defense."
"Who put you in charge?" growled a stocky man, his face showing the sign of many strokes of
the lash. "We're free. We should take what we can get and run for it!"
"If you do that, they'll hunt you down and you'll be standing back here next week or hanging at a crossroads!" Ramil replied. "They expect us to act like mindless slaves, weak because we act alone, scattering when we come up against opposition. I say we should act like free men and
choose to fight shoulder to shoulder."
Yelena strode forward with a party of girls at her back.
"And free women, Prince," she shouted. "We're with you." She slapped the stocky man on the chest scornfully. "Are you lot so spineless that you'll flee at the first sign of a real fight?"
"You heard the ladies," said Ramil. "Fergox has soldiers, but they only fight because they're paid to do so. Every house in this city has slaves who'll fight for their freedom. We've more allies than
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we can count if we see what we've started through to the end." He held the gaze of the objector.
"But I don't want people I can't trust at my back. If you're with me, good; if you're not, you'd
better run because it's going to get very hot around here very soon."
Melletin jumped up on a barrel beside Ramil. "Brigardians, are you with the Dark Prince?"
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"Aye!" shouted his countrymen.
"What about you other men?" Ramil asked, looking across the crowd of faces drawn from all
parts of the Empire.
The slave who had challenged him took one look at Yelena, then raised his hand. "I'm in. It
seems you might know what you're doing after all."
Ramil grinned. "I can't promise that--but I can promise that I'll buy you a drink if we're still alive by the end of tomorrow!"
This met with a cheer and a laugh.
"Now I can't talk to all of you. Form yourselves into your pen groups and appoint a leader. He or she will be your commander. Send them to me.
Melletin, can you and the Brigardians stand guard while we get this rabble sorted?"
"Aye, Captain." Melletin ran to the main barricade, swiftly organizing his men to defend all approaches to the market. Ramil was thankful he had such a seasoned resistance fighter on his
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side; Melletin knew exactly what to do.
Search parties were sent to clear any hostile forces from the buildings surrounding the square
and a watch established on the upper floors to give warning of any attack.
Ramil was thinking fast. He now had a new advantage he hadn't anticipated, thanks to Yelena's
swift action to take the merchants hostage. He
approached the pen where they were being held. His merchant-mistress spat at his feet. Ramil
ignored her, looking for someone who showed more presence of mind.
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"Is anyone here fit to deal with me?" he asked in his most regal tone.
"Fit to deal with slave trash?" howled the old woman, her priceless silk dress now smeared with dirt. "I think not."
Ramil gave her a humorless smile. "Dark Prince, I think you'll find is a more accurate term,
madam. But, ladies and gentlemen, I haven't got all day. Who shall speak on your behalf?"
The merchants exchanged a few shifty glances, then a man wearing the chain of a city guild
leader stepped forward.
"I will treat with you," he said stiffly. "Know now, slave, that if you surrender, I will see that you are dealt a merciful death. Your allies will be spared but returned to their masters for
punishment."
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"That is very generous of you," Ramil replied with an ironic bow. "But I think you do not understand your position. I am the one offering you mercy. Send a message to your houses that
we will accept a ransom of a hundred thousand heralds for each of you. If the city guard try to
attack us, then sadly you will be executed before they can reach you."
"You would not dare!" exclaimed the guild leader.
"Me? No. I have no taste for taking lives. But if I see the troops coming for you, I will not stand between you and your old slaves. If you were merciful masters, then maybe you have nothing to
fear; if not, then ..." He left the sentence hanging, letting them imagine what their people would do to them.
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The guild leader struggled with his outrage for a moment but then jerked his head in a nod. "We
will send the message. But I cannot be answerable for the reply."
"And I cannot be answerable for the slaves you have nurtured in your households. We are well
matched."
Ramil strutted away, pretending more confidence than he felt. He had no intention of allowing
even these people to be cut down in cold blood.
However, he saw no advantage in letting the old masters know this; they deserved to sweat a
little.
"Now, where are my commanders?" Ramil asked, rubbing his hands together in anticipation as
he rejoined Gordoc. The big man was outside, surrounded by a dozen men and women, backs
straight and eyes aglow with a combative light for the first time since they had been taken into
slavery. It took Ramil a second to realize something: he was actually enjoying himself.
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Chapter 17
Zeliph lost patience with his silent guest after two days. He was eager to settle the matter of the
horse's ownership so he could claim it for himself.
Thunder was the kind of mount a rider in the Horse Followers would sell all he possessed to
own. Ignoring his wife's protests that the girl was still unwell, he marched into her chamber and
dragged Tashi from the bed. He brought her, still trailing her sheet, into the main part of the tent
in front of a meeting of tribesmen. She was clad in one of the men's shirts, from which she had
refused to be parted to put on more suitable women's robes, and her legs were visibly trembling
with weakness.
"As headman, I ask the tribe to give me the blue roan as a prize," declared Zeliph. "This girl says the horse is not hers and she is clearly not fit to own it any more than the clothes she wears.
Therefore the stallion should go to me as I caught him on our pastures and brought him here."
He sat down as if the matter was done with. Silence fell for a moment, broken only by the swish
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of fly whisks as the men brushed the buzzing nuisances away.
"But what of the pale girclass="underline" what will you do with her?" asked an old man seated near Tashi.
Zeliph shrugged and gave a languid wave to the door. "She can come or go as she wishes. She is
touched in the head and talks nothing but nonsense when she talks at all. She is of no account."
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"But where am I to go if you take my horse?" Tashi asked, her voice so quiet it was barely
audible.
The old man cupped his ear. "There, Zeliph, she's clever enough to understand that you're taking
from her. Are you sure she's touched?"
"What does it matter? She's a stranger and a woman--she's nothing to us.
She can walk home if she must, unless one of you wants to offer her a place in your tent. I've had
enough of her in mine."
"I'll offer her a place if your hospitality is so deficient," said a new voice in the entrance. The men looked up and hurriedly rose to their feet, bowing low.
Zeliph's face wrinkled in a worried frown as the newcomer swept in to take a seat next to him.