Page 8 of The Sun God’s Prize (Child of Scale and Fire #3)

Whatever the goal of the show Vunoshe put on with the captain, whether to finish the dominance process he’d already begun, to prove to me further than he is the master, or to convince the crew of the same, we carry on without anyone raising further issue, the ship flying over the river, past the banks lush with trees towering high over the water.

I’ve never seen their like, thick trunks bare of branches until the peaks, flaring outward at the crowns in heavy green canopies that block out the sky.

The air is thick with humidity, but I’m not overheated, the rush of the breeze of our passing refreshing, as are the delicious fruits pulled up from over the side, chilled in the depths of the river waters, and served to the masterre in slivers of orange and yellow and green.

I eat every sweet bite I’m given, taking the dripping flesh from Vunoshe’s fingertips as he feeds me like a pet, patting the top of my head and clapping his hands in delight when I lick my lips.

I find myself marveling at him and the darkness he does nothing to hide, the sheer lack of care he gives to the opinions of others, the way he seems to revel in being the man he is, and no apologies for it.

He’s a monster and trades in flesh, but I learn a great deal from him in a very short time, and I’m not ashamed to admit I admire him, if only for his ability to be himself.

The fact that he doesn’t ask my name—and I don’t offer it—only speaks further of his intent and true nature.

I’m nothing to him but amusement for the time being and gold at the end of our path together, and everything he does proves it to me time and again.

At least he’s honest.

The sun is falling past the trees when we approach what looks like a village on our right, though any thought of escape is squashed as we pass it by at speed, several small fishing boats bobbing violently in our wake.

And only briefly after, we’re joined by two other ships, as long and sleek as our own, with matching triangle sails, captain’s saluting one another from what I’ve been told is called a tiller at the rear of each vessel, a clever pole with a fin on it that steers the fast boats as they cut their vicious paths through the water.

“We’ll be at our first destination by morning,” Vunoshe tells me as he feeds me supper, more of the delicious spiced sauce and tender meat over rice he calls kurrie .

It’s red this time, and hotter than before, but I eat every bite I can manage, my mouth on fire, skin damp from sweating out the heat of it.

“I don’t expect you to sell there, but we’ll keep an eye open for opportunities.

” He strokes my hair, and now I’m chilled, despite the hot sauce, at his practicality.

Grim, I eat until I’m almost sick, just for the nourishment, and I shiver on the pillow on the floor at his feet as he snores his blissful slumber through the night, clenching around my aching insides that only through sheer will absorbs all that I’ve devoured.

I will not waste a single mouthful.

Vunoshe is true to his word, the three boats slowing when we emerge on deck, the sails slowly lowered, and we’re coasting into dock with a level of expertise that makes me admire Captain Lhanin’s skills if not his black heart.

I take note of the other captains, the other ships, but I stay with Vunoshe as he leads me down the gangplank toward the dock, strolling like a nobleman with his pet canine on her leash at his side.

I’m still in the red dress, the delicate embroidery all around the hem gold and green and orange, clearly well-made and expensive, as much as his perfectly tailored attire, from his shimmering black trousers cut so tight they show every bit of him, the robe he wears billowing out behind him, the short belted tunic embroidered like mine.

His glossy black hair is freshly combed away from his face, dark eyes taking in everything.

“You see them?” He snorts at the sight of the slaves being led, staggering and filthy, from one of the nearby ships, weighted down with chains, barely able to keep themselves upright.

“Unfed, unwatered, a disgrace.” He tuts softly under his breath.

“Captain Arshan didn’t listen to me, but he will next time.

” Vunoshe turns and observes as our cargo is unloaded.

I know some of the faces from the bowels of the ship where I spent time, too, but they do seem in better condition, clean, too, redressed in fresh sacks of rough cloth, their skin still damp.

No doubt run through the bath the way I was, if not offered much after the fact.

I spot the one-eyed sailor among them and stifle the hit of satisfaction.

