A single, loud note carried over the waters of the Serpent, and J'role raised his gaze to see the blue and green riverboat approaching. The people on the dock began to bustle-about, preparing themselves and their wares. Mordom, however, stood placidly, almost like a ruler of the land, his body straight, but unconcerned.
Within a few minutes the riverboat docked, and a dozen t'skrang men and women dressed in outlandishly gaudy colors swung down to the docks on the ropes that hung about the ship. On their hips they wore scabbards with thin swords. The sailors cheered and cried out in excitement, as if they loved nothing more in life than docking ships. They grabbed lines and tied them to the dock's pylons; they prepared the entrance ramp to the ship's belly; they danced a little.
Seen closer now, the strange bodies of the creatures disturbed J'role. Their long, thin tails twitched back and forth, and he was keenly aware of the long row of bones that must extend from the sailors' spines down to the tips of the tails. Their large eyes moved independently of each other, taking in details from all over the dock. And as they stood stock-still in neat rows, the jerky, segmented movements of their hands, necks, and arms were boldly accentuated.
Mordom stood unimpressed during the whole proceeding. One man, his cart stacked with goods, and two orks, greeted several sailors with handshakes, receiving big smiles in return. The reptilian features of the t'skrang looked friendly somehow. They had large eyes, like a child's, and their snouts were rather cute.
As soon as they had secured the riverboat at the dock, the sailors suddenly leaped around and did handsprings and backflips, eventually forming up into two neat rows running the length of the dock. At one end of the rows stood all the merchants and traders and potential passengers. The rows led to a Ramp that had extended out from the ship and now rested on the dock.
Without warning the sailors whipped out their swords and cried, "Ah-ha!"
Everyone on the dock jumped except the merchant with the cart, the two orks, and Mordom, presumably because the first three had seen the display before and because little could startle Mordom. All the sailors looked up, and everyone followed their gaze.
Standing atop the highest point on the ship-a pole towering above all the others on the uppermost deck-was a female t'skrang wearing at huge hat with green flowers attached to one side. She was dressed in garments of bright purple and green, with big, puff sleeves and leggings. With sword upraised in one hand, she took the end of a rope in her other and jumped off the pole.
She plummeted down, arcing her back and curving away from the pole until the rope snapped taut. Then she swung back up. When the rope was almost horizontal, she let go and flew through the air, her arms swept back, suddenly as elegant as a sparrow. Her hat, tied with a string under her chin, fluttered wildly behind her head. She caught another rope, and swung around again. Then another and another. Her motions caught everyone who watched her off guard. Just when everyone was sure she would continue to swing left, she would grab hold of a rope and toss herself around to the right. When they thought she was about tot drop fifty feet to her doom, she startled by suddenly grabbing a rope and swinging up higher than she'd been before. J’role became dizzy watching her, but the site was so exhilarating. Motion was hers to command.
She caught the end of one rope and suddenly careened toward the docking swinging in so low that J'role was convinced she would slam into the deck. But she scrambled up a few feet along the rope as she swung down, rushing in between the two rows of sailors, all of whom stood at rigid attention. They did not so much as flinch as her feet ran along the deck and her momentum carried her into two forward flips and finally an astounding double roll, her sword tucked in tight across her stomach. She landed on her feet with perfect balance, raised her sword high, and shouted, "Ah-ha!" with tremendous mirth.
Around her the other sailors echoed her cry.
"Greetings, fellow travelers," she said in dwarven, her accent strange to J'role's ear. "I am Captain Patrochian, and this is my ship, the Breeton. With proper passage you will be lucky enough to sail aboard her!"
She greeted the man with the cart warmly, then the two orks the same way. All of them paid her coins, which the captain dropped into a sack held by a sailor to her right. J'role heard snippets of the conversations, in which the captain asked the passengers what they carried and then set a price. One person after another paid the captain, and then walked up between the double rows of sailors, some carrying their cargo by themselves, others getting help from the sailors who dropped down from the ship.
Mordom and his party were last, and J'role saw the captain's body stiffen as Phlaren approached with his prisoners.
"What cargo have you?" asked the captain.
"None but ourselves," said Mordom. "That is, me and my two companions, Phlaren and Slinsk Gore."
"And these three?" she asked.
"These are our payment. We are currently short on funds …"
A tremor ran down the length of the two rows of sailors, like wind traveling through rice stalks.
”They are slaves?" The question was uttered so softly that J'role barely heard it.
Mordom paused, as if confused by the question. "Yes. Slaves. They are in excellent condition, I assure you."
J'role remembered hearing about slavery from his father and the others while he lived in the kaer. The thought of slavery had always terrified him. Being trapped by another.
"There is no slavery in Barsaive," said Captain Patrochian. "You have made a mistake.
Release these people at once." She did not move, and neither did her crew. It was a test, J'role knew immediately. She wanted to see what Mordom would do. The slaves themselves turned their heads cautiously toward Mordom.
"I …," Mordom began slowly. "It is not my place to correct you. But Theran law is explicit on the issue of slavery. It is allowed. It is common."
Thera! J'role had not given the old empire much thought since the days of his father's stories back in the kaer. The Theran Empire had extended over the entire world. It was the Therans who had encouraged local trade, and thus made the dwarven tongue the common language of the land. But when the Scourge ended and everyone emerged from their shelters, no word came of the Empire. Years passed, and everyone eventually came to assume that the core of the Theran Empire, far to the south, had fallen prey to the Horrors. It was sad, for the Therans had spread the glory of art and architecture throughout the world. But it was also a relief, J’role remembered, for the issue of slavery did not sit well with many of the people of his land. But now Mordom called upon Theran law to justify his actions. Was the Empire really gone?
The captain cocked her head to one side, examining Mordom carefully with her large blue eyes. "Strange that you should cite Theran law. There is no Theran law in Barsaive.
The dwarfs rule this land, and they have declared slavery an offense punishable by death.
Free these people."
Mordom actually took a step back in surprise. "Captain, I know the Therans have not yet returned, but Barsaive is a province of the Theran Empire. Until Thera chooses to release-"
"The decision has already been made, magician. Those who wish to live in the Theran Empire should travel south. As for we natives of Barsaive, King Varulus of Throal has made his intentions quite clear. We are free of Theran rule and laws."
"Free! What-" Mordom caught himself, tripping on his words, and then deftly continued. "We were saved by Thera. They gave us the knowledge to build the kaers and the citadels to protect ourselves from the Horrors. They created the trade ties throughout Barsaive. There would be no Kingdom of Throal had it not been for the Therans."