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4. Maria
Clara was brought to Lared’s apartment once more. Even as she entered, he noted the frenetic pace, the
look of concern on her face.
“We don’t often get return visits so soon?” he remarked extending a hand to her.
“It’s Maria,” she blurted. “After you freed her, she did not return to the tavern.”
Lared was silent, considering.
“Irulan is a dangerous place Clara. She was freed. That is all I can do.”
He motioned his hand toward her as she fliched, drawing back.
“I want you to find her,” she snarled.
“She is not my responsibility Clara, I…”
“She had nothing to do with this, it was me you wanted,” she snapped back. “You took my body and I
agreed to it. None of this is her fault!”
“Calm down woman,” Lared spat back, staring wide eyed at her. “If you want me to help at all.”
Clara gritted her teeth, aware that she was slowly alienating perhaps the only man in Irulan that might
help her on this night. He seemed to calm a little.
“I must applaud your courage, at the very least, coming back into the prison in which, you had
previously been held in chains.”
“Please. It was my fault. It was me your men were after not her. If she has been taken, by slavers or
worse, then…” she paused. “I promised that her I would protect her.”
“And why should I, as Captain of the Riverwake Tower accede to you demands regarding your
erstwhile friend. Should I be so impressed that you promised that she would come to no harm? Irulan is
a dangerous city, and I think you might agree that you got off rather lightly. Even now you would have
found your body being chained inside a slave galley, head shaven, body branded, at the mercy of the
lash.”
Clara stared past him. “Do this for me…and you get…a person inside the thieves guild. A…spy, if you
like.” She closed here eyes, regretting the very words, even as she spoke them.
Lared, paradoxically had gained great interest at her comment.
“You would…turn your back on your own guild for a tavern wench you barely know?”
Clara nodded slowly. He reached up and touched her cheek.
“There might be hope for you yet…in my employ.” He smiled. Clara simply stared.
***
Lared had taken a few men with him, although Clara had noted, to her relief, that Mirch was not
amongst them. Even the Captain of the Riverwake Guard, she realised, does not travel the streets of
Irulan alone at night. Clara had helped determine their route, fairly confident of the streets which Maria
would have taken, which she would have believed to be safe.
Lared had enough authority to gain access to the slave pens, and thereby survey the stock. Clara was
reminded of the stench of the Riverwake as she looked at the desperate souls in the cages and pits,
bound for slavery and endless labour, although some of the women would see a worse fate, as pleasure
slaves.
As night descended, the wharf and docks were lit only by oil lamps that the watch had placed to avoid
total darkness.
“She isn’t here Clara. But that doesn’t mean that you…don’t still belong to me,” Lared grunted in the
darkness, cold now and despite the fact that he would never admit it, a little resentful that he had not
found Maria. His men stood by, awaiting commands. Clara sensed their questioning glances,
wondering if their Captain was indeed mad. None of them could remember being dragged out of the
barracks on a hunt for the friend of a mere prisoner…and a thief at that.
The silence of the night was disturbed by the rattling of chains. Galley slaves were slowly being
brought down a gangplank, being transferred from one ship to another. From the talk of the men who
guarded them, the cargo galley that they were leaving had enough rowers. Instinctively, Clara surveyed
the women. Shaven heads, ugly brands on their lower bellies, just above the hair of their womanhood.
Most were filthy, ugly whip welts across thighs and breasts and backs. She hesitated. One of the
women seemed…clean.
“Maria!”
The galley slave looked up, almost stumbling in the coffle as her ankle fetters made walking difficult
and the connecting chain moreso. It was hard to recognise the woman who she had promised to save,
with a shaven head, but even in the pale light, she saw the pathetic slave, for who she really was.
Clara ran across the dock as the slavers drew swords. Lared immediately ran after her, his men, in the
absence of any other command, drawing their weapons and accompanying him. The presence of
members of the city watch was enough to curb any immediate wish to start a fight.
“These are galley slaves. That is all!” one brave soul offered, a hand on the hilt of his curved sword.
“This one.” Lared indicated calmly.
“She was not sold to you, neither did she come into slavery by other means. She was released from my
prison.” He smiled. “That means that she was taken, by force, by you or others and forced into slavery.
Are you aware of the penalty for kidnapping in Irulan?”
The men looked at each other now, a little intimidated by the presence of a Captain of the guard.
“I…We know nothing of that sir…she is merely being transferred to another galley. She is a slave.
That is all we know.”
Clara stared reassuringly at Maria, whose eyes had a lost look, as if this event and conversation were
only delaying the inevitable for her. A life of hard labour at the oar in chains.
“You will not be taking any of my slaves Captain.”