He brought his fate upon himself, and he means nothing to me now.

I will not spare him another moment of focus.

“There, you see?” Vunoshe isn’t done with his observations, drawing my attention from the sobbing former sailor.

He gestures at the waiting buyers, a line of men along the edge of the riverbank, who observe the slaves being led toward shore along the wooden dock.

“They notice, and we’ll get a better price because of that attention to detail. ”

I don’t share his enthusiasm, for obvious reasons, tension keeping me alert.

He could sell me today, and if so, I’ll have lost my chance to sink this ship.

Oh, and yes, I plan to do the same for the other two.

I will spend the rest of my life hunting ones just like them.

For now, though, I have to watch and wait and hope that I’m granted another day to rest and recover.

I’m not yet strong enough to bring about the fire and vengeance I have planned.

The last thing I expect is for Captain Lhanin to find his balls. He marches up to Vunoshe and rips my chain from the small man’s hands, his scowl tugging at the ring in his lower lip as he leans into the slave master and snarls in his face.

“We’re selling her,” he says. Jerks on my leash, not looking at me as he pulls me toward the shore. I glance at Vunoshe, who’s squinting at the captain like he wants to gut him, but makes no move to do so.

Fine then, I’m on my own after all. Strong enough or too weak to succee, this might be where the story ends.

I’m shoved into a cage, joining the group with whom I once shared the prow of the ship, noting their stares, and the huddled, weeping man with one eye who refuses to look at anyone.

I’d thought our fates and paths parted, not reconverged, but so be it.

It’s not hard to sort the buyers by preference as they approach the cages and talk amongst themselves, their muttering and pointing paired with the clinking of coins changing hands here and there as some are bought immediately.

I’m overlooked by these buyers, at least as a purchase, though I do notice a few admiring glances and growl in response at their leering.

The unlucky first choices are dragged out of the cages and taken away, leaving six of us behind.

The sailor is among the former, his wailing fading in the distance while the rest of us are prodded out into the dirt and, one by one, pushed up onto a wooden stage where a man in a dull orange robe challenges the gathered buyers to up their bids.

I don’t pay attention to the details, gaze skimming the crowd.

I’m more concerned with the guards who stand watch, if concerned is the right word.

They’re lax in their security, rumpled and unkempt, many of them bearing weapons without sheaths, poorly cared for.

I spot rust and food stains on jerkins, and I’m disgusted by their utter lack of discipline by the time I’m at the steps and next for the stage.

Maybe I am strong enough. There’s not a match for me here, even in this state I find myself.

Then I’m pushed from behind, a snarl on my lips, and the decision is made.

I pivot. It’s not my usual fluid motion, but it will do against the startled and unprepared young man who thought he dealt with an ordinary slave.

His sword is short and utilitarian, but he’s kept it better than most, hilt fitting well in my hand, length clearing the sheath he carries it in with a ringing sound, the blade shining in the light.

My mind cooly admires the freshly honed edge, but my body doesn’t care about such things.

He’s already lost his life even as his hand lifts to cup the blood that gushes from his throat, one neat slice all that was required.

Not that I notice, leaping up the steps that takes far more energy than it should, ducking low as something hums over my head and embeds itself in the wooden floorboards of the stage.

Archers. I catch sight of someone in the rigging of a ship and realize I’ve underestimated this whole situation, far too much to survive. Well, let it be that ending, then.

I’ll go down like my mother. She’d love that.

But not before the big man in the orange robe dies.

I roll to his feet and leap to mine, precious energy burning up as I use him as a shield from the arrows raining toward me, feeling his body twitch as two shafts impact his chest. He’s fat and sweaty and far too big for me to hold up, the stink of him nauseating as his body odor mixes with fresh urine, wetting himself while he dies.

I fall with him, controlled but losing my momentum, propping him up with one shoulder to keep the arrows at bay as feet thud on the steps, and two guards rush me.

The first loses his hand at the wrist, even from this awkward position, screaming and sending a fountain of blood streaming into the crowd from his severed limb.

