going to mount a rescue on their own, it would be happening now, under cover of dark. He didn't know how two people would break into somewhere so heavily guarded, find him, break him out, and escape with no one the wiser. Better to go get Nate. A force of mercenaries might be able to stop a caravan awkwardly leaving a city. They could create distractions so one person could break in and get to Ashe. They could overpower the guards, send up an alarm, call in the militia.
A group of mercenaries could do all sorts of things. Assuming they got here in time.
Ashe really didn't want to be a slave. Some rich man's exotic servant, as he guessed would be the case in lands without elves. Even worse, he'd heard that there were lands without magic, where creatures half human and half demon ruled and anyone unlike them was enslaved or killed. He really didn't want to go there.
He twisted his wrists again, yanking at the ropes until he felt blood sliding down his hands. It was no use; the rope was too tight. Ashe lay limp against the cage floor, pressing his face against the cool metal. The world was spinning again, though he couldn't say if it was from drugs or a lack of air or good, old-fashioned fear.
They had to come for him soon.
***
It came as some surprise to Ashe to realize he'd dozed off. He woke with a lurch at the sound of voices. Footsteps. A door opening and closing, the speakers suddenly louder.
Ashe yelled and kicked the bars of his cage again, setting up a racket made louder when the animals nearby started protesting as well.
The curtain hanging over his cage whipped away, and he blinked painfully in the sudden light. "Shut up," one of the guards-cum-servants snapped, and banged Ashe's cage with a staff, setting up a ringing that hummed right through Ashe's bones.
Ashe yelled again, kicking back. The servant knelt, moving with an unexpected swiftness. One hand clamped painfully on Ashe's ankles, yanking him closer. The other reached between the bars and grabbed his tunic, dragging him over and slamming him against the side of the cage. Leaning close, the servant practically whispered. "It is too early for this sort of ruckus. Behave yourself."
His breath reeked of stale beer and onions. Ashe pulled away uselessly, a slow ache building where he'd been slammed against the metal. The guard let him go and stood, picking up his dropped staff and walking away.
There were no windows in the room, but with the cloth removed he could see planes of glass set in the ceiling. Light filtered through; it was very early morning.
Ashe's heart sank. There was no way his crew could arrive so soon, and from the number of guards coming through the door and hauling cages and crates out, it wouldn't be long before the caravan left.
Surely, though, all of these guards and porters couldn't be comfortable kidnapping people. Ashe set up another ruckus, trying to get any attention he could. It came to an end, though, when one porter leaned toward another, both of them watching him, and single word was murmured.
"Thief."
Gagged, Ashe couldn't argue, and his vehement head shake met only disdain.
The sky above the glass panels was only slightly brighter by the time the last half dozen cages were carted out. The goods had gone first, the animals second. Only a few items were left; Ashe himself, the griffon, a flight of brightly colored creatures too small and quick to easily name. The dragon eggs were being carefully re-packed into a crate stuffed with straw. That was the first time Ashe saw Byron again, entering to make sure the eggs were cared for properly. Ashe yelled some more, and hoped they couldn't hear his desperation behind his gag.
Byron glanced at him once, then paid him no more heed.
Two men came in, lifting the delicate cage full of quick little creatures and carrying it with extreme care out the door, leaving only the griffon, the eggs, and Ashe.
And no sign of a rescue. The sky above the glass was still a raw pink. Too
A group of mercenaries could do all sorts of things. Assuming they got here in time.
Ashe really didn't want to be a slave. Some rich man's exotic servant, as he guessed would be the case in lands without elves. Even worse, he'd heard that there were lands without magic, where creatures half human and half demon ruled and anyone unlike them was enslaved or killed. He really didn't want to go there.
He twisted his wrists again, yanking at the ropes until he felt blood sliding down his hands. It was no use; the rope was too tight. Ashe lay limp against the cage floor, pressing his face against the cool metal. The world was spinning again, though he couldn't say if it was from drugs or a lack of air or good, old-fashioned fear.
They had to come for him soon.
***
It came as some surprise to Ashe to realize he'd dozed off. He woke with a lurch at the sound of voices. Footsteps. A door opening and closing, the speakers suddenly louder.
Ashe yelled and kicked the bars of his cage again, setting up a racket made louder when the animals nearby started protesting as well.
The curtain hanging over his cage whipped away, and he blinked painfully in the sudden light. "Shut up," one of the guards-cum-servants snapped, and banged Ashe's cage with a staff, setting up a ringing that hummed right through Ashe's bones.
Ashe yelled again, kicking back. The servant knelt, moving with an unexpected swiftness. One hand clamped painfully on Ashe's ankles, yanking him closer. The other reached between the bars and grabbed his tunic, dragging him over and slamming him against the side of the cage. Leaning close, the servant practically whispered. "It is too early for this sort of ruckus. Behave yourself."
His breath reeked of stale beer and onions. Ashe pulled away uselessly, a slow ache building where he'd been slammed against the metal. The guard let him go and stood, picking up his dropped staff and walking away.
There were no windows in the room, but with the cloth removed he could see planes of glass set in the ceiling. Light filtered through; it was very early morning.
Ashe's heart sank. There was no way his crew could arrive so soon, and from the number of guards coming through the door and hauling cages and crates out, it wouldn't be long before the caravan left.
Surely, though, all of these guards and porters couldn't be comfortable kidnapping people. Ashe set up another ruckus, trying to get any attention he could. It came to an end, though, when one porter leaned toward another, both of them watching him, and single word was murmured.
"Thief."
Gagged, Ashe couldn't argue, and his vehement head shake met only disdain.
The sky above the glass panels was only slightly brighter by the time the last half dozen cages were carted out. The goods had gone first, the animals second. Only a few items were left; Ashe himself, the griffon, a flight of brightly colored creatures too small and quick to easily name. The dragon eggs were being carefully re-packed into a crate stuffed with straw. That was the first time Ashe saw Byron again, entering to make sure the eggs were cared for properly. Ashe yelled some more, and hoped they couldn't hear his desperation behind his gag.
Byron glanced at him once, then paid him no more heed.
Two men came in, lifting the delicate cage full of quick little creatures and carrying it with extreme care out the door, leaving only the griffon, the eggs, and Ashe.
And no sign of a rescue. The sky above the glass was still a raw pink. Too
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