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We entered a room very like that where Sabine and I had been stripped, back at Halleburn. There were screens so folk could change garments privately and actual glass mirrors on the walls.
Sabine was already there in new armor polished to a mirror shine of its own. Her curling hair framed her face. It was braided and ornamented with ruby-headed pins instead of her own spiked strap. She wore ruby earrings, too. She looked at us and smiled wryly. “All done up like Midwinter geese, aren’t we?”
“Beka said yes to a day,” Farmer told her.
The lady’s face filled with cheer. She rose from her chair and, despite her armor, insisted on hugging us both. Then she had to give Achoo a treat and Pounce a pet. “Can I come to the wedding?” she asked. “I promise not to clank.”
“We wouldn’t hold it without you,” Farmer said, and I nodded. I wouldn’t tell any of them yet, but I hoped the lady would be godsmother to our first child.
The door to the chamber opened again, this time to admit Her Majesty and the prince. We all scrambled to kneel before the queen. She took each of our hands and raised us to stand.
Gareth beamed up at me and beckoned. I knelt before him. I think that no one was more surprised than me when he hugged me about the neck. “I miss you,” he whispered in my ear.
I cleared my throat, which tightened up, then returned his clasp. “I miss you,” I replied.
The other door in the chamber, the one which had not opened before, did so now. Yet another squire bowed deep to the queen. She made signs to us about the order in which we were to follow her. The queen entered the hall beyond, followed by Sabine, then Farmer.
I looked out and balked. That was the Hall of Crowns, far worse than the Jane Street magistrate’s courtroom. By the little I could see from where I was, it was jammed full of persons in silks trimmed in gold, silver, and jewels. These were not my sort of folk at all.
Gareth took my hand. “I know,” my little old man told me. “I don’t like it, either. Mama says it helps if I imagine them all in their loincloths.”
The thought horrified me. Folk don’t look nearly as good unclothed as they think they do. “Does it help?” I asked him.
“No, but I tell Mama it does so she can be happy,” he explained.
I couldn’t help it, even though he is our prince. I bent and kissed his head. “You’re a good lad, Gareth the Strong,” I told him.
“You think I’m strong?” he asked.
“I know you are,” I said.
“I learned it from you. Let us show them,” he replied, trapping me neatly. Together, with Achoo beside me and Pounce ahead of us, we walked out onto the great stone stage to stand with Farmer and Sabine. To do so we had to pass behind the royal thrones where the king and queen now sat, and behind my friends. I thought Gareth would sit with his parents, but he shook his head when I asked. “They told me to stay with you.”
Once we had settled in place, the king spoke. “Those of you who attended the recent trials and executions know that a great conspiracy against our throne was uncovered,” said His Majesty. “In this dread time, a small handful of people saved the lives of our person, Her Majesty, and our son. Prince Gareth was kidnapped and made a slave.”
There were shouts of genuine fear and outrage. People called out, “Gods save Your Majesties!” and “Gods save His Highness!”
“We trusted in our old friend Gershom of Haryse, now Count of Yolen,” King Roger continued gravely. “Count Gershom called together a team of Hunters to trail our son’s kidnappers and to bring him home. While other faithful teams from the Provost’s Guard ranged over the realm, gathering facts and arresting those who plotted against our throne, these Hunters found His Highness and returned him to his proper place. Lady Sabine of Macayhill, come to us.”
The lady walked forward as the king stood by his throne and drew his sword. In that great hall there was only silence. “Kneel,” ordered the king, and she obeyed. “Sabine of Macayhill, I create thee Lady of Princehold, that was formerly Queensgrace, with ownership of all its lands and grants,” the king said, his voice ringing everywhere in the chamber. “These lands and grants, together with the title, go to you and your heirs in evidence of the gratitude held by the house of Conté for your service in this dark time.” Sabine looked up at him. I saw her mouth move, but the king only smiled at her. “In addition, I ask you to take charge of the guard assigned to the persons of His Highness Prince Gareth and any other children of the royal family. Will you guard our children, Lord Sabine? Will you protect them as you protected Prince Gareth?”
I heard Gareth whispering, “Please say yes, lady, please, please!”
I don’t know if Sabine heard him, but she nodded to the king. He tapped her shoulders lightly with his sword and said, “Then rise, Sabine of Princehold and Macayhill, Lady Captain of the Household Guard!”
Sabine got to her feet, bowed to the king, then the queen, then Gareth. Shakily, she went to stand at Gareth’s back. I thought my heart would burst, I was so glad for her. She had fought long and hard for the Crown. Now at last she had a post where the best healers would look after her knees, her shoulders, and her back, and Gareth would have a friend he could trust in his guard.
“Farmer—” the king began.
“Cooper,” my man said firmly, walking over to kneel before the king.
“Farmer Cooper, then,” said the king, raising an eyebrow at me. “You did many fine deeds of magic in the Hunt to find our son and keep him alive. You did not accept the post of Chancellor of Mages, which Cassine Catfoot has taken up for the time being. You have accepted only humble work for the Provost’s Guard. Will you agree to help the royal mages screen those mages who come to work in Corus, with a proper gift from the treasury for your aid?”
