The Pirate and the Amber Cat 18
Chapter 18
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Suili flinched emotionally as Brons set the table a moment later. She couldn't look at the boy's face, an action she knew Cortleno noticed. She let him carry most of the conversation during supper, only contributing an occasional nod or reply, vaguely aware of the rain starting outside.
The meal held no appeal for her and moments after eating very little, she couldn't recall what had been on her plate. Afterward, she sat at the window bench, staring vacantly at the locked shutters, hearing the mild rain tap at them as her thoughts focused inward. To her relief, Cortleno had gone into the office to chronicle the Gorzai Queen's plunder. He had invited her to sit in the other room, but she declined for reasons she did not specify.
She changed into the night chemise as his revelation twisted her thinking into an entirely new direction.
When Cortleno said Methden ran the mines by slavery, she thought his next words would be that her uncle had used Cortleno and the Lita Nysse as a slave transport for the operation. That Cortleno himself had been a slave for Methden was unimaginable. She unclenched her hands and let her thoughts go into a more personal avenue.
Too many questions and realizations coursed through her mind. She hugged her knees closer to her chest, wrapping the flannel chemise over her feet as she sat on the bench by the window. She couldn't believe her father would betroth her to a family of slave owners. It was not possible. Never, even in the midst of slave-infested Luxil, had they ever entertained the thought of forced labor in her father's house.
And the manner of slavery Cortleno had endured was not typical of Lux slaves. In her homeland the commonest of slaves were treated well, some even as servants who could buy their own freedom through indenturement. Tattooing was usually used for identification, and branding by coarser masters, but carving a mark was unheard of.
Father didn't know, she told herself, unaware of the candle struggling to stay lit in its melted wax at the table. The darkening room seemed to magnify Cortleno's story. If her father had suspected Methden of snatching boys from foreign shores to work the Shaenen mines, he would have annulled the engagement, she knew. She didn't doubt that for a moment.
Her mind leapt back to memories of her uncle. He had been a kind, generous man endowed with titles of influence and prestige by King Gade. Never had there been a time of leanness in the household, and there had been no question of his business or personal affairs. Methden's wife, Shayla, died before Suili arrived in the valley, but the woman's beauty was immortalized on portraits and reliefs all throughout the house.
She stood and lit another candle at the table lamp. In frustration, she paced the worn wooden floor of the bedroom, her mauve cote now tied tightly at her waist making jerky sweeps as she turned. It did occur to her that Cortleno could be lying, but there was no mistaking the mark on his arm. No one would go that far to prove a falsehood. A queasiness grabbed at her stomach at the sight in her mind's eye. The mark had been cut deep enough to result in permanent scarring, and it was an old wound of many years. Cortleno would have been but a boy back then, a scared twelve-year-old ripped from his home.
Now that was a new thought.
She had never considered him having a family—a mother. Until tonight he had only been a pirate, a barbarian, and a source of great annoyance. On impulse, she took a bottle from the cupboard and found the ivory cup. She sat at the table and poured it full, taking a long drink of the molasses tinged liquor.
She picked up a green frog from the game they hadn't played, pushed to one side on the table. No wonder Cortleno hated her so much. Oh, he said he didn't hold a grudge with her, but how could he not? She represented the Shaenen family. It would be sheer torment to house, feed, even favorably clothe the wife of an enemy. He had been civil enough, considerate in some areas—very unlike a pirate tending an enemy's interest.
It won't last, she thought. He cannot continue this kindness. Even if Juriz met Cortleno's demands in Cold Rock, he could still sell her or kill her and justify it a modest price for four tortuous years of his young life. Reaching Cold Rock and Juriz was no longer a guarantee of her freedom, not in view of tonight's revelation.
Suili finished the brandy and filled it again. It would have been better had he not told her, she decided. No; it would have been best had she not seen the mark. That was what started the whole mess. She could have married Juriz in ignorance and spent her life quietly raising children.
That was what Cortleno had said, she recalled, absently pairing the game pieces with their matching counterparts on the board. He had told her to keep her image of the Shaenen family intact, not to be too curious and be content to remain a dumb hostage. Instead she had insisted, demanded to know. Like the cat in the old fable, curiosity had killed a part of her.
No, she thought again. Not a part of her. Methden's illegal practices did not affect her and Juriz. To think that was too much like an admission of guilt, and she refused to think her affianced husband linked in any way to slavery.
There were other thoughts in her head, ones of Juriz on the deck in Leneau talking about mine workers and how they had been transferred to the Lusson location. It had not occurred to her before how odd the sudden migration of workers and their families sounded, even to her. To uproot that many people, so collectively . . .
She shook her head, drinking half the brandy, staring back at the gray and white howlite horse on the game board. It was only Juriz's manner of speaking. Probably some workers had gone, others stayed behind to dig out the collapse, if it was worth it, and still others would find different occupations.
No. Juriz was not a slave owner, despite what Cortleno claimed.
Even she knew the Ibereth mine was the oldest of the Shaenen operations. She had heard several times from Juriz that it was drying up. The workers would know that, too, and be prepared to move to another location. Juriz had spoken of an interest in Casdane, Mezpar, but the mine there was unproven as yet.
In sudden culmination she understood why the Ibereth mine workers would not be sent to Casdane. If Juriz was open to the use of slaves, he need not hide the practice in Mezpar, a country known for the savagery of its human trade.
No. Not Juriz, she thought. He wouldn't. He couldn't.
She knew it.
PG13. #romance #cleanromance #teenromance #YA #fantasy #pirateromance #pirates #ambercat #ChancelJordan
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