figured out who the culprit was. She suspected a mole, but that could wait until later. The older boy was still hard on her heels, so she needed to focus on escaping.

He had gained some ground on the open stretch. Changing tactics again, Ryn dodged into an alley and put on a burst of speed. Her pace was flagging, but she knew Bardwin also had to be tiring. Pausing at the alley’s end, she chanced a look back. No Bardwin. Exploding into guilty laughter, she collapsed beside some barrels to catch her breath and get her bearings.

The sun beat down on the dusty, inconsistently sized road before her. All Derrow’s streets were odd, given that the area had built up haphazardly over time. Ryn stood up, adjusting her disheveled tunic and dusting it off. The regular busy crowd of woodcutters, farmers, and travelers flowed back and forth, getting jammed up in the usual places when the road got narrower.

Technically, she was also supposed to be busy, specifically at school, but that no longer felt like a safe option. She debated going home, then decided her family might be upset that she had skipped the town school again. Gauging the level of the sun, Ryn guessed there was about an hour left before lessons ended. She just needed to find something to amuse herself until then.

It felt odd being alone in the town. Her best friend, Arto, normally accompanied her, and together they always got into some fun mischief.

Shaking away her cobweb of thoughts, she rose to her feet, letting the late spring sunlight bathe her face as she stepped out into the road. Most of the congestion originated from one direction: the market. And given all the people, it invariably had something fun going on. Sticking to the edge of the street, she took off, her bare feet pounding over the cobblestones.

The unique blend of market smells hit Ryn long before she officially entered the boisterous town square. The market’s usual collection of pungent spices, freshly baked bread, and sweaty animals combined with all the strange smells of those passing through town. Merchants yelled their well-rehearsed, honeyed lines, while those without proper shops circled the busy plaza, hawking their wares to anyone who would listen.

Casting her gaze across the writhing sea of bodies, Ryn fought her way along the square’s outskirts to a quiet, inclined area, fit with three trees and a bench. It was an ideal place for overseeing the market’s activities, a favorite of hers and her friends.

Ryn ascended the hill, only to find a girl and boy staring out at the market from behind cover. The girl had short brown hair, a shade darker than Ryn’s, and eyes of a similar brown. The boy also sported a mop of dark hair, but his eyes were a wonderful golden amber. Ryn’s initial surprise turned to delight; it was two of her friends. Arto, Till!

The boy, Arto, looked up from where he was hiding, delight blossoming on his face. Ryn! See, Till, I told you she’d come here.

Tilleno, an older town girl who was also a friend of Ryn’s, looked up, motioning for her to join them. Are you alone? Bardwin was furious about the whole trick thing you pulled, and Mister Norenger said he was very disappointed. He canceled class for the rest of the day.

Ryn fought to hide a grin. Well, it wasn’t all bad, then. It was just to get back at Bardwin for the fort thing, Till. He’ll be fine. A bit of mud never hurt anyone.

It didn’t bring your fort back to pull another prank. It just keeps the hostility going, Tilleno persisted. And you know, some of us actually enjoy our tutoring, Ryn. It’s a privilege to have Mister Norenger here. You know he’s not staying long. You should try to learn as much as you can, like us.

Arto sat cross-legged, his back resting against the old bench seat. Well, it’s all behind us now. There’ll be more schooling tomorrow, so no actual harm done. And anyway, now Ryn’s here!

She settled beside her friend. Right. What are you two doing here? Were you waiting for me?

Tilleno giggled, pointing towards the market. We were spying. Look at that!

An ornate traveling carriage nestled alongside the buildings that framed the town square ahead of them. It resembled that of a noble’s, standing on four large wooden wheels and sporting a fresh coat of paint. It was in pristine condition, as though it had hardly touched the dirt and mud of the road. To Ryn, it seemed out of place. Cold and aloof, even sterile.

Arto ducked lower, pointing towards the scene. Look, there she is!

