19
“Keep your head down,” Amlach suddenly recommended to me as we made our way through the crowd of noisy sailors.
At some point, finally, my bare feet no longer meet mud full of spilled beer, urine, seawater, vomit, and who knows what other filth, but hard, dry, and warm sandy soil.
Rubra, nicknamed ‘The Red City’ for its many houses’ terracotta roofs, stretched along the vast gulf to the northeast of the Lands of the West. Surrounded by a high wall to protect against the encroaching desert that characterized the continent, Rubra was a splendid oasis filled with towering palms and vibrant plants that shielded its citizens from the scorching sun.
The roads we walked were lined with grassy paths, and my eyes teared at the thought of the meadows in Aegel’s woods.
Colorful shops alternated with smaller houses, and for a moment, the peaceful atmosphere among the people filling the streets, strolling or chatting in front of the stalls, made me forget that I was a prisoner.
Something seemed off. Rubra was known for its slavery-based social system. Still, those I recognized as servants—marked by a copper band around their neck and wrist, linked by a chain that tinkled annoyingly with each move—looked so happy.
Even the couple in front of us was excited as they showed their children the clusters of dates growing on the palms and the colorful fruits that stood out on the counters.
They should be terrified. They would be sold as animals, maybe even separated from each other. Instead, they were . . . smiling.
“This place is not what you think,” Amlach said suddenly, perhaps noticing my perplexity.
I eyed him sideways, waiting for him to continue.
“Look around. What do you see?”
I carefully observed every alley, every window with wooden frames painted red, every balcony, the courtyards, and the vegetable gardens visible behind the houses and shops.
I studied the short-sleeved tunics worn by the working men, the stoles of the women carrying baskets under their arms or balanced on their heads, and the sandals worn by the boys who rushed from shop to shop with purses in hand.
None of them was dirty, malnourished, or dressed in rags.
“There is no poverty,” I answered with a hint of surprise.
“Exactly,” Amlach nodded. “Each slave is assigned a rent that can vary from just a few coins to a significant sum. Additionally, their masters provide them with food and accommodation. For slaves in the lower league, this typically means a stable and a loaf of bread, while those serving the Masters of Rubra are given actual apartments.”
I frowned. “How do you know all these things?”
Amlach’s face darkened. “I had just been promoted to general when I was assigned to investigate a series of disappearances in a village north of the Kingdom of Men, near the coast and bordering the witches’ territory.
The king believed they were responsible for those kidnappings.
He thought they were taking entire families for who knows what dark rituals. ”
It was absurd. Witches revered nature and its elements. They did not dare to hunt the wildlife in their dense forest, subsisting on herbs, fruits, and vegetables. There was nothing malevolent in their magic.
The only witch to have ever tapped into dark forces had been Mornon the Abomination.
“But,” Amlach continued, “I found out that some pirate ships from the Lands of the West were calling at that village. I overheard a fisherman talking to a crew member from a sailboat that had docked the day before, and I saw them talking again that evening at the village’s only inn.
Something didn’t seem right. That night, I decided to wait outside the man’s hut without telling my men, who were camped outside the village.
When I saw him leave with his family, I confronted him.
I learned that, like many of the other missing people, he would rather become a slave—securing daily food for his wife and kids—than keep living in a sick land that was starving them. ”
A land that perhaps my grandmother’s power could heal.
A land elves were refusing to help.
A land we were leaving to its fate.
“I had him explain in detail what the pirate had told him about Rubra, the Red City. And in the end, I decided to let them go. They would have died within a few months if I hadn’t done it.
The children were skin and bones, their eyes so big and scared .
. .” His voice trailed off, and his gaze became distant.
“I didn’t tell my men, nor my king. Ever. ”
I glanced at the prisoners before us, focusing on the couple’s misty-eyed expression as they held hands with their children. “So, these people—”
“They’re here willingly. They paid the captain for a ride to escape my kingdom.” He turned to look at me harshly. “Because it’s dying, Nauriel. And so are its folks.”
