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against his decades of experience.
"I think we can do that," said Zaradan with another smile. "Now eat your food. My grandson will not want a scrawny wife in his bed when we get him home."
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Chapter 18
The slave revolt acted like a spark to dry tinder. By the end of the second day, Ramil had more
recruits than he could easily accommodate in the makeshift barracks around the square. Slaves
were simply walking out on their masters and presenting themselves at the market to have their
chains struck off. Nursemaids left their charges on their mistresses' doorsteps, cooks abandoned
the stoves and let the bread burn, gardeners picked up their shovels and headed to the harbor
side.
Ramil's pretense that this was all about ransoms for the rich people had worked. What he feared
most--an immediate assault by trained soldiers--had not materialized as the influential families
were concerned for the lives of their hostages. The authorities held back from a counter-attack,
believing the slaves could be bought off, separated, defeated in dribs and drabs, then executed
at their leisure. They were already devising a spectacular demise for the ringleader, something
to make all slaves in the Empire tremble. But Ramil was not worried about
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their plans; his main problem was keeping his troops focused: too many yearned for revenge
and had no vision beyond making the masters suffer.
He needed something to hold them together and raise their spirits before he attempted to take
more of the city. Sitting in the market, watching the ships at anchor down by the water only a
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few streets away, he thought he had the solution.
"So, Melletin, what do you think about taking on the pirate fleet?" he asked casually at
breakfast.
The Brigardian choked on his mouthful.
"They're sitting there like fat ducks," Ramil continued, gesturing to ten vessels tied up at their moorings. "It would be a brilliant stroke if we could sink them."
"But what about the galley slaves?" Melletin pointed out once he had found his voice. "We can't just burn them--we'll be roasting a lot of innocent men if we do that. And if we just march upon
them, the sailors will massacre us from their decks."
Ramil shook his head. "You're thinking like a soldier. I'm thinking like a devious slave trying to get even with his master."
Melletin laughed. "Are you, Prince? So what's the big idea? I assume you have one or you
wouldn't look so pleased with yourself."
"I think this is a job for the girls."
At dusk, mist rolled in from the Inland Sea, wrapping the port in its featherlight embrace. A
gaggle of pretty dockside girls sauntered up to the fleet at anchor. Two
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approached the gangplank leading to the flagship, the Bloody Spear. A bored sailor standing
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guard peered over the side and made out the comely form of a black-haired girl. She had a dark-
skinned companion swathed in a veil hovering shyly at her shoulder.
"Hey, gorgeous!" called the girl, raising her skirts to flash a shapely ankle.
"Need some company?"
The sailor glanced behind him. "Sorry, sweetheart, not allowed to have visitors on board. Not
with all the trouble yonder."
"Aw!" said Yelena. "Those cursed slaves are ruining our fun--everyone is saying the same." She minced a few steps up the plank, her friend following.
"But I wouldn't have thought you would be a spoilsport."
The sailor scratched his head. "What about my boss?"
Yelena put her hand on the rail. "Don't worry about him," she said breathily.
"My friend will see to him."
The veiled girl nodded and dropped onto the deck. She was surprisingly tall for a woman, but
then the sailor knew that Captain Jirk liked an armful. He beckoned the pretty one towards him.
"He's in his cabin," he told the dark-skinned girl. "Say I sent you with my compliments."
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The second girl padded off in a rustle of silk and cloud of cheap perfume.
"Now, what about you, my lovely?" the man said, reaching eagerly towards Yelena to pull her
into a hug. But he never touched her. Everything went black and he ended up headfirst in the
water with a quiet splash. Yelena ran across the deck and swiftly despatched a
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second sailor on watch. A muffled cry came from the captain's cabin--Ramil emerged wiping his
sword on his dress.
"Don't do that!" said Yelena. "You'll ruin the material."
The two "girls" crept down the ladder to the lower deck. The smell of the pit holding the galley slaves was worse than the pens in the market. Four sailors were playing cards on an upturned
box while their slaves slept over their oars. Yelena approached, swinging her hips provocatively.
"Hello, lads, looking for some fun? My friend and I, we're full of surprises."
A big bald-headed man nudged his card partner. "Things are looking up, Toburt. The captain's
sent us a present."
A bell outside began to sound the alarm. Yelena and Ramil exchanged a glance: one of the
attacks must have been spotted. Oarsmen stirred in their seats. Thinking quickly, Yelena
grabbed on to the big man's arm, pretending to quiver with fear.
"What's that?" she gasped. "Don't tell me the filthy slaves are making more trouble! Oh no, what's going to become of us?"
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There were yells and cries outside. Toburt and the other two men grabbed their swords and
disappeared up on deck. The bald man hung back a
moment to pat Yelena condescendingly on the rump.
"Stay here, darling; I'll go sort it out and be back to look after you."
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"Perhaps I should look after you now," Yelena said, moving in closer.
The man grunted and fell back, clutching at the dagger slipped between his ribs, his eyes wide
with surprise.
Yelena rubbed her bloodied hands on his shirt with disgust as the slaves cheered and rattled
their chains.
"I hope he deserved it," she said wistfully as Ramil unchained the first bank of slaves.
The first oarsman limped forward and kissed her hand. "He did, miss, a nasty brute. Even his
wife'll thank you."
Ramil put an arm around her. He knew how she felt. Taking a life in cold blood like that made
you feel no better than the enemy.
"I'm sorry, Yelena. Perhaps I should've come up with a different plan," he said as the slaves 322
rushed the ladder, sweeping the remaining sailors out of their path.
Yelena straightened her shoulders. "No, Ram, it's what I was trained to do.
I'm saving far more lives than I'm taking--that's the main thing."
Ramil kissed her brow, honoring her courage. "Come then, let's see how the others have fared."
From the evidence of the dockside, the operation had largely gone to plan.
One ship had rumbled the fake "girls" and put up a fight, but that was soon ended by an influx of slaves freed from the other ships. Ramil watched with satisfaction as the freed men set about
firing their former prisons. They knew exactly
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what to do, doubtless having dreamt of such a day for years. It seemed only right that they
should have the pleasure.
March had arrived and with it the spring. The meadows and forest were bursting with blossom