A woman had exited the carriage. She was striking, her shoulder-length, silvery blonde hair curly and wild as it tumbled down her nape. Her skin, too, was a startlingly pale hue. She seemed almost otherworldly, like a ghost. Ryn had never seen someone like her before. When she finally found her voice, it came as an awed whisper. Who’s that?

That’s what we’re trying to figure out, Tilleno said, clapping her hands together in delight. Isn’t she marvelous? Do you see her hair? She looks like a fairy, or a princess, or maybe both!

Arto leaned his hands on the bench, resting his chin on his interwoven fingers. I think she’s from the north, probably Visantet.

Till’s eyes shone. Maybe she’s from the mountains. She’s a fairy princess, and she flew from her mountain kingdom to visit the world down here. Doesn’t that sound lovely? I think that sounds lovely.

Watching almost absentmindedly, Ryn glimpsed a shackle attached to the stranger’s ankle. Her chest tightened. "Look, there’s a cuff around her ankle, and she’s wearing little more than rags. You don’t think she’s a…a slave, do you?"

Tilleno barked out a surprised laugh. A slave! There aren’t any slaves in Merwen. You know that. I think my idea is much nicer.

Arto stood up beside Ryn, his eyes locked on the scene. I like your idea more, too, Till. But I think Ryn might be right. You know how my father’s a miner? Well, we’ve lived further northwest when that’s where the work is, and you sometimes see Neunethens up there with their slaves. They’re allowed to bring them over the border if they get special rights, I think.

Till shivered. That’s awful. That’s really, really awful. How can they get away with that? Why are they here?

Feeling sympathy for her friend, Ryn tried to pull her away. Let’s go somewhere else. I don’t like it either.

Surprisingly, the older girl stood her ground. No, hold on. See that symbol on the side of the carriage? It’s a teardrop sapphire. That means it’s the Sapphanese Guild from Visantet.

Arto blinked, his eyebrows shooting up. How do you know all that, Till? I can hardly remember what the Sapphanese Guild is.

A bit of color entered Tilleno’s face, and she tried to hide a smile. Oh, well, you know. I guess I keep track. Here, let’s see if we can help her. Maybe get her some water or something.

I could go grab some from the Pennant, Arto offered. Tilleno’s family ran the largest inn in Derrow, which was, not by coincidence, near the market district. The boy rose to leave, then hesitated, obviously reluctant to miss out on the spectacle.

Ryn pulled her gaze away to look at her friend. So you think she’s a slave too, then?

Tilleno grimaced. You were right about her clothes. I doubt they would have her that poorly dressed if she were a servant—and certainly not wearing a shackle. From what I remember, certain countries, like Visantet and Neuneth, get special rights on slaves as long as they’re not from the Republic or Haskepia.

Fired up, Arto clenched his fists. We’ve got to help her escape, then! This might be her only chance before they take her back to Visantet. We could help give her a real chance at freedom!

Hearing the words that she had been too scared to say aloud, Ryn felt a thrill of nervous excitement course through her body. I’m in! Look, she’s on her own. If we—

Tilleno laughed in disbelief, cutting her off. Wait, hang on a minute! Are you out of your minds? You can’t just break out a slave! Whether or not we like it, she’s the merchants’ property under Visantet law. Besides, she was probably a warrior taken in battle. Or even worse, a criminal.

Ryn deflated. She knew she wouldn’t have gone through with it, anyway, but it did not shake her sense of helplessness. It’s just not fair. What if she’s not a criminal? What if they took her against her will and she wants to get back to her people?

Then you could rest easy knowing you helped her, Tilleno replied, adding sharply, That is, if you had time to rest with the law after you. Why do you even care so much, Ryn? Just another spur-of-the-moment decision?

She slouched on the bench, scuffing her toe on the ground and watching the patterns it made. I don’t know…it just seems wrong, I guess. Don’t you care too? You were talking about helping her just a moment ago.

Tilleno patted her shoulder. I was suggesting we find her something to eat, that’s all. I think enslavement is wrong too, but it’s not our place to go above the law to change that. We’d only get in trouble ourselves; this isn’t like a game.

