Ansel glanced at his men. “I’m less than overjoyed to hear that. We had people in place to prevent that kind of sloppiness as we welcomed you to your new home.”
“Where are we?”
Ansel grinned. Not a happy grin. It was the grin of a killer who knew the police would never find the body. “That’s the question, now, isn’t it? See, we’re not in Arizona anymore. We’re not on Earth. I’m no astronomer, but this might not even be the same universe as Earth. We’re in the Outskirts. Junction, specifically, between the five kingdoms.”
“And that means you can kidnap people?”
Ansel glanced at his men. “Scarecrow has the right questions.” The lantern swung a little, squeaking. “In Arizona, yes, I stole your friends, and in those parts they might find me guilty. Your problem is, we’re not there no more. Once we reached the Outskirts and marked those kids, they became our property according to the law of the land here. And by trying to take my property, Scarecrow, well, you made yourself a criminal.”
Cole felt sick. How could they accuse him of wrongdoing for trying to help his kidnapped friends? Everything was upside down. “I don’t know the laws here.”
Ansel chuckled, and his grin almost became sincere. “Wouldn’t that be nice, fellas, if you only had to keep the laws you knew about? I’d spend my life traveling, and I’d stay as ignorant as possible.” He eyed Cole up and down. “You working alone?”
Cole almost laughed. “You guys better watch it. My backup will be here any second.”
Ansel became expressionless in a scary way. “That wasn’t an answer. One more try. You working alone?”
Cole nodded. “Yeah. I’m alone. Nobody else got away.”
“If you lie to me . . . that’ll be it.”
“I’m not lying.” They stared at each other in silence for a moment. “What are you going to do with me?”
The grin returned, cunning this time. “You tell me, Scarecrow.”
Cole swallowed. All eyes watched him expectantly. “I become a slave?”
Ansel held his sickle higher, his eyes caressing the blade. “My vote was to take away your hands and feet as an example. Slavers can’t have people swiping their merchandise. Bad for business. But . . . Scarecrow . . . you caught me in a good mood. How often does that happen, fellas?”
All the other men found someplace else to look.
Ansel stepped closer to Cole. “Notice how they don’t answer? Well, that’s your answer. But we made a fine haul tonight, best in a long while, so I’m going to grant your wish and take you as a slave.” He raised his voice, calling over his shoulder. “Secha? Tag him! He’ll walk behind the rear wagon tomorrow. No food or water. We’ll let him keep his extremities, but that don’t mean we got to coddle the boy. Show’s over. Now let’s get settled again. We start our march in the morning.”
Ansel retreated several paces, boots crunching over the dry ground. The woman who had eaten the cockroach approached with a lantern of her own. She held it out toward Cole. “You’re the one that swung your bag at the lantern.”
Cole nodded.
She gave him a penetrating stare. Cole glanced away.
“Look me in the eye, young man,” Secha said.
He stared at her. She leaned in close, never breaking eye contact. Her fingers contorted into weird positions. Then she examined his hands front and back.
“Worst of the lot,” she said. “No shaping potential at all. The High King won’t pay a lead ringer for this one.”
Ansel shook his head. “Had I known that, I would have made an example of him.”
“Still could,” Secha said over her shoulder.
“Nah, I already passed judgment. Following the wagon will suffice.” Ansel walked off.
“Be glad I’m not in charge,” Secha told Cole. “I would have fed you to Carnag.”
“What’s Carnag?” Cole asked.
The men guarding him chuckled at his ignorance.
Secha frowned. “Depends who you ask. The reports are mixed. But consensus has it that Carnag is a monster like we’ve never seen anywhere in the five kingdoms. People are scared. We’re not too far from Sambria, where the monster has been prowling.”
“You’re right,” Cole said. “I’m glad you’re not in charge.”
“Let’s get the bondmark on you so I can turn in,” Secha said. “Hold out your hand.”
Cole briefly considered resistance. But two men stood right behind him. For all he knew, if he made a fuss, Ansel would return with his sickle. Cole extended his left hand.
Secha produced a drawstring bag and opened the mouth. The third finger on her left hand had an extra long nail. She dipped it into the bag.
“Hold still,” she told Cole, then turned to one of the men. “Help him.”
One of the slavers grabbed Cole’s arm just above the wrist. The other man braced himself against Cole from behind. Cole clenched his teeth. If they were holding him like this, it meant the mark was going to hurt. He tried to ready himself for the pain.
When her fingernail touched his wrist, it felt extremely hot and cold at the same time. He wanted to yank his hand away, but the brawny redhead held him tightly. Secha moved her lips as she traced a simple pattern with her fingernail. Then she backed away. The bondmark she had drawn blazed an angry red. It still felt hot and cold, though not as intensely as when her nail was in contact with his skin.
“Try not to touch it,” Secha advised. “You’ll slow the healing.” She turned and strode away.
With a viselike hand on his shoulder, the redhead marched Cole over to the rear of one of the cages and chained him to it with a tight manacle on his unmarked wrist.
“Not a sound,” the redhead threatened. “We’ll reorganize the slaves according to value in the morning. The best go up front. You’ll walk behind the last wagon. Better sleep. Long day tomorrow.”
The redhead walked away. Cole didn’t know any of the kids in this wagon. They were pretending to be asleep, but he had seen two of them peek at him.
Cole got down on the ground. He had no blanket. The earth was lumpy and hard. The chain wasn’t long enough to let his hand rest on the ground, and his wrist dangled about four inches up.
He couldn’t see Dalton or Jenna. Their wagons were lost in shadows, and he had no desire to draw more attention to himself by calling out to them.