Chapter 20: The Cage and the Lyre
Well.
It was no trick at all.
Here I was in a cage on a cart pulled by two old, stinking donkeys. The kind of donkeys that looked like they'd already died once and came back out of spite.
Rowanda and Obara had been rewarded. A chest of gold. The Yellow Rose ship. A half-elf crew.
And me?
Confiscated. Sentenced. Shipped off like a mistake.
The elves took my weapons.
At least, they thought they did.
The only thing I was officially allowed to keep was Quiri's lyre, sitting in my lap like a joke.
Two of those green-cloaked guard figures drove the cart.
I rattled my chains just to hear something besides donkey breath.
"So," I said brightly, "tell me about this General Bushi your people are so afraid of."
"Shut up," the one on the left snapped.
"The ride to Wilder-East takes days," I said, shaking the cuffs again. "A week at most. I can't keep my mouth shut for a week."
"I said shut up," he barked, "or I'll stick an arrow in your eyeballs."
"Ah, you'll do no such thing," I said with a smile. "Your king commanded you to deliver me alive."
"I can take one eye without killing you," he growled.
"True," I said, smile widening, "but how sure are you I'm strong enough to survive the procedure?"
The second figure spoke, voice calmer.
A girl.
"Ignore him, Nel," she said. "He's trying to provoke you."
I leaned forward. "So your name is Nel. Great. Now I can stop calling you Figure Number One in my head."
I turned my head as far as the cage allowed.
"And you, young lady?"
"Nel," she said flatly, "give me your bandanna. I want to gag him."
I might've kept talking, but Nel suddenly pulled the reins.
The donkeys stopped with offended snorts.
"What's that?" Nel asked.
I smelled it a second later.
Smoke.
Figure Two's head tilted. "Smoke. From the city's direction."
We were traveling north from the valley. The smoke rose from the northeast.
Ladislau.
We kept moving, but their posture changed. Their hands stayed closer to their bows.
About an hour later, women and children stumbled out of the woods ahead—small, frightened shapes. They screamed when they saw us and fled back into the trees like we were the danger.
"Help them," I said immediately.
"Humans killing each other is not our business," Nel replied.
I stared at the back of his hood.
"Do you think whoever is chasing those humans will spare you when they see you?" I asked.
Figure Two snorted. "Humans do not frighten us."
I sighed like a man suffering fools.
Then I pulled a tuning pin from the lyre and started picking the lock on my cuffs.
Nel didn't notice. They were too busy watching the smoke.
The lock clicked.
I set the cuffs down softly.
"Why do I even bother reasoning with people judging me for a dead man's crime?" I muttered, already working on the cage door.
The door creaked when I pushed it.
Both figures snapped their heads toward me.
I slipped out fast, landed lightly, and reached behind my back.
Nel's bow came up in an instant.
"Where did you get that sword?" Nel demanded, arrow aimed at my chest.
I moved behind the cart for cover.
"Never mind that," I called. "Are we going to fight each other, or are we going into those woods to help those people?"
"Drop your sword and get back in the cage," Figure Two ordered. "Peacefully."
"So nice of you to ask," I said. "But no. I'll take my chances with the arrows."
I kept moving, never giving them a still target.
Then I saw it.
A small boy approaching from behind them, holding a plank like it was a spear.
Nel saw him too.
"Trista!" Nel shouted. "Look out!"
So Figure Two was Trista.
Trista turned her head—
And that was the opening I needed.
I lunged.
One clean slash cut her bowstring.
Then I drove my fist into her neck hard enough to make her stagger.
Nel loosed an arrow at me, but I'd already dropped low, using the cart as a wall.
I rolled, came up on one knee, and flicked my knife from my boot.
It buried into Nel's thigh.
Nel screamed and collapsed, clutching the wound.
Trista grabbed her throat, tore off her veil, and glared at me with purple face and furious eyes.
Half-human. Half-elf.
"Ha," I said, breathless. "And you hate humans so much you'd let human children die."
Trista didn't answer.
Her eyes did, though.
Hate was easy.
Fear was harder to hide.
I snatched the provision bag from the cart and ran into the woods—fast, silent, following the direction the children had vanished.