Bones of the Empire by Jim Galford Page A

enough.”
    “Slaves?” Raeln said, trying to sit up. Yiral shoved him back down. “Where are we?”
    “You are in the clanhold of clan Feirenn. Our scouts brought you in before the dark ones could claim you. You will work our hold’s lands, likely moving heavy items around, given your size.”
    “Oh, just kill me.”
    “Why would we kill you? You are worth far more alive. Feirenn would never kill a slave-caste that can work. Not even you, these days. That would be poor use of our resources. The council might have other plans for slaves—”
    “I’m no slave!” growled Raeln, shoving Yiral away as he sat up. Almost immediately his head spun and he nearly fell off the edge of the bed.
    Yiral eyed him suspiciously and lifted part of his torn shirt to look at his shoulder. Frowning, she said, “You have no slave markings. That is truly rare so far from the southern lands. Did you travel far?”
    “A few weeks,” he answered, the fight fading from his heart as dizziness made it difficult to think clearly. “No…a couple months, I think.”
    “You would likely have been tired even without this…interesting…injury. Rest, knowing you are safe, Raeln. We will not harm you without reason.”
    “Since when do your people need a reason to kill?” Raeln practically spat at her.
    Yiral’s eyes narrowed and she replied, “Since when do yours send a handful of incompetent soldiers into Turessi without an army around them? Be mindful of your insults, Raeln. Even I have a limit to my patience. We have crushed armies that came onto our lands, and we are being kind in not executing all three of you.”
    “My friends are not soldiers,” Raeln replied, rubbing at his face. “I was…not for some time, though. We were not attacking your lands. Yoska is a merchant, and Dalania little more than a watcher of the wilderness. They pose no threat.”
    “None of those who have invaded have posed much threat,” admitted Yiral, her anger already cooling, judging by her tone. “You claim to be educated and also a soldier. My studies of the southlands may be incomplete, but I was under the impression that your armies are made up of those strong in arm, not mind.”
    Raeln laughed weakly. “Generally true. We keep a few wizards in the ranks, when possible.”
    “We do the opposite, Raeln. Our people keep a handful of those strong in arm to help pull the valued soldiers to safety. A slightly different philosophy from yours, and I would hope that helps you understand why I believe you would be no match for any Turessian in battle. We gauge wisdom by capabilities on the field of battle, though not with a sword.”
    “I’ve held my own against plenty of wizards,” he said firmly, seeing she did not believe him. “Like I said, my sister is…was…a wizard. I wasn’t good at magic, but I had the same education.”
    Patting his knee in what Raeln could only see as a dismissive gesture, Yiral answered, “Rest yourself and we can discuss this tomorrow. If you are educated, we will find a suitable member of the clan for you to prove it. Until then, do not worry yourself so much about whether we see you as educated or uneducated. To us, you are still a wildling. We certainly are not keeping you alive for your mind.”
    Raeln stared at Yiral, trying to elicit any remorse or hesitation in her willingness to insult him. She neither flinched nor shied away, instead smiling slightly as she met his gaze. He wanted to claw her face off, but he could not make himself stand and go after her. His whole body hurt and he was so very tired.
    While he tried to calm himself to keep from killing an old woman, Yiral began prattling on about something related to her clan that Raeln had no interest in. Finally he blurted out over her in midsentence, “Where are my friends? Have you done anything to them?”
    Yiral stopped talking and glared at him, likely for being rude. He had seen that same expression on his mother’s face when he had been