6. Kavian
Well, that was easier than expected.
In the distance, I can see the caravan, a good way from the city limits. It has stopped momentarily, pausing to set up a campfire. But the faint flickers of movement from among its guards tell me that it might soon resume movement toward New Solas.
I have to approach it carefully. If I’m seen, Gorran might well take action to prevent my interference, if I’m not killed entirely.
Stalking among the trees and using the shadows to my advantage, noting that I might make use of them if things go south, I move toward the caravan, hiding under hills and jagged cliffs when opportunities present themselves. If I’m going to be successful, I’ll need to blend in.
The caravan is now within view, the city far in the distance. My feet are already tired. It took quite a long walk to get here. But perhaps it will all be worth it.
I can’t wait to wipe the smug grin right off his face.
He’s succeeded for far too long, using unethical business practices and shortcuts. As I notice the sorry state of his cargo, I realize that not only is he cheating to get ahead, but he’s also neglecting his products. The humans look to be thinned out and damaged, their eyes portraying possible sickness.
If you’re going to embrace something like the slave trade, it shouldn’t be like this. The auction houses where he’s taking them are getting ripped off.
“A tiny sliver for the tiny lady,” one of the guards says, throwing a small bowl haphazardly in front of a striking woman. Perhaps it’s a trick of the light, but something about her is enchanting to me.
Perhaps Gorran saw me coming and hired a spy to distract me. Because no human woman is that attractive. This can only be some strange and forbidden magic.
I shake my head and refocus myself before I get a good look at her.
I can’t get distracted now.
I need to remain agile.
“Oh, don’t look so sad, little girl,” the guard says to the woman. “You know that if we feed you more than that, it’ll fatten you up. And you don’t fetch as much on the open market with a gut.”
I shake my head in disbelief, imagining the paltry serving in front of the woman. This is not the way you take care of your cargo.
The guard slams the cage shut and walks away.
I watch as the caravan starts moving and prepare myself to move quickly, following from among the shadows.
I’m not entirely sure what I’m planning. Coming out here, I suddenly feel a bit reckless. Which isn’t abnormal for me. But if I’m going to get anywhere and survive against Gorran, I’m going to need to be careful.
Several guards watch the caravan—far too many for me to adequately dispatch them. If I jump in now, I’m going to be easily handled. And then my mission will be over before it’s even started, my family legacy ending in obscurity.
My feet carry me forward. Thankfully, the caravan is not moving too quickly. Before it can find its rhythm, it catches on a jagged mound or has to roll over a small stump.
I think about the human prisoners contained within—its cargo—and I can’t imagine their discomfort.
Not even their cages are suitable for the job. Gorran has put them in dirty, decrepit cages made of wood that are far too small for them. I think the wood might even be splintered. Even the most pitiful of creatures on Aerasak don’t deserve this sort of maltreatment.
I seethe, my nostrils flaring.
He wants to run these grand, large-scale operations, but he has no respect for the details. He’ll do whatever he can to cut corners.
And I’m going to make sure he suffers for it.
Perhaps naturally, he would have collapsed under his own hubris had this caravan perished in the face of wild monsters or bad weather. But I’m going to speed up the process. I can’t trust the world to make sense anymore.
Huh?
Atop a large hill, the caravan comes to another stop.
Have I been spotted?
I cling closer to the treeline just in case, maneuvering carefully among the sharp branches that graze along my skin.
But as I perk my ears up, listening for hints of the disruption, it becomes immediately apparent.
A curly red-haired human woman rattles her cage, begging for water. It started out as a mere unheard plea, but it seems that she might have fallen prey to panic.
Just deal with it. You’re not far from the city.
Stop pissing them off.
But immediately, I notice as one of the xaphan captors returns to the back, his agitation evident in his steps.
As the grass crunches beneath his feet, the long whip in his hand swirls behind him like a tail.
Still, the woman is oblivious, not seeing that she’s about to be punished.
I’ve seen humans killed for far less.
The xaphan draws back his whip, as the other captives hold their breath, and swats the woman as hard as he can.
