“Easier to carry a head to Baseer,” muttered Fieso.
“Not if it don’t get us nothing.” Uncle stared at Resik as if he could divine the future from the pattern of his freckles. After a long minute he walked over and sat on the table next to Fieso. “It’ll be harder to get her there, but the boy makes sense. Posters said nothing about killing, and they usually do. The carriage is big enough to take her.”
“Not big enough to hide her.”
“Resik,” Uncle said, waving him over. “Go fetch that trunk off the carriage. She oughta fit in there.”
“Wouldn’t it be easier to let me walk?” I asked. “Not if you run.”
“What if I promise not to?”
“You know,” Fieso said to Uncle, “heads don’t talk so much.”
I shut up.
Resik laughed.
“Go get the trunk so we can get out of here.”
This was so not good. I casually studied the room, hoping something would inspire a perfect escape plan. One table, two thugs, three chairs, and four bedrolls. No windows. Just the one door. Uncle had already demonstrated his vicelike grip, and Fieso was bigger and wider, with so many scars he obviously didn’t mind getting a little bloody in a fight.
Uncle wasn’t paying attention to me. He had his head down, studying charts spread out on the table. From the glimpses I caught, they were maps. Fieso watched me the entire time, his face blank.
Fieso chuckled. If crocs could laugh, they’d sound exactly like that. “She’s a sly one. Look at her – planning her escape.”
“Was not,” I said.
“Oh, sure. I saw them pretty brown eyes looking around.”
“Can always blindfold her,” Uncle said without looking up from the maps.
Fieso slid off the table and walked to the bedrolls. “And gag her. Ten oppas says she’ll scream all the way to the traveller’s house if we don’t.”
Uncle nodded. “Yeah, fine.”
Fieso pulled some cloth strips out of one of the packs and came to me. I had no idea what the strips used to be, but they didn’t look clean or soft. The closer he got, the more I could smell them. Something sour.
“Please, don’t.”
“Look at that,” he said, tying a heavy knot in one of the strips. “Manners and sneakiness. Open.”
I shook my head. He grabbed my jaw, pressing his fingers into my cheeks. My mouth popped open and he shoved the knot into it, then tied the ends behind my head. I winced as he snagged some of my hair in the knot.
Fieso grinned and snapped the second cloth tight between his hands. Dirt sprang out and floated around my head. I held my breath so I wouldn’t sneeze.
“Might wanna close your eyes.” He stepped behind me. “This one’s a bit dusty.”
I squeezed my eyes shut as he tied the blindfold around my head. At least it made it easier to hold back the tears.
Heavy thuds, muffled voices. The first sounds I’d heard in close to an hour. I’d been counting the minutes, but lost my place at twenty-something when someone sneezed. I’d hoped it was Fieso, though it wasn’t much in the way of revenge.
The door opened and the thumps grew louder.
“What took you so long?” Uncle asked.
“It’s a trunk. It’s heavy,” Resik said, followed by a large bang. “And there’s lots of people out now, all yelling and throwing stuff. The streets are swamped.”
Hands seized my arm and yanked me to my feet, dragging me towards – I assumed – the trunk.
“Grab her,” Fieso said, and hands lifted my feet. I writhed but they just gripped me tighter. I reached out and found flesh, maybe an arm, and pushed my aching head into it. A man cried out and dropped me into something that smelled of fish stink and mould.
Something smacked me in the head as I tried to get up, and they all laughed.
“Stay,” Resik ordered as if I were a dog.
The lid thumped shut, and what little light came through the blindfold vanished. I could move my hands enough to reach up and pull off the blindfold, then yanked the gag out of my mouth. My mouth felt dry as a beach, but as soon as I heard crowds, I’d yell my lungs out.
One end of the trunk lifted and I knocked against the side. The other side rose a moment later and we were moving. Faint noises reached me after a few minutes, growing louder with every jostle. I rocked as the trunk rocked, banging into the sides as we went down the front steps. I’d never been one for lake sickness, but the heat and the swaying had my stomach flipping.
I listened, straining for sounds of people who might actually help if I started shouting. I prayed the others were safe and sound and heading for Barnikoff’s.
Voices yelled – commanding voices. Soldiers or guards for sure. “Settle down or you’ll be arrested,” said someone who had to be a guard.
“Help!” I kicked and pounded my fists on the sides of the trunk. “Help!”
The trunk dropped hard to the ground. I kept kicking and yelling, until a six-inch chunk of knife blade sliced through the top, cutting into my cheek. I jerked away and pressed a hand against it. After a heartbeat, the blade was yanked out.
“Next one goes through the side, where it’s heavy,” Fieso said through the hole. Most of me rested on that side, my back flat against the trunk. “I don’t want to risk the money, but heads don’t try to escape.”
I stayed quiet. And still, despite the sting in my cheek or the blood trickling down my neck. Smells from the tannery oozed through the cracks in the trunk, mixing unpleasantly with the fish and mould. The smell of fish got stronger. Horses whinnied, wood creaked, and waves swished around dock pilings.
We had to be at the traveller’s house on the docks, the only one with a stable. Unless you were military or very rich, horses and carriages weren’t allowed on the isles. That never stopped people from ferrying them over, though. Housekeeper Gilnari made a good living stabling both.
Once I was on their carriage and off the isle I was done for. I had to escape before they boarded the ferry.
Please, Saint Saea, do something. I’m out of ideas.
Voices drifted over, but nothing I could make out. Probably Uncle getting the carriage brought around and the horses ready.
“Let me help you with that,” someone called.
“No, I got it,” Fieso said, banging on the side of the trunk my back was pressed against. “You scream,” he muttered through the hole in the trunk, “and anyone who tries to help you dies.”
A minute later someone grunted and I was swaying. The trunk dipped sharply at one end and I crumpled on to my head. A sharp jerk and it righted again.
My heart and my hope sank. I had to be on the carriage now.
“Can she breathe in there?” The voice was muffled, but it sounded like Uncle.
“I gave her an airhole,” Fieso replied.
“Gonna need more than one.”
The carriage rocked, then the blade punched through the lid – two, three, four times – then again in the front. I flattened myself against the side.
“That enough?”
“Better make ’em wider.”
The blade returned,