The Steel Remains Read Online Free PDF Page B

“Why can't Father do it? It's not like he doesn't have the manpower.”
    Ishil looked away. “You know your father's opinion of my family.And Dersin's side are practically full- blood marsh dwellers if you go back a couple of generations. Hardly worthy of his favors. Anyway, Gingren won't go against the edicts. You know how things are since the war. It's legal. Sherin was sold legally.”
    “You could still appeal it. There's provision in the charter. Get Bilgrest to go on his knees to the Chancellery, offer public apology and restitution, you act as guarantor if Dersin can't come up with the cash and Father doesn't want to get his hands dirty.”
    “Don't you think we tried that?”
    “So what happened?”
    Sudden, imperious flare of anger, a side of Ishil he'd nearly forgotten. “What happened, Ringil, is that Bilgrest
hanged himself rather
than apologize. That's what happened.”
    “Ooops.”
    “It isn't funny.”
    “No, I suppose not.” He swallowed some more tea. “Very noble, though. Death before dishonor and all that. And from a finished- goods merchant, too. Remarkable. Father must have been impressed despite himself.”
    “This is not about you and your father, Ringil.”
    The ladies- in- waiting froze. Ishil's shout bounced off the low roof of the dining chamber, brought curious faces gawping at the doorway to the kitchen and the window out into the yard. The men- at- arms exchanged glances, wondering almost visibly if they were expected to throw some weight around and drive these peasants back to minding their own business. Ringil caught the eye of one of them, shook his head slightly. Ishil compressed her lips, drew a long deep breath.
    “This doesn't concern your father,” she said quietly. “I know better than to rely on him. It's a favor I'm asking of you.”
    “My days of fighting for the cause of justice, truth, and light are done, Mother.”
    She drew herself up on her seat. “I'm not interested in justice or truth. This is family.”
    Ringil closed his eyes again, massaged them with finger and thumb at the bridge of his nose. “Why me?”
    “Because you know these people, Gil.” She reached across the tableand touched his free hand with the back of hers. His eyes jerked open at the contact. “You used to rub our faces in the fact enough when you lived at home. You can go places in Trelayne that I can't, that your father
wont
go. You can—”
    She bit her lip.
    “Break the edicts,” he finished for her drearily.
    “I promised Dersin.”
    “Mother.” Abruptly, something seemed to dislodge a chunk of his hangover. Anger and a tight sense of the unfairness of it all came welling up and fed him an obscure strength. “Do you know what you're asking me to do? You know what the profit margins are on slaving. Have you got any idea what kind of incentives that generates, what kind of behavior? These people don't fuck about, you know.”
    “I know.”
    “No, you
don't
fucking know. You said yourself, it's weeks since this went down. If Sherin's certifiably barren— and these people have warlocks who can find that out in pretty short order— then she's a sure shot for the professional concubine end of the market, which means she's probably
already
been shipped out of Trelayne to a Parashal training stable. It could take me weeks to find out where that is, and by then she'll more than likely be on her way to the auction block again, anywhere in the League or maybe even south to the Empire. I'm not a one- man army.”
    “At Gallows Gap, they say you were.”
    “Oh,
please.”
    He stared morosely into the depths of his tea.
You know these people, Ringil.
With less of a headache, he might have laughed. Yes, he knew these people. He'd known them when slavery was still technically illegal in the city- states and they made an easier living from other illicit trades. In fact,
known
didn't really cut it— like a lot of Trelayne's moneyed youth, he'd been an avid customer of
these