It slaps into her wrist with an impact that’s deafening even from here.
That might have broken bones.
He draws back his whip again and slaps it forward one more time.
It’s difficult to see from here, but I think I see a trickle of blood fall from her wrist as she grips it. I can imagine it throbbing. I can feel the pain of the impact as it replays in my mind again.
And yet, he could have killed her.
“Now, we don’t like damaging the cargo,” the guard says, in a half-hearted apology. “But if you don’t shut up, there’s a lot more where that came from. We’ve got a long way to go yet.”
I look out at the distant horizon, see the faint silhouette of the city, and realize how far I had to walk to get here.
I can see the faintest glimmers of sunlight breaching the horizon. Already, morning approaches.
This should have been dealt with already. I didn’t think this would be an all-night task. But there’s not much I can do now.
The guard returns to the front of the caravan, the woman still clutching her hand in pain. She almost doubles over in her cage.
You could have attacked the lone guard, I think. It would have caught the others unaware.
But really, if I had been more prepared, I could have uprooted this operation much more easily. Simple explosives would have stopped this. After all, it’s not as though I care about the human captives. I could have planted the explosives while nobody was looking, then ran off on my way, with nobody any the wiser.
Or I could have used my shadow tendrils to pick each of those xaphans apart, one by one. I would have made sure their deaths were excruciating, to the point where they’d beg to die instead of endure one more moment of living.
I just wanted to hit Gorran where it hurt.
Next time, I vow to myself. Next time I’m not going to stall.
The carriage resumes its movement into the early morning. I listen in from behind, looking for opportunities to intervene.
But it becomes exceedingly clear to me that for whatever reason, I’m hesitating to attack. I know that there have been chances.
It seems as though the beautiful woman and the curly red-haired one have a preexisting relationship. I know that their conversations won’t give me any insight that might help me with my mission, except that one of them confirms what I already knew.
This caravan was organized—quite ineffectively—by Gorran. I hear vague hints of what might have started this meager operation too, with vague mentions of a fallen xaphan.
Otherwise, as I feel myself growing tired, they reminisce about life, back where they came from. They speak in hushed tones over the grinding of the wheels, talking about everything except for the incident that brought them to this caravan. It lingers in their conversation like a ghost, subtly in the background, making itself known, but never brought to the forefront.
Occasionally, I glimpse the woman, but I force myself to look away. I’m now not sure if this is magic. But I know that I can’t allow myself to be distracted by her.
The caravan stops one more time just outside of the city, and I think I see my opportunity, readying myself to move quickly.
But as I notice seemingly all the other guards coming back at once, I realize that I’m once again outclassed, and I grow still.
They mention some vague nonsense about treating the women better, in order to trick the markets. They say that nobody wants to buy damaged goods—that if they try selling them as they are, it will reflect poorly on the operation.
Far too late for that, I think. You’ve already ruined them.
But as I clench my fists, knowing that I’ve already missed my chance to strike, I commit myself to attacking at the next opportunity.
As they’ve clearly stated, the auction block is not far into the city. And with the sun already rising, it’s not as though I can strike in broad daylight, with the eyes of New Solas well upon me, either.
Am I really going to have to attack well into the bidding? I ask myself. It might be the only chance at this point.
Gorran might have neglected almost every step of this process. But he did at least ensure that his caravan was well-guarded.
And if I’m too obvious, then Gorran will see me coming from a thousand miles away.
After the guards have brought portions of braised meat and fresh water to the prisoners, the suffering woman appeased despite her throbbing hand, the caravan resumes its movement.
And I continue formulating.
I wish I knew New Solas better. Because as I trail as innocuously as possible, trying and failing to pose as a civilian, no ideas are reaching me. I can feel the eyes of civilians upon me, relieved as none of them point me out to the caravan.
Though I want to strike the auction proceedings, my mission doesn’t end with this one caravan.
I want to obliterate Gorran. And I want him to be completely unprepared for me.
I smile at the thought of him lost in confusion, as his operation crumbles beneath him. And I don’t want him to know who’s doing it. Not until the very last second, when I can look him in the eyes.