“Leave that,” Frentis barked. “Search the villa. If he hasn’t fled, the owner will be in the upper rooms. Draker, take Thirty-Four and gather the slaves.”
“Redbrother.” Lekran stood at the arched entrance to the villa’s courtyard, wiping blood from his axe, his expression dark. “Something you should see.”
The man had been strong, the muscle on his arms and back clearly revealed as he hung from two posts, dried blood streaking his wrists where the shackles held him upright. His head hung forward, still and lifeless, the length of his broad back striped with two-day-old whip strokes. Frentis noted his left foot was stunted, the front half having been hacked off at some point, the standard punishment for slaves who run from their masters, death being the fate of any who run twice.
Opposite the dead man a young woman had been chained to another post, arms drawn back and legs tied in place so she couldn’t turn, a leather gag secured about her mouth. She was partially naked, breasts and shoulders showing the signs of repeated beatings. She collapsed in Illian’s arms as Lekran smashed the chains with his axe and the sister cut away her bonds. She choked on the water from Illian’s canteen, an expression of utter confusion on her face fading slowly as she took in the sight of Frentis, her eyes tracking over his garb, the blue cloak and the sword on his back. “Brother?” she asked in Realm Tongue, her accent unmistakably Asraelin.
“Yes, Brother Frentis.” He knelt at her side. “This is Sister Illian.”
The woman’s head lolled, her gaze losing focus. “Then I am finally dead,” she said with a shrill laugh.
“No.” Illian took her hand, squeezing it gently. “No. We are here. Come to save you at our queen’s orders.”
The woman stared at her, apparently unable to comprehend the reality of her survival. “Jerrin,” she said after a moment, raising herself up, gazing around with a wild animation. “Jerrin. Did you save him too?” She stopped as her gaze found the man hanging from the posts. She sagged in Illian’s arms and voicing a despairing wail. “I told him we shouldn’t run,” she whispered. “But he couldn’t stand the thought of him touching me again.”
Frentis turned at the sound of a fearful whimper. A plump little man in loose robes of black silk stood trembling beside the ornate fountain in the centre of the courtyard, his chins bulging somewhat as Master Rensial pressed his sword blade harder, forcing him to stand on tiptoe. “Where are the horses?” he demanded.
The plump man raised a shaking hand, pointing to an arched doorway off to the left. Rensial raised a questioning eyebrow at Frentis. He turned back to the woman they had freed, seeing the depth of hatred in the stare with which she fixed the plump black-clad. “Not just yet, Master,” Frentis told him. “If you don’t mind.”
• • •
They found another six Realm folk among the slaves, none more than forty years in age, all possessing skills of some kind. “Jerrin was a wheelwright,” his wife explained. Her name was Lissel, a chandler from Rhansmill come to live in Varinshold at her husband’s insistence. “Money grew tight after the desert war. Varinshold would be our fortune, he said.” She began to voice another of her shrill laughs but mastered the impulse with a visible effort, her gaze moving to the villa’s owner, now stripped naked and chained to the posts where her husband had died. Thirty-Four had questioned him for a short time, his skills unnecessary as the black-clad had been all too eager to cooperate.
“He tells of a larger estate twelve miles to the east,” Thirty-Four reported. “The master there is a renowned breeder of horses and has also purchased many slaves from the recent influx.”
“The nearest garrison?” Frentis enquired.
“Ten miles north of here, a single battalion of Varitai, though fewer in number than they should be. It seems the Council has been concentrating forces on the capital recently.”
“Not for much longer.” Frentis took the whip they had found on the overseer’s body. He had tried to run, displaying an impressive turn of speed for such a large man, but Slasher and Blacktooth were faster. Frentis placed the whip in Lissel’s lap. “I leave this matter in your hands, mistress.”