Guilt squeezed my heart like a vice. “I’m sorry, Amlach,” I murmured in grief.
Our group was suddenly stopped by an ox cart that had lost a wheel, blocking the street.
I took the chance to openly stare at Amlach’s rough profile while he, thanks to his height, watched the scene further ahead with an annoyed frown.
“I will speak with my father,” I said abruptly, drawing his attention back to me. “When we return.”
His half-smile was brimming with bitterness. “You won’t, Elf. When you are reunited with your family, you will forget everything we went through. Everything you felt.” His eyes were so piercing, I felt weak in the knees. “And to you, I will return to being just a human soldier.”
I held his gaze for what felt like an eternity, stunned by the inner conflict his words had stirred within me.
Wondering if he was right.
About to say he was wrong.
Further along the street, the cart was moved to the side, and our group resumed walking. As we ventured deeper into the city, the houses grew larger and more elaborate, eventually becoming villas with multiple floors.
The sweet scent of the multicolored roses that adorned the lush gardens with fountains enveloped me. I let it intoxicate me, carrying my mind away . . .
Until a child’s shriek snapped me out of my thoughts.
A short distance away, a little boy with black curly hair, wearing a short brown tunic cinched at the waist with a belt, sprinted out from behind a house.
Hot on his heels was a man so thin he resembled a broomstick.
He wore a white apron, stained with blood, over his dark robe, and gripped a long wooden spoon tightly.
Both the boy and the man had bronze collars and bracelets.
“Come back here, you ungrateful little louse!” the man yelled in the common tongue. But, unlike the citizens of the Kingdom of Men and the Forest of Witches, he had a more rhotic accent.
He grabbed the curly-haired boy before he could cut through our procession and reach the other side of the road, shaking him so violently that the child’s head jerked backward.
“Where do you think you’re going, huh?” He struck him on his little behind with the spoon while holding his elbow. “You have been told to peel all the potatoes for tonight’s banquet!”
“But all the children of the other houses are at the park this morning!” the little one protested, crying despite his fierce look. “Why can’t I go, too?”
“They behaved nicer than you and earned a few hours of rest.” The man tried to drag him back, but the boy writhed wildly to break free. “So now go back inside and do your duty!”
“No!” the boy shouted, punching him in the chest with his tiny fists.
Once again, the man lifted his spoon.
And I couldn’t stand by and watch anymore.
Pulling Amlach with me, I lunged at the cook and blocked his arm before he could hit the boy again.
“How dare you beat a child?” I hissed.
“Back off, bitch!” the man snarled through his teeth, and he backhanded me with his free hand.
Amlach swiftly pulled me back and gave him a frontal kick to the stomach. The man fell to the ground, kicking up a cloud of sandy dust.
Suddenly, the three pirates at the end of our group used their clubs to push Amlach and me back into line.
Captain Escrain’s cheerful laugh blended with the sounds of chirping birds in the trees, and the chatter of onlookers on the grassy walkways and of those peering out of their windows to see what was happening.
As we advanced, I touched my cheek. I felt no pain or burning. I had lost my innate reflexes and elven strength, but fortunately, the resilience of my kind had remained intact.
“I am so slow,” I muttered, dropping my hand.
Amlach gently grasped my chin to turn my face toward him and examined my lips closely, perhaps to ensure they weren’t bleeding. “But you can still take a beating.”
Annoyed, I quickly pulled his hand away from my face, prompting him to smirk.
Before us, the woman gasped suddenly and flashed a radiant smile to her husband, who returned it and said, “Here we are.”
Amlach and I exchanged a frowning look. We walked past a small monopteral temple and then beneath three imposing stone arches flanked by two large buildings with long colonnades.
The commotion that welcomed us far surpassed the chaos of the harbor’s trade. We had reached Rubra’s open-air market.