The Traitor Queen (The Traitor Spy Trilogy #3)(91)

A middle-aged Sachakan man lay slumped on the floor, blood seeping from a shallow cut on his arm.

Dead? Yes. Lorkin stared at the corpse and remembered the Ashaki who he and Dannyl had stayed with, when they’d first entered Sachaka. The man had been friendly and generous. Perhaps this dead man had been kind too. Perhaps he had kept slaves only because it was what powerful Sachakans like him had always done. Perhaps he would have surrendered if given the chance. Surely he didn’t deserve to die like this?

It was impossible to know. The Traitors couldn’t imprison all Ashaki and put them on trial to decide if death was an appropriate punishment. To imprison them would take too much of the Traitors’ time and energy.

The Traitors are at war with a way of life, not the individual people, but individuals will pay the price. He suspected, though, that many of the Ashaki would refuse to change their ways, even if they were given a choice.

He looked around and saw that Tyvara had picked her way across the room to one of the collapsed walls. Making his way to her, they helped each other over a pile of rubble into a courtyard. There, a richly dressed woman stood glaring at Savara, her face streaked with tears.

“The Ashaki’s wife,” Tyvara murmured. “We’re hoping it won’t be necessary to kill the women and children.”

“They won’t obey you,” the queen was saying to the woman. “You had better get used to that. My people will do what they can to protect you, but they won’t guard you day and night. The rest is up to you.”

Two Traitors stood behind the queen. As Savara turned away they moved to stand beside her. Tyvara and Lorkin walked over to join her.

“We’re done here,” the queen said. “Time to gather everyone together and move on.” She looked over her shoulder at the broken building, her expression grim. “It’s too much to hope all estates will be this trouble-free.”

More Traitors arrived. As the last pair appeared, one hurried forward to the queen.

“I just heard that Chiva’s group had to fight four Ashaki – a father and his three sons. Vinyi was killed.”

Savara stopped to regard the woman with dismay. “A loss already.” She sighed and started toward the main gates of the courtyard. As she reached it, she stopped abruptly. Lorkin looked beyond and saw what had surprised her.

A crowd of about twenty slaves – ex-slaves, Lorkin corrected – waited outside. As they saw Savara they hurried forward, stopping a few paces away. From the adoring way they looked at the Traitor queen, Lorkin expected them to throw themselves at her feet. None did, though a few looked as if they had to work hard to resist the habit, bending forward then jerking upright again.

Nobody spoke. The foremost ex-slaves glanced at each other, then one held out his wrists to the queen.

“We want to give you … we have nothing to give you … do you need to take power from us?”

Savara drew in a quick breath. “We don’t need to yet but …”

“Take it,” Tyvara murmured. “They will feel they had a part in the fight for their freedom.”

The queen smiled. “I would be honoured.” She looked down at the knife at her belt. “But not with this. This is for our enemies.”

One of the ex-slaves stepped forward. “Then use this.”

In his hand was a small knife obviously meant for a domestic task like tailoring or wood carving. Savara took it and felt the edge for sharpness. She nodded and handed it back. The man looked confused.

“You must make the cut,” she said. “I will not deliberately harm my own people.”

He ran the blade across the back of his thumb, then held out his hand to her. Touching the cut lightly, Savara closed her eyes and bowed her head. The man closed his eyes.

A short time passed. As Savara withdrew her hand she looked up at the rest of the ex-slaves. “We cannot stay long. I cannot take power from all of you.”

“Then we’ll give it to your fighters,” the first speaker declared. The rest nodded and turned their attention to the other Traitors. Lorkin noted that, as domestic knives were found to be lacking, the Traitors were handing over their own knives. When a woman offered her wrists to Lorkin he blinked in surprise.

“Um … Tyvara?”

She chuckled. “You’re one of us now,” she said. “Better get used to it.”

“Oh, that’s not the problem.” He put a hand to his sheath-less belt. “I don’t have a knife.”

She looked at him and smiled. “Then I guess we’d better see to that at the first opportunity. For now,” she looked at the man facing her with hand extended, “we’ll have to share.”

The sun was hovering above the mountains when Sonea and Regin neared the first Ashaki estate. Gold-tinged light bathed the walls the colour of old parchment. In contrast the hole in the roof was an ominous black.

The estate was swarming with people.

“Slaves,” Regin said. “Looting?”

Sonea shook her head. She could see a line of men hauling rubble out of the building. “Cleaning up.”

Regin frowned. “Surely they’d have run away when the Traitors attacked – and stayed away now they have their freedom.”

“They’ve got to live somewhere, and there’s food and shelter here. I wonder: if the Traitors win will they take over the estates or give them to the slaves?”