Well, friends, I spent four years as a slave and another working my way home after I escaped. Those bastards were either a hell of a lot faster getting up the cliff than I’d given them credit for or there were two parties, I never learned which.
But I did learn a lot about the world far from my village and I quickly learned to be a tough fighter. Under my third master I made gladiator, but the guy I came up against in my first tournament was a wily old bird. He popped me in the kneecap first off, I dropped like a sack, and I couldn’t walk straight even after it healed. That ended my hopes of fame and glory in the big city so I decided to head home.
Sure, they sent bounty hunters after me, but against them I was the wily old bird. After I left two of them lying in little pools of their own blood the rest decided to look for easier prey.
When I got back things had certainly changed. There’d been a plague. My folks were dead and most of the girls I grew up with were either married or six feet under. It was like I’d never been there. I was remembered, of course, but once I’d finished telling my tales I didn’t have a place in the village anymore. I had no land or wealth and I wasn’t much of a farmer.
As for Sarra—my, how she’d grown. She had a figure as beautiful as her voice, and her voice was lovelier than ever. And it looked like most of her dreams had come true: She lived in one of the big houses; she was married to a deep-chested warrior who, to my surprise, turned out to be Bassa; and she was respected in the community as a fortune-teller. But as yet they hadn’t started that big family she’d always said she’d have.
I finally met her alone one day and I asked her if she was still going out to Devil’s Rock. She said no. Then she looked closely at me and her eyes widened a bit.
“You were there that last night, weren’t you, Mikal?” she asked.
“Yes, I was there, but I didn’t know it was your last night at the Rock. That was when the slavers caught me and I’ve been away ever since.”
We talked some more after that, and we talked a lot more in the weeks that followed. Sarra wanted information on the world outside the village in a desperate way. Suddenly I had a place in the village again: I became the resident trader. Sarra provided me with a handcart and some goods. I’d take them off to barter, then come back and report to her on my travels. She was usually more interested in what I’d seen than in what I’d brought back.
We worked well together—though I could see she had more in mind than just trading. She wouldn’t tell me what but I was sure it was something big.