Irona 700 Read Online Free PDF Page A

servant, ma’am,” he told her sandals.
    Irona recoiled so that she almost fell back into the chair. Trodelat gestured encouragingly. Irona shook her head, not understanding.
    â€œThe correct response is, ‘Rise, guardsman.’”
    â€œRise, guardsman.” Irona could feel her cheeks burning, mostly because she knew that her ignorance had been deliberately thrown in her face.
    She could almost swear that the soldier bore a faint smirk as he straightened up and glanced at his mistress for orders. He had an old white slave brand on his right shoulder, and a freedman brand, more recent, on his left. There were slaves in Brackish, of course, although her mother could not afford one. Father would not use them on the ship because he found them lazy and untrustworthy.
    â€œIrona 700 and I will be returning to my residence,” Trodelat said. “Two litters, and I want the best bearers.”
    â€œAlways, ma’am!”
    â€œNo. This morning’s were pathetic.”
    A dangerous glint showed in the big man’s eyes. “I am rebuked. I will choose them myself, ma’am.”
    The shocks were coming too fast. Irona had never even seen a litter before that day, let alone ridden in one.
    â€œWe shall be mostly going uphill, my dear,” her tutor explained as they headed through the temple to a gate on the inland side, “so you recline with your head at the front. It’s more comfortable that way. Keep the gauze curtains drawn always, then you can see and not be seen. Order the outer ones closed if you wish. Today your bearers will follow mine. I’ll explain how to signal your orders another day.”
    Irona had not realized how steep the city was. She felt sorry for the slaves who had to carry her litter. They were required to maintain a fast jog, while Captain Jamarko and his five armed assistants ran alongside or ahead. The stairs and alleyways were still crowded because of the festival—although Sklom had told her that the city was always crowded. One of Jamarko’s men beat a drum to warn pedestrians to clear a passage. Anyone slow to move was roughly thrust aside.
    The temple was located near the docks, in the Old City, built on the limited flat land near the shore, where it rubbed shoulders with warehouses, businesses, and markets. The Mountain rose steeply above it: not in a continuous grade, Irona now realized, but in innumerable shelves and terraces, separated by cliffs and chopped up by ravines. Traffic moved on human feet. There were few roads of any length, and many staircases, even bridges. At the summit, she knew, stood the First’s Palace, where the business of government was done.
    Feeling sorry for slaves and other pedestrians was a pointless exercise when she should have been admiring all the splendid buildings and spectacular views, but she arrived at her destination with almost no memories of those. The size of Trodelat’s house amazed her. It had at least thirty rooms, and the one she was told was to be hers—all to herself!—was twice the size of her father’s house.
    There she was taken in hand by a couple of body slaves, whose names she had to learn again the next day. They washed her all over with Source Water, trimmed off nine-tenths of her hair, shampooed the remainder, and then rubbed it up with a sea marten fur. This, they explained, had the power to make hair curly and shiny and it certainly worked for her. She had not known why sea martens were so prized, although she knew how pleased her father was when his men managed to catch even a single one. They were smaller than otters, and yet so valuable that South Wind would put about at once and race straight home with this one tiny cargo, so that the pelt would be delivered fresh to the tanners. Sea martens were found only in the far north, so they were probably tainted by the evil of the Dread Lands.
    The girls dressed her in a tunic of sea-green silk, which she felt