When Tam awoke, it was night—either that or they were in a cave, because no light seeped in between the cracks of the boards. The absence of the jarring and creaks of the wagon’s skirmish with the rutted road was what woke him. Day after day was a monotony of dreamy hazes, and every night was a waking nightmare as he struggled to hold on to the memories of a better life. Ilanet—had he known her or was she a dream? He ran his finger over the bracelet on his wrist. He could not have made it for himself. And Frisha. Sometimes she was a little girl chasing him through the yard with ribbons in her hair. Other times, she was a grown woman staring dreamy-eyed at a vicious god. Had he known a god?
The door opened, and Fiero growled at them to get out of the wagon. After hours of sitting in one position, stuffed between the other filthy prisoners, Tam stood on shaky legs that cramped with the effort. He clenched his teeth against the pain. It was not as bad as the headaches, which, for the moment, had subsided. He felt better in the dark, especially when it was quiet.
Uthey tumbled into him as he stepped out of the wagon, and Ipon struck them both with his stick for causing trouble. Tam felt no anger toward Uthey for inciting Ipon’s ire. It was pointless to hold a grudge when the next time it would likely be his own fault. As one of Ipon’s men lit the fire with his talent, Ipon ordered the prisoners to relieve themselves in the bushes. Once that was done, they were made to walk in a line, circling around the fire again and again. Afterward, they jumped for a while, then did sit-stands and push-ups. They received more food than at any other time since his capture. Ipon said he would get more money for them if they were strong when they arrived at the quarry, enough to make it worth feeding them.
The quarry. It was the last place anyone wanted to go. Worse than the caves, worse than the ships, the quarry was the opening to the hells, the pit of despair—or so Tam had been told. He could not imagine it being worse than what he had already suffered. He and Uthey leaned against each other’s backs as they filled their mouths with mush they scooped from their bowls with their fingers. Tam bit down on what he kept telling himself were raisins or seeds. He cared little about what he ate, so long as his stomach no longer ached with hunger.
“Is it time?” whispered Uthey while Ipon berated Fiero for the troubles of the world.
Tam nodded. “Tonight. I overheard them talking earlier. We arrive tomorrow, so if we’re going to do it, it has to be tonight.”
“Have you discovered who has the key?”
“No. It has not come up.”
Uthey eyed the other men. “We could force them to unlock one of us.”
“They only unlock the dead.”
Uthey nodded. “At least we would know who has the key.”
“I’d rather kill the slavers and dig through their pockets.”
“You and me both, but they have mages and weapons.”
“I am the weapon,” said Tam. “Rule 233.” His thoughts and memories abruptly aligned around a central figure. Rezkin. He knew Rezkin. Oh. Rezkin was Frisha’s dark god. No, Tam thought, not a god. A man. Maybe. Rezkin was a conundrum, but Rezkin would come for him.
“That’s a ridiculous rule,” said Uthey. “A man with a sword and knowledge to use it will win against a man without one.”
“You don’t know my king,” said Tam.
Uthey silently chuckled. “Neither do you, but if it keeps you sane, then you are welcome believe whatever you want.”
To the other side of Tam was a Leréshi sailor named Mogalay, who knew a bit of Gendishen. He said, “When this king of yours comes to save you, you will introduce us, yes? Maybe he can take us with him to your secret island, and we can all be claimed by princesses.” A few of the men who spoke Gendishen laughed. Others never laughed even if they spoke the language. Tam was glad that Uthey laughed often.
He turned to Uthey. “How do you laugh?” Uthey gave him a strange look, so Tam nodded toward the slavers. “With all of this? With the hunger and beatings, with the chains and blisters, with no choices in your life, how do you laugh?”
Uthey stared at the fire for a long time and finally said, “Every moment is a bubble of sorrow in my chest. The bubbles build up to weigh heavily on my heart. I must release them, or they will crush me from within.”
Tam stared at him, and then he laughed. Tam laughed, and Uthey laughed, and many of the other men laughed. Ipon stormed over to scold them, and they laughed harder. They all lay down with welts that night.
A few hours later, Tam reached over and shook Uthey. The man’s snoring ceased, and they both lay still to make sure the lookout had not seen.
“Where is he?” whispered Uthey.
“I don’t know. He went into the woods over there and hasn’t returned. We should go now.”
They glanced behind them to see Ipon and a couple of the other slavers fast asleep. Another lookout was stationed on the other side of the wagon, but he would not be looking their way. Tam kicked Mogalay and gave him the signal. Mogalay woke his partner and then the next men in the line. Uthey, being closest to the tree line on the side opposite the slavers, led the way crawling on hands and knees. Tam glanced back to see how many followed and note whether the others might alert their captors. When he turned back, he was met by a pair of black eyes. Slavering lips pulled back to reveal sharp pinkish-white fangs.
Ahead of him, Uthey yanked the chain, but Tam refused to budge. He remained frozen, hoping Uthey would not panic when he finally saw the creature. The beast that looked like a cross between a cat and a wolf took a step forward, and Tam felt its hot breath sweep over his face. The beast suddenly lurched, and Tam realized that Uthey had kicked it in the side.
“What is it?” Tam said.
“A vurole,” said Uthey as they tried to stand, partially tripping over each other in their haste.
The vurole abruptly pounced on Uthey, who screamed as the creature latched onto his arm. Tam jumped on the vurole’s back, reaching around its thick neck to grasp the chain that bound him to his partner. His fingers brushed the metal, and he almost fell off the creature as he reached for it again. Gripping the heavy coat of the squirming beast with one hand, he stretched as far as he could reach to grab hold of the chain. Once within his grasp, he wrenched the thick links around the vurole’s throat and threw his weight backward. The vurole released Uthey’s arm, and Tam held tight as the creature twisted and bucked like an untamed stallion. His muscles were locked with fear and determination. The creature slammed into a tree, smashing his leg, then rolled to scrape him from its back. A rock dug into Tam’s shoulder, but he gritted his teeth and held tight. He knew that if he let go, he would die. It lurched to its feet and tried to bite Tam’s leg where it was tucked tightly against the beast’s side, but with Uthey’s weight on the other end of the chain, the beast could not reach. Eventually, the vurole’s movements slowed, and it stumbled, partially trapping Tam beneath it. Tam held the chain with all his might even after the creature ceased to breathe.
Uthey gripped Tam’s shoulder. “It’s dead! Come, we must seek safety.”