Ryn continued her pattern on the ground, pondering her friend’s words. After a long moment, Arto shook his head. You’re right, Till. I guess I just got swept up in it all, and I think Ryn did, too. I wish there was something we could do, though.

How about my idea of giving her some food and water? the older girl suggested. Then we could help in our small way, and maybe she’d tell us a story about where she’s from.

Ryn finally looked up from her foot sketches. That’s a good idea, Till. I volunteer to go talk to her.

Tilleno looked askance at her. All right—just no crazy exploits. Arto, can you go get some food and water from the Pennant? Just say I asked for it. Ryn, you go talk to her, and I’ll watch from here. Good luck!

With each step Ryn took towards the striking foreigner, her courage faltered. The comforting barrier of the crowd between them had all but vanished. Her heart pounded with a mixture of fear and excitement, the two swirling together and catching in her throat. But she couldn’t go back now.

Pulling her mind back to the present, she glanced over her shoulder, curious to see if Tilleno was watching her progress. She was. Waving at her in a painfully obvious manner, her friend jabbed a finger towards the stranger. Breathing a sigh, Ryn turned back around. A gap had just appeared in the milling people, and seizing her chance, she shot forward. Darting around the lumbering adults, she emerged unscathed, now within sight of her target.

The woman was still seated, which confused Ryn; other slaves she had seen were usually toiling at one task or another for their owners. The stranger’s mouth moved, as though she were murmuring to herself, and her eyes scanned the crowd. And so, mustering up her courage, Ryn approached.

It was the wrong time to move. A solid force collided with her, sending her reeling and almost introducing her to the grimy market road. Managing to retain her footing, she swung around. Her attacker was a tall, reed-thin man wearing a green-feathered hat. After retrieving a parcel from the ground, he took a second to look her over, then spun away, muttering something about clumsiness and stupidity as he disappeared down the street.

Ryn dusted herself off, wondering if the man had been referring to her or himself. As she tried to regain her bearings, a voice pierced through the market chatter.

It vas his fault, you know.

She turned, startled to find that she was now much closer to the strange woman. And more alarmingly, it was the foreigner who had just spoken. Frozen to the spot, Ryn could only stare as she took in the details of the imposing figure before her. A scar that ran from under the foreigner’s jawline to just below her left eye, marring her otherwise porcelain features. The terrible injury was recent; the surrounding skin still showed the pinkness of a fresh wound. Yet somehow, this was not what caught Ryn’s attention most. That became immediately clear as she met the woman’s eyes. They were a deep blue, bordering on purple, and seemed to whisper strange secrets, pulling her in. Ryn felt as though the eyes pierced into her soul, chillingly intimate and yet somehow intoxicating.

The woman glanced away, and like a sudden, much-needed intake of air, Ryn’s mind restarted itself, almost like she had awoken from a deep sleep. As the last few moments returned to her, she remembered the foreigner had spoken. She swallowed, her voice unsteady. Uh, what?

Smiling, the stranger shaded her eyes against the harsh sunlight. Ze man. He ran into you. Vasn’t looking vhere he vas going.

Since it was too late to escape, Ryn crept forward, her cheeks aflame. Oh. Uh, right. Her responses were inane, not to mention rude, but it took all her strength to manage the use of speech at all.

After an awkward pause, the woman spoke again. Do you live in zis town?

N-no, but I live nearby and visit a lot, Ryn managed, her heart beating a thousand times faster than it should. Still, the words were coming a little easier now. The trick was to avoid eye contact; the woman’s stare was so intense that she would lose her train of thought.

The fair-haired foreigner leaned forward on her crate. Good! And vhat is your name?

Ryn, she mumbled. She initially had hoped that if she spoke to the stranger, it might ease her apprehension—or at least confirm whether she was going to stick around. Instead, now she was the one subject to the inquiries she had intended to make, petrified by those vivid blue eyes.

And vhat do I owe ze pleasure of your visit, Vyn?

The mispronunciation of her name snapped Ryn out of her stupor. She stumbled back a step, then straightened her posture. It’s pronounced Ryn. And, uh, I was just leaving. Spinning around, she fled, desperate for the sanctuary of the thick crowd.

