Chapter 10

Day 22

I watched in amazement as Runner wriggled in the noose. I was getting really wet as Runner jerked and thrust with his hips. I was letting him go three minutes now, and I thought he could go longer. His form was as good as a First Year after about three months—but without any formal instruction, just imitating me.

I grasped Runner gently at the hips and let his feet find the log, ending the practice session. As I untied his wrists, Runner twisted around to kiss me, his glowing face projecting an emotion that I understood very well. I had felt it just minutes earlier, after my own hanging practice. I had taught Runner to tie a knot, so I could now hang with my hands bound. That meant I could practice without having to think about keeping my fingers wrapped tight behind me. It made me feel that much freer as I danced in the air. Runner was aware of my body while I was hanging, so he could easily spot my foot waggle. Then he would help me back onto the tree stump.

We had turned south two days ago, following the coast. We were headed for either Liberty or Fairhold—I didn’t know which town was the nearer. Tradition was now alert to the presence of two escaped slaves, and the man could describe me accurately, even if he did have a killer headache. I didn’t want to remain anywhere in the vicinity. Purity, the largest of the coastal trading communities, lay to the north. So I had decided to head the other direction.

We should have arrived yesterday, despite my slow progress with the hobble chain, but we had to detour around a large farm co-op, too close to the beach to sneak past on the sands. Then a deluge of rain had caused hours of delay while we waited near the bank of a swollen, hard-rushing river. Even Runner, with no chains, had been reluctant to try crossing it himself, let alone carrying Puppy. Nightfall had come with the river still uncrossed; the rain hadn’t slackened until sometime after sunset.

By morning the rain had receded to a heavy mist, and the river was a slow, shallow trickle. We crossed it, feet (and booties, for Puppy) squelching in the mud, then looked for breakfast and a place to work on hanging.

As Runner hopped down from the stump, I shaded my eyes from an unexpected burst of morning sunlight from over the water and peered off in the distance, out to sea and along the shoreline. I nudged Runner, who was just finishing dressing, and pointed. “There! See that ... it’s like a bridge, but it just goes a little way out into the water and stops?” Runner had learned about bridges when we were following the trail from the mountains. “When a boat comes, it will stop next to that, and they’ll take things off the boat and put things on it.”

Runner gaped. “Do you see any boats?” He scanned the ocean eagerly. “When will one get here?”

“I don’t know.”

Day 25

On the morning of the fourth day of waiting, I began to wish we had gone to Purity after all. The town had a boat dock, about two hundred feet from where we sat on the ground, hidden by the deep shade of the trees. Puppy was wandering the area, returning occasionally for some petting. Clearly the town did some direct trading with the mainland, but probably not as much as Purity, the largest of the towns. But I didn’t want to be anyplace where there were large crowds of settlers. On the other hand, maybe big crowds would serve as better cover. And...

I cut off the line of thought. We’re here and we’re not there. We’re safe where we are, and traveling always presents its own dangers. We’ll wait it out here.

Across from me, Runner looked up from studying the game board and jumped to his feet. “Amy, what’s that?” He was pointing out toward the ocean.

I turned and gasped. I could hear the distant growl of the engines, now. It was hard to see the boat, let alone determine what direction it was heading, the dim daylight under the usual heavy cloud cover was not much help.

Looking at the dock, I suddenly saw increased activity. Yes! I decided, my heart pounding. It’s coming here!

About fifteen minutes later, the boat had reached the dock and was tied to it. It was about a forty-footer. As the crew and townsmen cooperated in tying it to the dock, I gestured with my head toward Runner’s clothes. “Get ready. We might need to go soon.”

Runner seemed to shake himself out of a trance. He’d been staring at the boat, barely speaking, for the entire time since we spotted it. He nodded and began dressing.

Puppy chose this inconvenient time to begin whining. I held my arms out and Puppy nuzzled up against me, giving my face a few licks. I gave her some absent caresses that seemed to satisfy her for the time being.

There was not much visible interaction between the boat and the locals, yet. One of the townsmen did board the boat, talking briefly with a crewman. Probably inevitably, some local teenagers were attracted to the activity, starting up a game that looked like keep-away. I could hear the laughter of the kids. They were generally younger than Runner looked, none of them accompanied by slaves. I had no intention of trying to join the crowd until Runner and I would fit in, unnoticed. The time, if there would be one, had not come yet.