“I will and I thank you, Sire,” Farmer said.
“Will you accept, with our thanks, this deed to lands, including the property you have recently purchased, for a city block in Corus? Property always helps a man in the world,” the king said, handing Farmer a document with seals on it. “Even more so when he is about to marry.”
I swear I saw the king wink at Farmer.
Farmer stood, did his bows, and looked back to join me, but Lord Gershom gestured for him to stand with Sabine.
Then His Majesty picked up a large document edged in gold, dripping gold seals on ribbons, and faced the hall rather than calling me forward. Gareth, to my surprise, wrapped both hands around my arm and hugged it tight. I knelt beside him, wondering what had him so excited. He latched on to my neck in reply as our hounds and Pounce moved closer to us.
“The third member of this group has asked for very little for herself, and we are told she is uncomfortable before crowds,” said the king. “But I have read her reports.” He took a deep breath. To my shock I realized he was shaking. “We read them, and we asked our son, whose life she saved, what he thought she would like. He said that she wanted the same thing that he did. And when he told us what became of other slaves, of their lives, we found ourselves disgusted. This is not the way people should live, in want and fear. No one deserves to be thrown away as refuse. All are equal in the Black God’s eyes.
“Throughout this, we have seen one thing over and over,” the king told them. “Messages, armed men, and weapons have traveled this land with the slave caravans. Spies disguised as slaves have been found in the great houses of the realm. Our enemies used the slave trade to disguise their activities. Several of those found guilty held shares in the slave trade and used the caravans and their ability to buy and sell slaves to plant enemies everywhere, even here.
“And it was money from the trade that paid for this. The mages came because they had grievances with the Crown. Others came because they were offered the gold that comes from buying and selling men and women. Over and over our son’s kidnappers told him that if he was not good, he would be branded. Anyone who was kind to him was sold or murdered. He was whipped like a slave, slapped like a slave, starved like a slave.”
The queen had her handkerchief out. The room was deathly silent. Looking around, I suddenly realized there were soldiers all along the walls. Where I could see in the crowd, I suddenly found faces I knew from the Afternoon Shift in nearly every district in Corus. They were planted carefully, like seeds—to spy on the audience should they attack Their Majesties even now?
The king unrolled his document. “As of the first day of October, all slave traders will leave Tortall. From that time forward, there will be no selling of slaves within our borders unless the sale is to reunite families and has been approved by a Crown magistrate. All slaves may buy their freedom, as has been the custom, or they may remain with their owners until their deaths. No owner may cast a slave out. All slaves who choose to remain slaves must be cared for during their lifetimes. Those families who have made income from the trade may negotiate with the Crown for loans depending on their plans for a new trade. And as of the spring equinox, 250, no child under the age of ten may be a slave. Owners must find a trade for these young slaves to learn or face a visit from the Crown’s representatives. In time, as older slaves go to the Black God, we will have no slaves in Tortall.” He lowered the document. “Some of you will feel unfairly punished for the misdeeds of others. The Crown is not trying to beggar you. We will do what we can to help. But the keeping of slaves beggars many lesser nobles and well-to-do tradesmen. We do not have the great farms of Maren and Carthak where they may work. Many evils take place under the canopy of slavery, including the banditry and piracy that plague our mountains and seas. This trade may go elsewhere. Let other monarchs deal with its mischief. I hope they can protect their children from it. Prince Gareth, and Rebakah Cooper!”
I jumped, I was so startled. Gareth steadied me as I got to my feet. He whispered, “You’re far better for me to think of than loincloths.”
I bent to straighten my boot and whisper, “Thank you—I don’t think.”
He giggled. He actually giggled.
A squire stood beside the king with a quill pen and an ink bottle. Another had brought forward a small table to set before him. Next to the queen stood the Lord High Magistrate.
“We sign this proclamation of the end of slavery in this realm,” King Roger announced. He dipped the quill in the ink and signed his name at the bottom. “And now Prince Gareth, who is a clever lad and already knows how to write, will sign as witness.” He dipped the quill again and offered it to his son. Gravely Gareth took it and signed his name, one letter at a time. I leaned on Achoo, barely able to stand, I was so nervous. I was also awed by Gareth. I didn’t know any other four-year-olds who could write. He’s going to be something when he is king.
“And for my second witness, Rebakah Cooper,” announced the king. He dipped the quill in the ink and offered it to me. “It is she who found His Highness among his kidnappers and brought him out of captivity.”
I thought I was going to faint. Then Gareth said, “Loincloths.” His father looked at him oddly, but it woke me up. I smiled at him and carefully wrote my name below his.
Then came fiddly parts with wax seals and the Lord High Magistrate wielding the Crown stamp. Gareth and I stepped back with Achoo. Pounce settled on my feet as soon as I was in place. He purred and purred, which kept me from throwing up or falling. I could see scowls on many faces, too many. This wouldn’t go down well.