The woman’s voice carried on the breeze behind her. Enjoy your day, Vyn!

Once Ryn had navigated the crowd, she paused to steady her breathing. She felt safer with a wall between her and the woman. Her fogginess had cleared, now replaced by confusion. What had happened? Somehow, the foreigner had turned her into a dancing puppet, responding to her every whim. Ryn could blame herself, or the woman’s strange eyes, or even the heat of the day, but none of these answers felt satisfactory. Feeling a headache coming on, she massaged her temples, fighting to keep her balance as she crested the hill. Tilleno was still there, swinging her feet on the bench and looking bored.

What happened? I lost you in all those people. Was she friendly?

Ryn collapsed beside her friend; there was an uncomfortable churning in her stomach. She clamped a hand over her mouth, swallowing hard. Do…do Visantets have special powers with their eyes? I’ve never felt that way before. They were all weird and got swirly if I looked at them too long. I…I might be sick.

Tilleno was still peering out at the marketplace. But upon hearing this last comment, she whipped around, giving Ryn her full attention. She took her friend’s arm. Come on, my family’s inn isn’t far. We can get you a nice place to sit and maybe some cold water. Deep breaths. That’s it.

Each step felt nauseating at first, but after leaving the market, the feeling began to dissipate. As breathing became easier, Ryn stopped her friend with a hand. I’m doing better now, Till, thanks. You go ahead, tell Arto what happened. I think I’ll just head home.

Doubt flickered in her friend’s eyes, but Tilleno relented. Ryn took her time walking home, trying to move on from the strange encounter that dogged her mind.

Chapter 2

Caught

The following morning, Ryn raced through her chores at record speed. Everything went smoothly—until she needed to drop off a water jug in the kitchen. Her mother, a discerning woman, immediately detected that something was up. She caught Ryn’s arm as she hurtled around the room.

Goodness! What’s the hurry? Last I heard, nothing’s happening to tomorrow’s sun.

Ryn impatiently pulled free of her mother’s grasp. I know that. There’s just something I need to do in town before it’s too late.

Eyebrow raised, her mother watched as she collected fruit, nuts, and half a loaf of bread into a small sack. Well, if it means you’ll always get your responsibilities done this early, I can hardly complain. But you would tell me if something’s going on, wouldn’t you?

Teetering on a stool, Ryn pulled down a canteen to fill with water. She considered revealing her encounter with the strange Visantet, then determined it would eat up precious time. Besides, nothing unlawful was going to happen. Of course. I’m fine.

As she flew from the room, her mother shouted after her, Be back before supper!

As she ran, Ryn tried to stymie her nagging thoughts; if she listened to them, she knew she’d go back. But what was the harm? She merely wanted to see if the woman was still there and perhaps find some closure for her feelings. So she pushed on, adjusting her grip on the sack of offerings.

The day was unusually warm, heralding that summer would soon grace the region with its presence. Ryn was panting by the time she reached the market square, her laden sack slung over one shoulder. She paused to catch her breath, blinking as she searched the rowdy scene. The corner of a building obscured her view of where the carriage had been. She padded forward, her heart thrumming faster of its own accord. A tremor shook her hands, almost dislodging the sack, and she paused. A flood of doubt surged within her. Perhaps she was making a mistake.

Standing there in the dusty bustle of the market, so close, curiosity won. I can always turn around. Sucking in a breath of air, she poked her head around the building.

The woman was absent, but the ornate traveling carriage sat where it had the previous day. Since it was the traditional breakfast time, there were fewer people around, even in the market. Ryn found herself creeping towards it once more; the movement felt almost involuntary, as though invisible fingers were dragging her forward.

Ten paces from the carriage. Still hearing and seeing nothing, Ryn’s courage grew. Perhaps the woman was inside? She ascended the three steps to the driver’s bench. A door stood there behind it, closed. She raised her hand to knock. The air seemed thick, her clenched fist hovering a hair’s breadth from the polished boards. Swallowing hard, she forced it forward with an extra push of will. Thud!

