Page 34 of Black Sea

Escrain did not even bother to slow down as he replied aloud to overcome the harbor noise. “But not today, Calb. I can guarantee that.”

“Eshane passed by with a lovely group of pretty dollfaces earlier,” spoke a young pirate with a beer mug on the threshold of another inn ahead. “Now, that’s a booty.”

“Good for him,” Escrain replied serenely. He knew that I was worth more than anything those yokels trade.

“Your business in Rubra is winding down, Escrain,” the black-bearded pirate yelled after him.

“Or perhaps it’s just about to increase, my dear old friend,” Escrain laughed.

19

“Keep your head down,” Amlach suddenly recommended to me as we made our way through the crowd of noisy sailors.

At some point, finally, my bare feet no longer meet mud full of spilled beer, urine, seawater, vomit, and who knows what other filth, but hard, dry, and warm sandy soil.

Rubra, nicknamed ‘The Red City’ for its many houses’ terracotta roofs, stretched along the vast gulf to the northeast of the Lands of the West. Surrounded by a high wall to protect against the encroaching desert that characterized the continent, Rubra was a splendid oasis filled with towering palms and vibrant plants that shielded its citizens from the scorching sun.

The roads we walked were lined with grassy paths, and my eyes teared at the thought of the meadows in Aegel’s woods.

Colorful shops alternated with smaller houses, and for a moment, the peaceful atmosphere among the people filling the streets, strolling or chatting in front of the stalls, made me forget that I was a prisoner.

Something seemed off. Rubra was known for its slavery-based social system. Still, those I recognized as servants—marked by a copper band around their neck and wrist, linked by a chain that tinkled annoyingly with each move—looked so happy.

Even the couple in front of us was excited as they showed their children the clusters of dates growing on the palms and the colorful fruits that stood out on the counters. They should be terrified. They would be sold as animals, maybe even separated from each other. Instead, they were . . . smiling.

“This place is not what you think,” Amlach said suddenly, perhaps noticing my perplexity.

I eyed him sideways, waiting for him to continue.

“Look around. What do you see?”

I carefully observed every alley, every window with wooden frames painted red, every balcony, the courtyards, and the vegetable gardens visible behind the houses and shops. I studied the short-sleeved tunics worn by the working men, the stoles of the women carrying baskets under their arms or balanced on their heads, and the sandals worn by the boys who rushed from shop to shop with purses in hand.

None of them was dirty, malnourished, or dressed in rags.

“There is no poverty,” I answered with a hint of surprise.

“Exactly,” Amlach nodded. “Each slave is assigned a rent that can vary from just a few coins to a significant sum. Additionally, their masters provide them with food and accommodation. For slaves in the lower league, this typically means a stable and a loaf of bread, while those serving the Masters of Rubra are given actual apartments.”

I frowned. “How do you know all these things?”

Amlach’s face darkened. “I had just been promoted to general when I was assigned to investigate a series of disappearances in a village north of the Kingdom of Men, near the coast and bordering the witches’ territory. The king believed they were responsible for those kidnappings. He thought they were taking entire families for who knows what dark rituals.”

It was absurd. Witches revered nature and its elements. They did not dare to hunt the wildlife in their dense forest, subsisting on herbs, fruits, and vegetables. There was nothing malevolent in their magic.

The only witch to have ever tapped into dark forces had been Mornon the Abomination.

“But,” Amlach continued, “I found out that some pirate ships from the Lands of the West were calling at that village. I overheard a fisherman talking to a crew member from a sailboat that had docked the day before, and I saw them talking again that evening at the village’s only inn. Something didn’t seem right. That night, I decided to wait outside the man’s hut without telling my men, who were camped outside the village. When I saw him leave with his family, I confronted him. I learned that, like many of the other missing people, he would rather become a slave—securing daily food for his wife and kids—than keep living in a sick land that was starving them.”

A land that perhaps my grandmother’s power could heal.

A land elves were refusing to help.

A land we were leaving to its fate.

“I had him explain in detail what the pirate had told him about Rubra, the Red City. And in the end, I decided to let them go. They would have died within a few months if I hadn’t done it. The children were skin and bones, their eyes so big and scared . . .” His voice trailed off, and his gaze became distant. “I didn’t tell my men, nor my king. Ever.”

I glanced at the prisoners before us, focusing on the couple’s misty-eyed expression as they held hands with their children. “So, these people—”