out from under him. Falling backward, he dragged J'role with him, bending your father over backward to the floor, the whip still wrapped around his neck.
J'role used that moment to wriggle free of the whip. With the deft motion of a well-practiced thief, he slipped the keys from Redbeard's belt. He then swung his upper body back up and began searching for the right key. But Redbeard was already scrabbling to stand. A slave stuck out his foot and tripped the slave master. Redbeard scrambled for balance on the ice, then fell back down. The slave smiled, something I'd never seen him do before in the two months he'd been with us.
A cheer went through room.
J'role found the key, undid his shackles, and stood. Another cheer and a rattling of chains filled the room. A charge of thick energy passed through us all. Suddenly we could remember the taste of freedom. We needed our chains undone now. J'role dodged a kick from Redbeard and tossed the keys to some people on benches behind him. Immediately they began fumbling with the keys to free themselves.
Meanwhile, Redbeard had scrambled up, avoiding the clawing hands of nearby slaves and the quick kicks of their legs. He stepped off the ice, whirled his whip back, and snapped it at J'role in three quick, successive blows. J'role moved quickly right, left, then right again, each time just a hair's breadth from the snap of the whip.
The keys made their way back along the benches. Prisoners found their freedom, passed the keys back, then rushed forward to help J'role. A few of the slaves slipped on the ice patch, but most flung themselves into Redbeard, knocking the slave master to the ground and burying him under their bodies.
The keys reached me, and I undid my shackles. I jumped up—realized that was a mistake in my weakened condition—and staggered a moment. I covered my eyes with my hands and drew in a long, slow breath.
Footsteps came from the stairs. J'role turned, and a Theran sailor, his hair heavy and wet with rain, his silver and white clothes streaked with stains of blood, stared in horror and disbelief at the rebellion before him. In that pause J'role rushed up the stairs. The sailor swung his sword. J'role ducked beneath it and drove his right shoulder into the man's abdomen. The sword slammed into the stone wall, and the two men tumbled down the stairs and out onto the floor.
Redbeard screamed harsh words—obscenities, no doubt, and orders for us to free him. I moved quickly to the front of the hold, intending to ignore Redbeard in my desire to help J'role. I hadn't even gotten that far, however, before a group of slaves grabbed the guard's head, a dozen hands all at once. No word or signal had been given. A perverse communication of pain had passed from mind to mind. As a single, writhing entity of arms, they twisted Redbeard's head, first to the left then to the right. A sharp crack, much like the sound of his whip, resulted from the first twist. The second produced a simple grinding.
I rushed past the horrible scene and came up to J'role and the sailor rolling back and forth on the ground, each seeking the final, decisive advantage over the other. The other slaves were still enraptured by the fate of the Theran they hated most, and paid not the slightest attention to my husband's skirmish with an unknown sailor.
The sailor's sword lay on the ground. I picked it up and shouted at him, ordering him to surrender. My plan had been to use Redbeard as my hostage. That possibility removed, I decided to replace the slave master with the sailor.
Although the sailor did not understand my words, he turned quickly to find me standing behind him, sword raised high. He paused. In his eyes I saw him weighing a decision.
Then he tensed and rushed at me. I am no swordmaster, but I swung the blade down well enough, catching him in the shoulder. A splash of blood cut an arc through the air and spattered the gray stone wall. The sailor cried out in pain as J'role
J'role used that moment to wriggle free of the whip. With the deft motion of a well-practiced thief, he slipped the keys from Redbeard's belt. He then swung his upper body back up and began searching for the right key. But Redbeard was already scrabbling to stand. A slave stuck out his foot and tripped the slave master. Redbeard scrambled for balance on the ice, then fell back down. The slave smiled, something I'd never seen him do before in the two months he'd been with us.
A cheer went through room.
J'role found the key, undid his shackles, and stood. Another cheer and a rattling of chains filled the room. A charge of thick energy passed through us all. Suddenly we could remember the taste of freedom. We needed our chains undone now. J'role dodged a kick from Redbeard and tossed the keys to some people on benches behind him. Immediately they began fumbling with the keys to free themselves.
Meanwhile, Redbeard had scrambled up, avoiding the clawing hands of nearby slaves and the quick kicks of their legs. He stepped off the ice, whirled his whip back, and snapped it at J'role in three quick, successive blows. J'role moved quickly right, left, then right again, each time just a hair's breadth from the snap of the whip.
The keys made their way back along the benches. Prisoners found their freedom, passed the keys back, then rushed forward to help J'role. A few of the slaves slipped on the ice patch, but most flung themselves into Redbeard, knocking the slave master to the ground and burying him under their bodies.
The keys reached me, and I undid my shackles. I jumped up—realized that was a mistake in my weakened condition—and staggered a moment. I covered my eyes with my hands and drew in a long, slow breath.
Footsteps came from the stairs. J'role turned, and a Theran sailor, his hair heavy and wet with rain, his silver and white clothes streaked with stains of blood, stared in horror and disbelief at the rebellion before him. In that pause J'role rushed up the stairs. The sailor swung his sword. J'role ducked beneath it and drove his right shoulder into the man's abdomen. The sword slammed into the stone wall, and the two men tumbled down the stairs and out onto the floor.
Redbeard screamed harsh words—obscenities, no doubt, and orders for us to free him. I moved quickly to the front of the hold, intending to ignore Redbeard in my desire to help J'role. I hadn't even gotten that far, however, before a group of slaves grabbed the guard's head, a dozen hands all at once. No word or signal had been given. A perverse communication of pain had passed from mind to mind. As a single, writhing entity of arms, they twisted Redbeard's head, first to the left then to the right. A sharp crack, much like the sound of his whip, resulted from the first twist. The second produced a simple grinding.
I rushed past the horrible scene and came up to J'role and the sailor rolling back and forth on the ground, each seeking the final, decisive advantage over the other. The other slaves were still enraptured by the fate of the Theran they hated most, and paid not the slightest attention to my husband's skirmish with an unknown sailor.
The sailor's sword lay on the ground. I picked it up and shouted at him, ordering him to surrender. My plan had been to use Redbeard as my hostage. That possibility removed, I decided to replace the slave master with the sailor.
Although the sailor did not understand my words, he turned quickly to find me standing behind him, sword raised high. He paused. In his eyes I saw him weighing a decision.
Then he tensed and rushed at me. I am no swordmaster, but I swung the blade down well enough, catching him in the shoulder. A splash of blood cut an arc through the air and spattered the gray stone wall. The sailor cried out in pain as J'role
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