and he stumbled often, on the verge of losing consciousness completely. By the time they reached the city gate, he was panting for breath and sweating with pain. A guard challenged them at the gate, but let them through when Dahl’s captor spoke.
“We bring a healthy young slave for the Master,” he boasted.
“You will be welcome then.” The guard laughed. “He is always in need of new ones.”
They proceeded down what seemed to be the main thoroughfare of the city. Like all the other streets that Dahl could see, it was cobbled with warm blue stones. It could have been beautiful, but it was filthy and slippery underfoot with garbage. Silence hung heavily. The streets were empty. The shutters of all the houses were closed, giving them a blind look. No dogs barked, no horses neighed. Dahl looked in vain for some evidence of people, but it seemed that all must have taken cover at thefirst sight of the strangers. There was no one here who would help a boy taken captive.
A movement behind a shutter that was slightly ajar caught his eye. A child’s face peered at him curiously, then it was abruptly yanked back out of sight by someone unseen within the room. The shutter slammed shut, and the house became as blank and impersonal as the rest.
Although spacious and well laid out, the city was not overly large. Within a short space of time they left the houses behind. The road began to rise. Dahl no longer looked around him; the view was too depressing. Although the horses had slowed to a walk, he was near exhaustion. He had stumbled so often that now he just watched his feet and concentrated on each step. When the man leading him suddenly brought his horse to a stop, Dahl looked up. They were at the castle gates. Made of a metal that gleamed with the luster of burnished gold, blinding and glorious in the sunlight, the gates were topped with cruel spikes.
The castle towered beyond them. It glistened pure white, dotted with windows that shone and glittered. Dahl’s heart leaped, almost with recognition. Surely he knew this place! Then it sank. No, not this place. There was a coldness here, a frightening aura of evil. Never in his life had Dahl felt anything so strongly. In spite of the sun now hot overhead, he shivered. His blood seemed to slow in his veins.
A guard appeared, backed by several others.
“Your business?” he demanded. “For what reason do you dare approach these gates?” All the men were heavily protected by leather armor.
“We bring a slave to sell,” the leader replied. “He is young and strong and should give many months of useful service before he wears out.”
“What price ask you for him?”
“Twelve talons. It is a fair price for such a prize.”
“It is not a fair price. It is robbery.” The guard spat at the leader’s feet. “Two talons would be more like it.”
“Two talons! I’ll keep him myself rather than give him away for that paltry sum!”
Dahl stood, silent, while the bargaining went on, listening to the price that was being attached to his worth. It seemed very little, although he wasn’t sure what a talon was. He stood, so buffeted by pain from being dragged such a distance that only with the greatest of efforts could he keep himself from collapsing into the dirt at their feet. As he listened to the haggling, a fury began to rise within him. How dare they! If they knew who he was…!
His mind stopped there as if dashed by a flood of cold water. They didn’t know who he was. And the Usurper did not know he was within the castle gates themselves. The Usurper had sent the birds—sent them in response to his challenge, to show him just how feeble his defiance had been—Dahl wascertain of that. He burned as he thought of the ease with which the Usurper had deprived him of his sword and rendered him weaponless. But could it be that this capture was an accident, unplanned by the Usurper? That while he had hovered on the verge of unconsciousness, the Usurper had been
“We bring a healthy young slave for the Master,” he boasted.
“You will be welcome then.” The guard laughed. “He is always in need of new ones.”
They proceeded down what seemed to be the main thoroughfare of the city. Like all the other streets that Dahl could see, it was cobbled with warm blue stones. It could have been beautiful, but it was filthy and slippery underfoot with garbage. Silence hung heavily. The streets were empty. The shutters of all the houses were closed, giving them a blind look. No dogs barked, no horses neighed. Dahl looked in vain for some evidence of people, but it seemed that all must have taken cover at thefirst sight of the strangers. There was no one here who would help a boy taken captive.
A movement behind a shutter that was slightly ajar caught his eye. A child’s face peered at him curiously, then it was abruptly yanked back out of sight by someone unseen within the room. The shutter slammed shut, and the house became as blank and impersonal as the rest.
Although spacious and well laid out, the city was not overly large. Within a short space of time they left the houses behind. The road began to rise. Dahl no longer looked around him; the view was too depressing. Although the horses had slowed to a walk, he was near exhaustion. He had stumbled so often that now he just watched his feet and concentrated on each step. When the man leading him suddenly brought his horse to a stop, Dahl looked up. They were at the castle gates. Made of a metal that gleamed with the luster of burnished gold, blinding and glorious in the sunlight, the gates were topped with cruel spikes.
The castle towered beyond them. It glistened pure white, dotted with windows that shone and glittered. Dahl’s heart leaped, almost with recognition. Surely he knew this place! Then it sank. No, not this place. There was a coldness here, a frightening aura of evil. Never in his life had Dahl felt anything so strongly. In spite of the sun now hot overhead, he shivered. His blood seemed to slow in his veins.
A guard appeared, backed by several others.
“Your business?” he demanded. “For what reason do you dare approach these gates?” All the men were heavily protected by leather armor.
“We bring a slave to sell,” the leader replied. “He is young and strong and should give many months of useful service before he wears out.”
“What price ask you for him?”
“Twelve talons. It is a fair price for such a prize.”
“It is not a fair price. It is robbery.” The guard spat at the leader’s feet. “Two talons would be more like it.”
“Two talons! I’ll keep him myself rather than give him away for that paltry sum!”
Dahl stood, silent, while the bargaining went on, listening to the price that was being attached to his worth. It seemed very little, although he wasn’t sure what a talon was. He stood, so buffeted by pain from being dragged such a distance that only with the greatest of efforts could he keep himself from collapsing into the dirt at their feet. As he listened to the haggling, a fury began to rise within him. How dare they! If they knew who he was…!
His mind stopped there as if dashed by a flood of cold water. They didn’t know who he was. And the Usurper did not know he was within the castle gates themselves. The Usurper had sent the birds—sent them in response to his challenge, to show him just how feeble his defiance had been—Dahl wascertain of that. He burned as he thought of the ease with which the Usurper had deprived him of his sword and rendered him weaponless. But could it be that this capture was an accident, unplanned by the Usurper? That while he had hovered on the verge of unconsciousness, the Usurper had been
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