Panicked, she scrambled back, ready to run, adrenaline surging back into her body. But there was no answer. She waited a moment longer, head upturned towards the foreboding portal. Still nothing. Her confidence returning, she slunk back up. The door featured a thick padlock on the outside, but it had been left unlocked. After another glance around, she gently pushed on the door. It opened with the slightest creak, revealing a simple, comfortable interior: a cot of two beds, a rug, some chests and crates, and a lantern hanging from the ceiling. Beyond that, the darkness became too thick for the slanting light to penetrate.

After a cursory glance around, Ryn crossed the threshold into the room. She kept the door open to offer some illumination, then began examining the rest of the area.

A set of metal bars divided the carriage into two sections: the front, where Ryn was, and the back, where a series of makeshift straw beds lay. There was one door built into the bars separating the space, and another at the back of the carriage. There was also a chain, secured to the bars that divided the area, with a collar at one end.

Ryn’s stomach clenched, and her chest prickled with unease. That was for the woman. It proved that she and Arto were right; the stranger was a slave. But where was she now?

Checking around her side of the room for a moment, Ryn decided she had overstayed her welcome; she was pushing her luck far enough already. The whole place made her uneasy, and the danger was not worth whatever closure she sought. Feeling full of more questions than answers, she sighed, turning to leave.

She had only taken a few steps, however, when two things caught her attention. First, now that she had turned to face the door, she noticed the edge of something whitish-tan just visible tucked between the floorboards. Second, and more alarming, she saw two blue-robed individuals approaching the carriage from the market center.

While concerned about the strangers, Ryn’s curiosity proved too strong. She hesitated, then knelt and tore the scrap free before stuffing it into her sack. Then, racing to the door, she peeked out at the impending danger.

There were two newcomers, their allegiance denoted by the teardrop sapphire emblazoned on their robes: merchants of the Sapphanese Guild. They were too close now for her to escape unseen. She drew back a step, fighting against the panic that threatened to numb her mind.

Based on how they were acting, the merchants had not yet seen her. Pulling the door closed, she sought around for the deadbolt, only then remembering that a padlock secured it! Silently cursing her misfortune, she took hold of the door, pulling it shut. Her only hope was that the merchants would stay outside.

The voices drew nearer. Ryn’s heart pounded in her chest, the chill of the metal door handle seeping into her fingers. She wished she could just disappear, or that she was dreaming and would soon wake up, safe in her bed. But she wasn’t dreaming. The merchants were so close now that she could hear what they were saying, right outside the door.

…Hmm, I suppose. Though the Hornbacks could pose some serious problems. It’s a shame they’re getting so clever. Still, at least your side of things worked out. Surely that will elevate the entire mission, don’t you think?

Wood creaked as the speaker hauled themself up the steps, and then a weight pulled against the door. It opened a crack, but Ryn yanked back, keeping it shut. She felt the floorboards shift again as the speaker stepped back.

Er, Wonnel, something appears to be jammed.

What do you mean? snapped the other voice. Both were now just outside the door. If you unlocked it, then it must be working. You must not have fully unlocked it.

After a moment, the carriage shook again. Ryn braced herself as she heard the click of the key, setting her foot against the side of the door. This time it opened more, and for a second she was face-to-face with a startled, clean-shaven man. He shrieked, allowing her a much-needed second to force the door closed again.

Ryn hardly dared to breathe. Everything had fallen deathly quiet outside. Then, finally, she heard the muffled voices resume and the sound of footsteps receding into the background hum of the market. Perhaps she had frightened the man into leaving.

Knowing that staying in the carriage wasn’t an option, she chanced a peek outside. One merchant was still within view. He was speaking to some rough-looking individuals, pointing back towards her and the carriage. Words weren’t necessary for Ryn to guess their plan: they were going to get inside by any means necessary. It was time to go.

Throwing the door open, Ryn stumbled down the three narrow steps. She paused there for a moment, scanning for her best avenue of escape. That was when it all went wrong.

Like lightning, the other merchant appeared from around the carriage, springing forward and seizing her arm. She crowed triumphantly. Got her, you cur!

