A/N—Please read and review. Thank you. I hope you enjoy. I've been getting some pretty helpful reviews and I have four more chapters already typed up just waiting to be edited and uploaded so I'll try not to let it be too long before I update again. Here's a real short little chapter.
The Great Road South, Tortall
A merchant caravan two days outside of Corus
Last day of spring, 458 H.E.
The merchant looked over Roald with cold, brown eyes. "Where'd you get this money, boy?"
"I earned it." Roald snapped. "Legally."
"How?" The merchant demanded.
"Talismans. I've been carving cheap ones and selling them for four years." Roald answered, holding out a small coin purse again. "And by law, if a bond servant presents his master with the price of his bondage, the master must terminate his service."
"That's an awful lot of big words and law reciting for an orphaned brat. When I bought your service, you were alone on the streets of Corus."
"And now I'm paying you for my service." Roald countered.
"When I got you it you were just twelve years old. I could have sold you for three times what you're offering me now and your buyer would have thought he was getting a deal."
"And in two years my term of service will be up and you'll get noting." Roald pushed the purse towards the merchant. "I want my papers."
The merchant looked at the coins and switched tactics. "By law any money you make while in my service is my property anyway." He sneered, grabbing the purse. "Now get back to work."
Roald stayed where he was. He'd become a tall, broad shouldered eighteen-year- old with large, work-hardened muscles. He was a head taller then the merchant and gave off a commanding presence when he wasn't trying to blend into the background, like now. The merchant glared up at him, clearly not wanting to give up such a good worker.
"By law I have to give you only the money I make from sales of your wares or from your craft. Since I didn't sell out of your booth and cheap talismans have noting to do with what you sell, the money is mine to keep." Roald argued. "Now, may I please have my papers?"
"What are you going to do, boy, sell cheap Talismans for a living?"
"I want to be a merchant." Roald answered.
"Well, you wont get an apprenticeship with me or any of my friends. Stay here." The merchant went into his tent and came back with Roald's papers, shoving them into his chest. Roald took them gratefully. "Now get out of this camp."
Roald didn't stay any longer; he knew he wasn't welcome. He grabbed his pack and slung it over his shoulder, walking purposefully north out of the camp. Roald had been walking for only a few hours when the novelty of no longer being a bondservant wore off. "Smart move." He mumbled to himself. "Four years work and you've got five coppers in your pocket." He hefted his pack more firmly on his shoulders and kept walking. He whistled the tune to the Tireless Beggar to keep himself entertained.
It was past noon and Roald was between songs when he heard a faint noise off the road. The numerous shrubs and dense brush along the road offered just enough cover for the robbers Roald knew lurked along all the main roads in Tortall. He stopped walking and listened intently. There was a rustling off to his left and a twig snapped on his right. Realizing he had very little choice as to what to do, he started walking again. As he had expected two ragged men with bows stepped into the road in front of him. There was more rustling on either side.
Roald cursed under his breath. "Look, I've got nothing." He called to them, holding up his hands, palms out. "I'm probably poorer then you."
"Give us your pack." One of the men ordered. "Cooperate and you won't get hurt."
Roald slung the pack off his shoulders, taking a quick look around, then tossed it at the men's feet. The one who had spoken nodded. Seven more men came out of the brush onto the road. "Empty his pockets." Roald stood still as they pulled his five coppers and a few odds and ends out of his pockets. "Shoes, too."
Roald shook his head. "I'd rather keep my shoes. I've got a long walk and—" One of the men punched him hard in the stomach and he doubled over.
"Take them off."
Still grasping for breath, Roald pulled his dagger out of the top of his boot. Uncoiling like a spring, he lashed out at the man closest to him. The man staggered but didn't fall. Roald attacked again, this time with fists and dagger. The men swarmed around him, lucky punches blooding his nose and blackening his eye, but he was too fast for them to get any coordinated attack together. Still, he was horribly out numbered and before long he was on the ground, his arms shielding his head and his knees up to his chest. There was some shouting and suddenly the punches and kicks stopped. Roald lay how he was, his blood coursing so loudly in his ears he couldn't make out the sounds of running feet and pounding hooves.
Roald rolled over onto his back and blinked up into the blue sky. He slowed his breathing and whipped blood out of his eyes, even those slight movements making him hurt.
"Hold up here." A man shouted in Gennature. "Sattur, pursue those others." Roald groaned and closed his eyes. A Gennature patrol was not what he needed at the moment. He heard horses came to a stop near his head and two or three men dismounted.
"This one's alive." Someone said in Gennature. "Can you stand, boy?" He added in thickly accented Common. Roald opened his eyes again. The man that crouched near his head was huge, pale and blonde. There was a hint of sympathy in his blue eyes and this tone was gentle underneath his accent.
Slowly Roald sat up then got to his feet. "What happened here?" The blonde man asked.
"I was robbed." Roald answered. The man studied him, his eyes lingering on the blood stained dagger Roald still held.
"And turned murderer to get your money back?" The man said skeptically.
"What?" Roald said, startled, then looked where the man pointed. One of the robbers lay in a crumpled heap on the road, the front of his shirt stained with blood from a dagger cut across his stomach.
Roald shook his head, fighting dizziness and a wave of dread. "I did it to keep my shoes. I didn't mean to kill any of them, just run them off."
"I'll need that dagger." Roald handed it over. "And I need to see your hands." Roald held his hands out, his fingers spread. "He's got no history." The man called in Gennature to his commander, who was still mounted. He took Roald's left hand and turned it over, pushing up his sleeve. "Bond servant." He added upon seeing the tattooed 'B' on the underside of Roald's wrist.
"Not as of today." Roald said. "I've got my papers in my boot." The man dropped Roald's wrist.
"Let me see 'em." Roald did as he was told, handing his papers over. The Gennature man nodded and gave the papers to his commander, who folded them up and stuck them in his pocket.
"Tie him." The commander ordered in Gennature.
"I'm sorry, lad," the blonde man said to Roald in Common, "but we're going to have to take you in. Murder of any kind is illegal and worth time in the mines." He looked like he truly felt sorry and Roald knew he couldn't fight his way out of this. If he tried he'd be dead within a minuet. Grudgingly, he held out his hands. They bound his wrists to the end of a long rope, which was then handed to one of the men on horseback. The men who had been sent after the robbers came back without them and the Gennature turned their horses north, Roald following behind.
"Today just keeps getting better." He said to himself. "I should have gone south to see Raoul."