Many Roads Home by Ann Somerville Page A

pleasant than mud to walk on. Yveni was under no illusion that this comfort would last.
    The women returned and gave them shapeless linen shifts to dress in, and bowls of hot stew that brought a little colour back into tired, pale cheeks. The women brought buckets too—water for drinking, empty ones for toilet use.
    The doors were locked and one of the slavers sat on a chair to guard them. But for the first time since their capture—much longer than Yveni had been with them—the children could move about freely and rest on a bed, not the ground. They were all too tired and worried to play, but food and warmth made a difference to their mood. Unlike Yveni, they had no idea what might be ahead of them. Yveni wished he could be so ignorant.
    If there was any likelihood of escape, now would be the time, but after assessing the barn, the locks and the guard, not to mention their lack of proper clothes and supplies, he realised the situation was as hopeless as before. If there had been another youth in the group, someone of his size, they might have been able to overpower a single guard, maybe even break the lock somehow. But on his own, he couldn’t hope to, and if he failed, he would make things so much worse for the children.
    His impotence depressed him, but he wanted to spare the children his foul mood. He crawled into a bunk and brooded in private. Just once in his life, he thought, he’d like to be in control of his future. Just once . But here he was, so close to adulthood, and still everything he did was based on decisions made by others—his father, his sister’s betrothed, Gerd, Jako and now these bastards. Even if he could get free of the slavers, the children restrained his actions. He had less freedom of choice than a kardip on its way to slaughter.
    “Gaelin?”
    He rolled over. Tilin, rubbing his eyes. Yveni held his arms out. “What’s up?”
    “’m tired. Can I sleep with you?”
    “Of course.”
    He pulled the thin blanket over them and held Tilin tight against him. “Are we going to be here forever, Gaelin?”
    “Don’t think so. Don’t think about it. Want me to tell you a story?”
    “Uh-huh.”
    “How about the one about the little prince who had a big, beautiful horse called Ande?”
    “Mmmm, yes, please. I like that one.”
    At least his privileged upbringing had been good for something . What would happen to Tilin in a society that let children be used as slaves? If he ever came to the throne, Yveni vowed he’d do all in his power to end this cruelty. But the prospects of becoming duc looked even more distant. Surviving the next week was as much as he could hope for, right now.
     
    They stayed in the barn for two days. On the third, the women, whom Yveni guessed were the slavers’ wives, brought the children their laundered clothes, combed their hair and washed their faces and hands. Did these women have children of their own? How they could stand by and watch other children be carted off to market like livestock? These weren’t questions he could risk asking.
    It was a two-hour cart ride to their final destination. Kivnic, Yveni worked out from the street and shop signs. A city then, more than a town. An important marketplace and the closest large settlement to the border, he recalled from his studies. He hadn’t known slaves were sold here, but he knew surprisingly little about this dark trade, something he regretted now. It wouldn’t change anything, but it might have taken some of his fear of the unknown away. Or it might have made it worse.
    The large stone-paved square at the centre of Kivnic was given over entirely to a massive market. After spending so long in tiny villages and with small groups of people, the noise and smells and bustle overwhelmed even Yveni, who’d seen this all before. To the children, it was terrifying, and he and Jair had to do their best to calm and comfort, though he didn’t feel calm and Jair’s eyes were full of tears. She was old enough to