Panicked, Ryn writhed around, trying to dislodge the merchant’s viselike hold. She yanked back, trying to pull the merchant off balance, then lashed forward, head-butting her in the stomach. As the woman fell back with a gasp, she loosened her grip. Ryn tore free, spinning around and catapulting past a few stunned onlookers towards the refuge of the streets.

Ryn had made it only a few blocks before she heard the heavy pounding of feet behind her. A shout of Stop that girl! went up, the words forcing another torrent of energy through her as she shot through streets and alleys towards the Pennant. She ignored the burning in her chest, her feet skidding on the gravelly road. Then, rounding another bend, she finally spotted the inn.

Suddenly, she tripped, the world flipping sideways as the ground reared up to meet her. The breath was knocked from her lungs, her forearms scratched by a thousand tiny cuts as her momentum broke against the gravel and flagstones. With shaking arms, she pushed herself up, hazily taking in the flecks of blood on her wrists and hands. When she tried to rise further, a foot descended on her back, kicking her back down. A stranger dressed in brown and gray towered over her, keeping her pinned as two of the rough-looking pursuers arrived.

One thug addressed Ryn’s captor. His thick city accent, unusual to hear in Derrow, pierced through some of her pain and drew her attention. Thank you, m’lady. We caught this girl stealing from our caravan.

The woman chuckled good-naturedly, a little color entering her cheeks from the excitement. Oh, don’t mention it. Always happy to help those in need. Can’t abide thieves, myself. Although this one looks a bit young.

The other thug, a woman sporting a red bandana, grabbed Ryn’s hands and pulled her up. Hah! Well, so she would be. They like to get them young, you see. But believe me, this wretch’s heart is as black as a moonless night.

Yes, we’re grateful for your help, the other thug added.

The bandana thug cleared her gravelly throat, then pulled Ryn forward. Come on, Gab. Plenty of time to chat with the nice lady afterward.

Gab treated the woman to one last smile. Well, thank you, ma’am. I wish we had more good people like you around.

Ryn had recovered enough to find her voice. She fought against the mercenary’s hold, kicking and scratching. But I didn’t do anything wrong! You have to help me, I’m from Derrow!

Her captor delivered a savage kick to her shin, the explosion of pain it caused silencing her. Ryn felt tears appear in her eyes, black spots swimming through her vision. A note of uncertainty entered the stranger’s voice, but she hesitated only a moment, then fled into the shelter of a side street.

As the thugs hauled her away, Ryn scanned wildly for anyone she knew. But things were happening too fast, her focus continually shattered by the yanking and jostling of the thugs. It was impossible to think past the torrent of fear that crashed through her mind, too. What would happen to her? Would her family know? Would the merchants turn her into a slave? The final thought sent a deeper chill down her back, and she realized just how foolish her exploration of the carriage had been.

The male thug, Gab, jostled her again, bringing her attention back to her captors. She looked up at him, just as he glanced down at her. He instantly averted his gaze, avoiding meeting her eye. His face scrunched up unhappily, his feet dragging. "Gres, she’s only a child. Mayhaps we can say she…uh…got away. You know?"

Gres stared at him, then gave Ryn another sharp tug to keep her moving. You can’t be serious. Talking like that’s a sure way to trouble, and you know it. It ain’t our fault this urchin stole from them merchants. Just follow orders, and we’ll be fine.

Gab still looked unhappy, but to Ryn’s disappointment, did not pursue the subject further. Nonetheless, the man’s unease gave Ryn a fresh glimmer of hope. It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing. Working up a few tears was easy, as was making her dirt-streaked face appear innocent and sorrowful.

I’m sorry for looking in your carriage, sir. I didn’t steal anything, I promise. I just wanted to talk to the woman I’d seen there yesterday, and I was checking inside to see if she was in there since the door was open. Then I heard the merchants outside and…panicked. I didn’t mean to hurt anyone, though. I’m very, very sorry.