The resonating voice came from the ship, a man bedecked in large portions of armour, his face scarred;
a veteran or mercenary who appeared to be either the ship’s enforcer, or captain. Lared looked up.
“And you are?”
“Jared Kerr, and this is my vessel. I work for the merchant’s guild and report to them only. This slave
has been on board for days.”
Maria looked genuinely terrified as she looked up, then away, as if acknowledging the presence of her
would-be rescuers might be enough to get her flogged, or worse.
“You lie sir,” Lared barked back, his voice emotionless.
One of his younger men looked to his comrades, who even now moved their hands slowly to their
weapons, aware of what was about to happen.
Kerr strode slowly down the gangplank, portions of his metal armour creaking, a gap toothed, evil
smile gracing his features. He reminded Clara of Mirch. She watched as Lared and he, focussing solely
on each other, sized each other up. Her feelings towards Lared concerned her more however and for the
first time, perhaps in her life, she felt…worried that he might lose the fight. Those feelings were, to her
at least, more horrific than anything she had felt in the Riverwake Tower.
***
Even Clara, who had seen her share of fights, though in her experience managed to stealthily avoid
them, was impressed by what had taken place hours before. It seemed that Lared, who outwardly gave
the impression of a brash bastard of the elite officer class, actually knew his way around a sword. The
fight had been brief. He was also skilled with his tongue. Clara smiled at the thought. In more ways
than one, she considered. He had goaded Kerr into drawing his weapon first, before slicing him across
the throat with a single stroke from his thin blade. No matter how many times she replayed the incident
in her mind, she could scarcely believe how fast it had happened. What the hell was a man like this
doing in charge of a rotting prison?
She heard a sound from the nearby room. Maria. Awake so soon? She rushed in to see her bald headed
friend rising from sleep.
“Did...I remember to thank you Clara?”
The tears came again as Clara approached.
“The galley. I thought I would be there forever. The goddess knows how lucky it was that they decided
to move me that night. The goddess only knows…”
Clara held her as she was racked with sobs.
***
Clara had told Lared that meeting at the Riverwake would be dangerous. She had then been invited to
his house on the other side of the city. It too was richly appointed, yet when, as she lay naked beside
him, she would broach the subject of his wealth and indeed his swordsmanship, he would rapidly
change the subject. Clearly, it was a matter which he did not want to discuss. Weeks had passed since
Maria had been freed and Clara had, on a few occasions, met with Lared to discuss his concerns over
the guild. Their relationship had blossomed to the extent that she would even tell him which areas she
might be working in so that he could arrange for the city watch to avoid them. Yet, he had taken so
little in return. She guessed that his intent was simply to contain rather than control the guild, knowing
that their presence could never truly be erased from Irulan. She t nied not to consider that perhaps she
might be the reason for his continued interest.
But on this night, in the rain, her news was too important to wait for a secret invite to Lared’s city
home. She jumped across another rooftop, feeling her toes grip the ridge tile of the warehouse roof
through the soft boots, as she approached the Riverwake Tower.
Aware that the walls were high and the guards good, even for a thief of her skill, she tried her earlier
approach of using the gate guards to relay her presence. As if briefed as to the arrival of a potential
contact, she was allowed to enter, and escorted to Lared’s apartment immediately.
“You were expecting me? I thought we had agreed that I wouldn’t be a known accomplice.”
She looked at him accusingly as he passed her a goblet of wine and ensured that the guards had gone.
“One of my men saw you on the roof of the tavern. Fear not. He alone is trusted. You seem tense.” He
ran his hand along her cheek as she felt herself soften.
“What…news I have could not wait.”
He raised an inquiring eyebrow in response as she downed the wine.
“The Merchant’s Guild. That Man, Kerr, that you killed when you got Maria back. They’re
sending…an assassin, to kill you.”
Lared remained calm.
“Really? And you know this how?”
“Our guild knows…has been asked to help.”
“Dear Clara,” he beamed. “Will you be involved in helping to kill me?”
“Of course not,” she barked as she moved toward him. “You seem remarkably calm. The Merchant’s
guild is powerful here.”
“Many have tried to end me in the past dear Clara. None have triumphed.”
He pulled her toward him. “Now tell me…what else might I do for you this sodden night?”
She laughed quietly.
“Stay away from the Temple of Soras tomorrow night?”
He laughed and pulled her toward the bed.
Mirch had found it increasingly difficult to listen at the door and had moved to a better position on the
roof, near the top of the crenallated wall. He had missed much of the conversation, but had heard
Clara’s final comments. The Temple of Soras. He licked his teeth and rubbed his stubble as the rain
dripped from his helmet. Oh, he’d be there.
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