My attention was caught by one man walking from one adult to another. It looked as though he was handing out sheets of paper. I wondered what news he could possibly be distributing that the settlers of the town didn’t already know. He arrived at the boat and handed a copy to a crewman, then went to a nearby post and hammered a copy of the flyer to the post. An unwelcome thought passed through my mind. I had a very bad feeling about this. My eyes still glued to the scene at the dock, I reached over and touched Runner’s forearm. “Runner, could you go bring me one of those things he’s giving out? Just walk up to him and say, ‘Could I get one of those?’ ... I think I’ll keep Puppy with me this time. Get back here fast if you hear barking.”

Runner nodded and dashed into the woods, taking a roundabout route toward the dock.

Minutes later, I held my breath as Runner appeared by the dock, trying to look like he belonged. He worked up his courage and spoke to the man. He handed Runner one of the sheets and immediately turned his attention elsewhere.

Soon after, I heard the sound of footsteps coming toward me. I tensed up, then breathed easier when I saw it was Runner returning.

It was indeed a stiff sheet of paper Runner was holding, a poster. “I did what you said. He just said, ‘Sure, sonny,’ and gave me one.” With a puzzled look, he held it toward me. There was a drawing at the top, and my heart sank. I was right, I told myself gloomily.

Runner was brushing his fingertips across the drawing. “Amy, this is like you! Your face. Except it’s flat...” He seemed about to go on, but couldn’t find words. He handed the sheet to me.

Apparently, the islanders had some rudimentary printing equipment. Maybe equivalent to a small-town newspaper a century ago.

It was indeed a drawing of me, a fairly decent bit of police-sketch artwork. It limned the basic lines of my face, and included those few links of chain hanging down from the front of my collar. The settlers at the dock would be looking out for me now—me specifically, not just a vaguely-suspected escaped slave.

Below the drawing was the printed text:

RUNAWAY!
WANTED FOR ATTACKING A SLAVE-HUNTER
CAUSING GREAT BODILY HARM
AND ESCAPING HIS CUSTODY

The subling here pictured should be brought immediately to the magistrate. It may be traveling with another slave, and a stolen dog. Use extreme care in capturing it, as the other slave may attack. This slave may pretend to be from the Old Country, and may try to sound like a trader. Both slaves should be returned to Tradition for public whipping. Standard reward for each slave is hereby doubled.

I looked up from reading the poster aloud to Runner. Runner was looking at me fearfully, his coppery skin pale. He asked softly, “How is it making you say that?”

I looked helplessly back toward the dock, and said hoarsely, “They know about me, Runner. They know what I look like. I can’t go down there. They’ll see me and know I’m the slave this is talking about.”

Runner was shaking his head. “Talking? It’s not talking, Amy. You’re talking.” He was drawing away, obviously afraid.

My mind was on the message of the poster. It took me some time to understand the problem. Perhaps I should have explained this the first time it came up. I forced a smile, holding the poster toward Runner, who backed farther away. “Runner, it’s not...” I realized Runner might not know the word “magic.” I tried to think of another way to explain it, and couldn’t come up with one. “Runner, this is okay. It’s nothing that can hurt you. See these marks?” I traced some of the letters with my fingertip. “These are called letters, and the letters together make words, like the words we use. That’s a word...” I held my fingers spaced apart at the beginning and ending of one of the words of the text, “ ... and that’s a word, and that’s a word...”

Runner had stopped retreating. “You ... just look at it? And it says words to you?”

“Sort of like that, but not out loud. When you’ve seen letters like this before, you just remember what word they make.”

Runner reached out and took the poster, looking it over in fascination. “Do they teach you that at the Academy?”

I gave him a small smile. “We learn it before we get to the Academy. Every student...” I stopped suddenly. How could I have thought Runner could just jump right into Academy classes in September, when the new First Years arrived? Reading was such a major part of our studies, and Runner was more profoundly illiterate than even a three-year-old. The smallest child at least knew what reading was, long before he could do it himself.

No time to worry about that now. First we have to get home.

And how? My plan had involved identifying myself to the crew of the boat and begging for their help in returning to the mainland. Now I couldn’t get near the boat without passing through a knot of island settlers who would recognize me from this poster. It wouldn’t even help if Runner was with me. In fact, it would be worse: they would decide Runner was an escaped slave and capture him too.