Gab made a sob, using a grimy sleeve to rub his eyes. Aww, Gres, you’re a heartless old beast. She was likely just scrounging for food! Poor tyke, I doubt she’s eaten for days. And anyhow, they didn’t store no valuables in there. They said so.

Gres jabbed a finger at her. What about that sack she had, then? I know she had a sack. Where’d she get it?

Surprised, Ryn realized that the sack was missing—it must have fallen during her escape. Thinking fast, she incorporated it into her story. "Oh, that old sack? It’s mine. I had been, uh, scavenging and begging around the market for food, and I wanted to share some with the woman I met at your carriage yesterday. We…er, that is, I really liked her and wanted to see her again today."

By this time, they had come within sight of the market. Gres broke into a fast walk, pulling Ryn after her. Then I suppose the slave’ll remember you and back up your yarn. That is, if Wonnel doesn’t have you dealt with anyway for biffing her.

Both thugs fell into a subdued silence as the blue-clad merchants came into view. There was more rough-looking muscle with them, but also the fair-haired woman Ryn had met the previous day, giving her a sliver of hope that she had at least one ally in the group.

Chapter 3

Resting with a Riddle

As they approached the carriage, the merchant Ryn had head-butted strolled over, grinning wolfishly. She stared at Ryn for a moment, then turned her attention to Gres and Gab, her expression fading. Well done, you two. Expect a bonus for this.

Gab tapped his forehead. Thankee, ma’am.

The merchant ignored him, her eyes sliding back to Ryn. "And you, cur. Explain your intrusion into the private property of the Sapphanese Guild. Now."

Gres piped up when the merchant took a breath. Begging your pardon, ma’am, but this girl told us she’s friends with your slave. Said she’d come by to share her food.

What food? snapped the merchant. Both thugs flinched back. Their reaction elicited the shadow of a smile around the merchant’s lips. She let the silence linger for a moment, then spoke. "So, upon seeing that my slave was not around to gnaw on your filthy scraps, you made yourself at home! Goodness me, why not use the beds? Oh, of course, because you were busy scurrying away with whatever you had taken. What did you steal?"

Ryn’s heart pounded; she felt her face growing hot. I didn’t steal anything! I just wanted to look inside to see if the Northerner I’d met yesterday was still there. That’s all.

The merchant cast a glance at the enslaved woman, who had crept forward to stand nearby. Is that right, One? Why was she in there?

The fair-haired woman swept her gaze over Ryn before flicking it back to the merchant. Ve haff met, your vorship. She vas here ze day before, as she says.

Then you must know why she took the liberty of searching the carriage. The merchant clapped her hands together a few times, her irritation crackling through the air. Well? Out with it!

Ryn saw the slave’s shoulders tense. I do not know, your vorship. I vas friendly vit ze child ze day previous, so perhaps she vished to see me again.

The other merchant trundled over to his companion, a frown on his shaven face. He pulled on her sleeve. Come on, Wonnel. The sooner we resupply, the sooner we can get out of this dump of a town.

Don’t rush me, Invelyn, Wonnel snapped, shoving him away. As he struggled to keep his balance, her attention flashed back to Ryn. Regardless of your motives, you attacked me during your failed getaway. I could have you charged with assault.

The enslaved woman, One, edged closer, then knelt before her mistress. "Ze fault is mine for speaking vit her, your vorship. Ze people here haff not seen many of ze Tribes, including her. She vas curious. Although I did not know she vould come again, I haff been expecting more townsfolk to pop up, as zey do."

The merchant sneered. Oh, were you? Well, isn’t that nice. Then her voice hardened. "You don’t get to expect people, One. You’re property. You serve us until we wish for you to do otherwise. Do I make myself clear?"

Ryn thought she saw One’s jaw clench, but it disappeared too quickly to be sure. You do, your vorship. I apologize.

A tense silence followed as Wonnel thought. Ryn felt like she could hear her heart beating in the stillness, her gaze shifting between the kneeling woman and the merchant. Although One was still on the ground, her arms had tensed, as though preparing for action should her mistress’s answer be unsatisfactory.