The second manages to dodge my foot when I lash out at his knee, but he overreaches when he tries to strike me down with his own sword.

I parry it, driving the point of the threat into the chest of the dead man who shields me, sliding my stolen blade up to the guard of his weapon, hopping it, and slicing through his gut.

Entrails cascade over the slats, thudding heavily as they spill and tumble. He’s gagging as he hits his knees, falling face-first into the lap of my shelter.

Two more arrows thud heavily into the slave auctioneer. I feel him start to tip sideways and know, the moment he does, I’m dead.

I’m not ready to die, but I will. Atlas, Zen , I shout out in the nothing that used to be the kinspark. I tried, my loves .

No, not this way . Her voice in my head is harsh and angry, the stranger who’s plagued me since the Landlow Isles no longer distant. You will live .

“ENOUGH!” I look up at the shout, hold my place when my flesh shield finally tumbles, gritting my teeth against the impact I know is coming.

Except, it doesn’t. Vunoshe storms up the steps, coming to my side, grasping at my neck chain, tugging on it. Gently, though, disgust on his face as he looks out over the crowd.

“You don’t deserve her,” he snarls. “You earned your deaths.” He shocks us all by kicking the dead auctioneer. “Come, my beauty,” he says, leading me away. I rise and go with him, stunned, dazed by this turn of events. “Let us away from this provincial place.”

The grumbling starts and grows louder, but no one challenges us. In fact, we’re on the ship and sailing away again so fast that I’m not sure how we managed it.

Captain Lhanin’s fury rages at Vunoshe only briefly as the triangle sail snaps into full being, and we shoot down the river at that familiar speed again.

“You almost got us all killed !” The captain’s not just raging at the slave masterre , though. He’s furious with me, jabbing a finger in my direction, spittle flying from his lips while his dark brown skin turns darker, blood rushing to the surface. “You fucking idiot !”

“ You’re the idiot,” Vunoshe says, so calm and happy that it cuts through the captain’s rage as cleanly as any well-kept blade.

Lhanin splutters, shakes his head, hands clenching in fists at his sides, while the slave masterre grins back.

“Did you not see what I just saw, Lhanin? Did you not see our beautiful one fight?”

The captain pulls himself together, glaring at me. “I saw her try to die,” he mutters.

“She’s still recovering from the indignity you put her through.

” Vunoshe turns to me, reaching up and patting my cheek.

“She did that,” he gestures vaguely back behind us, “and she’s barely able to swing a sword yet.

” He saw that, then. He knows how weak I still am.

I must be conscious of his attention to detail.

Because it no doubt means he’s also aware I plan to kill him.

“Imagine what she’ll be at full strength. ”

Lhanin is listening at last, rage fading. “You truly think so?” He wipes one hand over his mouth, grimacing. “You think you can sell her to Romouth?”

“I know I can,” Vunoshe says, the joy in his voice astounding to me.

“For more ranan than anyone in that shithole could even imagine.” He snorts and tosses his head.

“Now, if you’ll excuse us.” He wrinkles his nose at me with an adorable smile that makes me ill.

“This way, my precious.” Vunoshe leads me aft, settling me on my cushion again, at his feet where his chair sits, before making a big show of looking me over.

“Did you hurt yourself killing those terrible people, darling?”

“Not at all,” I say. “It was fun.”

He giggles. “I’m sure it was, after what you’ve been through.

” He taps the end of my nose with his fingertip and winks slowly, once.

“Let’s make a pact, you and I,” he whispers to me.

“I keep you safe, and you make us a lot of money. And when the time comes and you burn this ship to the waterline, you’ll spare me. Agreed?”

I laugh. It’s a soft and helpless sound because I was right. He saw right through me. “You’re an evil man, Master Vunoshe,” I say.

He sits back with a satisfied sigh. “Yes, my lovely, I know,” he says. “And I’m very good at it, too.”

***