And yet—“We did it, Beka!” Gareth whispered as the king was talking about heralds to ride throughout the land with copies for the lords and the guilds, and copies to be read in the streets. “We did it! We got Papa to end slavery!”
I could have told him that his father couldn’t have done it without the outrage from the plot against the royal family. I even could have said his papa had a real fight ahead of him. Nobles didn’t give up money so easily. In the Lower City there would be some parents with something to say to me, and it would not be “The Gentle Mother prays for you.” How could they make extra coin if they couldn’t sell their children?
I felt Farmer’s big hands settle on my shoulders, steadying me, as I began to grin. There it was, and I would never forget it. This king, and his son, had stopped the sale of children. That was something for one Dog to be part of, wasn’t it?
His Majesty had finished. He and the queen were rising to the reluctant cheers of the crowd. Too many, I’d wager, were counting the cost to their purses.
Then I saw Holborn’s old partner stand, his fist in the air. “Cooper the Mastiff!” he cried. “Cooper the Mastiff!”
In pairs and groups the Dogs tucked into the great hall got to their feet. “Mastiff!” they shouted. “Cooper the Mastiff!”
Other people stood, their fists in the air, shouting, “Mastiff! Mastiff!”
Their Majesties glanced at me. “You have a new nickname,” His Majesty said with a grin. “And well deserved.” I bowed and said nothing. The king knew my nickname!
Gareth came to me and took my hand. Now most of them were chanting the name. Farmer took my free hand and kissed it. “Courage, dearest,” he murmured in my ear. “It will die down—in a year or three.”
“I hope so,” I told Farmer, turning my face up toward his. “Elsewise you’ll have one wrinkly wife. Have you ever seen a mastiff?”
The shouting continued even after we’d left that stage. As we returned home, we were surrounded by folk crying the name. Even Rosto used it, jokingly, when all of us came together for supper that evening.
It wasn’t until Pounce, Achoo, and I were alone in my room tonight after Farmer went for a walk that I had a chance to finish this journal. I will keep no more after this. Reports I will write, but no private journal. What kind of hobbling could I do that is greater? It is better that I stop now, so my descendants will have only great things to read of me.
And the slaves will be free, all of them, by my grandchildren’s time. That is better even than any hobbling.
EPILOGUE
FROM THE JOURNAL OF
GEORGE COOPER, ROGUE OF TORTALL
January 2, 430 H.E.
The Dancing Dove
Corus, Tortall
Ma patched me up well enough after my fight with old Garsay, though I swear she made the stitching harder than it need be. She brewed the blood-fixing tea good and strong and stood over me while I drank every drop.
“Why didn’t you go to one of the better mage-healers?” she asked, folding her arms as she looked at me. “You can afford to do so, now that you’re the Rogue. They’ll beg for your business.”
I slung my unsewn arm around her waist and gave her a squeeze. “Now who’s going to look after me better than my old ma?” I asked her. “Family’s family, when all’s said and done.”
“You mean you don’t know who you can trust,” she told me. “You’re the Rogue now, with the old Rogue’s blood on your hands. Every young buck that thinks you’re weak will be looking to fight you as you did Garsay. And the first folk they’ll want to help them are the healers.”
I was hurt. “I’ve folk I’d trust with my life, and they’d trust me with theirs. You don’t get to this point alone, Ma. And that reminds me, I was thinking there’s a nice little house up on Meadowsweet Way, with plenty of room for a garden—”
“No,” she said, her voice flat. “You may call yourself King of the Rogues, and have gold in your pocket, but I’ll take none of it. I do well enough on my own. I won’t cast you out. We only have each other, after all. But don’t expect me to give you my blessing. You’ve shamed our great ancestress and all she stood for, all I stand for.”
“Ma, not this again,” I complained.
But her eyes had gone black clean through. She seemed far taller, with long, waving black hair and arms wound with snakes. I wasn’t there with my ma anymore. The Goddess, my mother’s Great Goddess, was putting her nose in my business. “Do you think it will be easy now? There will come a day when you will wake and sleep with regret and shame over this path you have chosen. Those you thought loyal will betray you. Your entire li
fe will be upended. Your future is nothing you have dreamed, and the fit will not be a comfortable one. I would say you will be miserable until the end, but you are a scamp, and I love your mother. Still, you will have a love that will stick you like pins.”
She gave me the chills. The Goddess has only taken Ma twice that I know of. This is the first time I’ve heard that god-voice turned at me, and I don’t like it. The Trickster is god enough for me. Let her god stay out of my life.
When the otherworld look faded from her eyes, I stood, trying not to show how much it cost me with all my cuts and bruises. She sat on a chair with me helping her. “Take care, Mother,” I said, and kissed her cheek. I chose not to tell her about the guards I was moving into the lodgings and houses around her. No one would try to make me kneel with threats to my family, as Garsay had made the Rogue before him do.