The other merchant, who had left again after Wonnel had dismissed him, now hurried back to her side. He began a whispered exchange, pointing to where a small crowd of locals had coalesced. Spotting Arto among them, Ryn felt a surge of relief flow through her weary body, melting some of the tension. As they approached, the boldest of them even followed Arto’s lead and began shouting threats.

Let her go!

Get away from that girl, or we’ll call the guards!

Get out of our town!

Ryn’s heart swelled with gratitude; she silently vowed to thank every one of the townsfolk who had come to her rescue. Wonnel stalked back over to her like an angry cat, then jabbed a finger towards the group.

I have decided that you will go with your ignorant, layabout accomplices, free of any reconciliation. But be aware, girl, I know your face. Never come here again, for I will not be so lenient next time.

One stood up. You are both vise and kind, your vorship. As she turned to follow the merchant, she looked back at Ryn, throwing her a gentle smile. It vas nice seeing you again, Vyn. You haff ze Spark of ze Birantei in you.

Although still reeling from the dangerous encounter, Ryn felt a little better with both the merchants farther away. Her own voice sounded strangely cottony to her ears. Wait, what do you mean?

As One turned back to face her, a blinding white flash filled the peripheral of Ryn’s vision. Then it was gone. Startled, Ryn twisted around, seeking the light’s source. But all she saw was the old, dusty market around her. Deciding that it could have been a reflection from the sun, she shook her head to clear it, feeling somewhat unsteady.

The woman’s response distracted her from thinking more about the feeling. I mean you are brave, zat is all. Your vriend is here, Vyn.

A hand lighted on Ryn’s shoulder, and she reluctantly allowed herself to be turned away. It was Arto, his brow tense with worry. Thank the Dwellers! Ryn, are you all right? Not waiting for an answer, he checked her over, taking in her various scrapes and bruises.

A deep breath helped disperse the feeling. After a few more, Ryn felt steady enough to address her friend’s worry, although her mind still found it difficult to concentrate. Yes, I…I think I’m fine.

Some of the crowd were people Ryn did not recognize, but many of them she did. Shopkeepers, traders, foragers, and farmers. She wanted to thank them all, but many had already begun to disperse, content with having done an anonymous good deed. To Ryn, this only made them seem more gallant.

One person who did stay, however, was a farmer Ryn’s family knew. He checked her over, his forehead wrinkled with slight severity. Feeling all right, young Ryn? I hope you didn’t do anything to deserve their ire…Hmm, like that whole boat nonsense the other day. It wasn’t like that, was it?

Arto spoke up for his friend. I doubt there’s anything Ryn could have done to deserve them interrogating her like that, sir. Besides, if they have a complaint against someone from the town, they should take it up with the authorities, shouldn’t they?

The farmer thought this over for a moment, then nodded, his bushy eyebrows raised in agreement. Yes, I suppose so. You’re a good lad, Arto. Watch after your friend and make sure she doesn’t get into any more trouble, will you? We’ve all had plenty enough of that for today.

Ryn watched the farmer go, hoping the news would somehow not reach her parents. Derrow was a small town; everybody knew everybody like they were all part of the same raucous household. Still, the farmer had a point. She had undoubtedly been involved in creating the situation. Grimacing at the thought, she let Arto pull her away.

A contemplative silence settled over them as they wound their way through the streets, Ryn feeling content to follow wherever Arto was leading them. However, as she continued to process all that had happened, questions invariably bubbled up. How did you know I was here?

Arto looked sidelong from his position beside her. "I went to see you this morning, but your mom said you had already left. So after checking the most likely places, I eventually thought you might have come back here. And when I finally did get here, I saw you were in trouble, so I got help. Doesn’t look like it was really needed, though. You and the slave seemed to have it handled."

She took her friend’s hand. Oh no, it helped a lot! It helped put pressure on them to let me go. Thank you. Caught for a moment in indecision, she turned to the boy, giving him a quick hug.

Arto blinked in surprise, a slight rosy hint to his cheeks betraying his cheery embarrassment. "Don’t mention it. I know you would have done