I wondered again at my decision to let the man go after Runner had knocked him out cold. If I hadn’t, the settlers down there wouldn’t be looking at this poster now.

On the other hand, the discovery of a dead slave-hunter, the unlocked trap nearby, would paint an obvious picture of something that might never have happened here before—the murder of a settler by a slave. The sensation caused by that would have set off an even larger, more determined slave hunt. And I didn’t want to imagine the sort of punishment I’d be in for if I was caught.

And I really, really didn’t want to kill anybody. It was nothing like snuffing a willing student; I’d done that several times. But toppers didn’t have the satisfaction of becoming thanerone to look forward to. Being a topper had always seemed empty to me. But then, I’d never been one. Maybe it was different from their point of view. But a topper dead was simply dead, not thanerone. I couldn’t bear doing that to somebody.

What’s done is done, I reminded myself. I did what I did. I let him go, he set off a hunt for me, and here we are. I can’t change that.

Runner was running his fingers over the text as he had earlier with the drawing. “Amy, can you teach me to hear the words?”

I managed another smile, in the face of my newest worry. “It takes a long time, Runner. First we need to get home.” I wondered what meaning the word “home” had taken on in Runner’s mind. Probably accurate enough, considering how I’d been using it. And the Academy was going to be Runner’s home. There was a staff of non-students there. I would make sure Runner had a place there somewhere.

I stretched out on the ground, on my stomach, watching the dock. “We need to watch. See what they do. See if there’s some time we could get to the boat without the settlers seeing us.”

Runner set the poster aside and lay down beside me, also watching. Puppy lay quietly on my other side, rubbing up against me but not insisting on any fondling. We waited.

Within an hour, a team of slaves had assembled on the dock. They went below decks, and came out of the cargo hold with crates. Two slaves held each crate by handles on either side, straining to lift them and staggering toward town.

I forced myself to stop biting my lip. I noticed the pain when my teeth had scraped it raw. Runner murmured, “Can you just go down with one of those boys? And then stay?”

I shook my head tensely. “Somebody down there knows who all those slaves are. Even the slave I went with would know I don’t belong there. And we have to get you and Puppy on the boat somehow too.”

Runner was looking at the poster. “Does it say...” He paused, and closed his eyes, trying to remember the words. “It says... ‘This slave may pretend to be from the Old Country.’?” He looked at me. “Is that what you call it where you live? ‘The Old Country’?”

I sighed. “That’s what that means, yes. If I could get close to the ones on the boat—the sailors—if I could talk to them, they’d know where I’m from. I know too many things nobody from here knows. But the settlers from the town ... They’re all around, down there. Even if they look at me and don’t think about me being the slave on the poster ... as soon as they hear me talk, they’ll remember what it says. They’ll know I’m the slave they’re looking for. They’ll drag me away and ... you know.”

“The sailors—would they know what a Noosemeister is?”

I shrugged. “They should. They probably haven’t seen one, but I think everybody knows about us. But...” I gestured helplessly toward the boat. “I just can’t get close enough to tell them!” Tears started streaming down my face. To be so close and not be able to get any closer! That damned trap! If only I’d remembered to wear the vine that day! If I’d worn it, no trap, no hunter, no description of me, no poster...

“Amy, you don’t have to tell them! They can see you from here!”

My mouth dropped open. I turned my head toward Runner so fast my neck hurt. I stared at him for a few seconds, then I shot up onto my feet. Puppy didn’t understand; she yelped and backed away.

I examined the area around us. We were pretty-well hidden where we were. Suddenly, I didn’t want to be hidden. The trees gave way to a bluff that led down to the beach just ahead of us. Cautiously, I shuffled to my left just behind the front line of trees. Here, I thought, this will work. Standing where I was now, I had a clear view of the boat itself, while the trees to my right shielded me from being seen by anyone on the dock.

I growled in frustration. The foliage overhead left everything in the shadows. Nobody on the boat would be able to pick me out from the dark background of the dense forest behind me. But if I stepped forward much farther, out of the deep shadows, the townsmen would spot me as soon as the boat crew did.

Looking up, I was startled to see a patch of blue sky directly overhead. There had been none for days. As Runner said, “Amy, what...” I held up my hand, palm outward, and Runner stopped. I stood still, staring upward, trying to judge where the edge of the break in the clouds was headed...