This time Sábria turned her back to the crowd and murmured to Fiyori, “Shirin always knows the best way to put the fear of the Goddess into a potential mob. I wouldn’t have thought of the drummers.” Both women watched as the warriors drew near and when they stopped in front of the outer gate, they took that as their cue to descend to the cobblestone courtyard. She paused at the gate to straighten her tunic and was surprised when Master Fiyori stopped beside her. “Jestína, this probably isn’t the place for you. I’m afraid things could get ugly.”

  The Magistrate looked down from her considerable height and glared at the Arch Priestess. Where Lord Dunham resembled an eagle, Jestína, unfortunately, resembled a duck, with her close-set eyes placed to either side of a long, broad nose. Emphasizing the look was her choice of hairstyles. She wore her grey hair puffed on top of her head and then pulled into a bun at the nape of her neck. Every time Sábria saw a white-crested Dupont duck swimming lazily in the pond toward the back of the Temple grounds, she thought of her wonderful but stern Lord High Magistrate. “Ugly or not, Sábria, in this instance, my place is by your side, and that’s where I intend to be.”

  Knowing that arguing with Jestína was an exercise in futility, Sábria decided to give in gracefully. Sighing, she turned and called out, “Terrowyn.”

  The Senior Guardian, who was waiting just outside the gate, came to stand in front of her. “Milady?”

  “I saw Killian and Emlyn stationed nearby. Bring them to me, please.” Killian was an excellent swordswoman, and Emlyn’s only job from the time she was small until she’d joined the Temple had been to guard a high-ranking noblewoman. There was no doubt in Sábria’s mind they were up to the task of guarding the Lord High Magistrate.

  Terrowyn saluted, stepped to the gate, and, with a piercing whistle coded specifically to summon Killian, had the two women standing before Sábria in a matter of moments.

  Placing a hand on the Magistrate’s shoulder, Sábria looked Killian in the eye to emphasize the importance of her orders. “Your only assignment, until she’s safely back in the Annex, is to guard Master Fiyori.”

  When Killian nodded, Sábria caught and held Emlyn’s eyes. She acknowledged the order with a fist to her chest and the two women stepped into position, flanking the Magistrate, who rolled her eyes and, as her Arch Priestess had done moments before, gave in with dignity.

  Instead of joining the thirty Blades forming the cordon around the prisoners, Shirin set into motion the plan she’d hastily worked out with Subcommander Arenda. At Shirin’s nod, Arenda turned to Prime Geller and Prime Osstendler and bellowed, “Wedge and block.”

  Each Prime led approximately sixty warriors down either side of the street, pushing the crowd apart and forming a clear lane for Sábria and her prisoners to walk down. Anyone who didn’t move fast enough was helped along the way by heavy strikes from the truncheons of the Blades and City Guards stationed among the onlookers. The warriors formed two lines that held the people pinned against the walls for however long it would take for the Arch Priestess to walk by.

  Shirin strode through the gate and bowed to Sábria. “We’re ready for you, My Lady. Subcommander Calit has charge of the prisoner detail. I’ll be your personal guard along with Terrowyn and Marne.” She glanced at the High Magistrate, and it was only because Sábria knew her so well that she could tell her second wasn’t happy with the addition. Stepping to the side, Shirin indicated the gate with a wave.

  Sábria stepped through the gate with Shirin on her left and Fiyori on her right. Terrowyn and Marne walked before them while Killian and Emlyn brought up the rear. Sábria thought it overkill, but she’d been the one to throw this on Shirin at the last minute, and she didn’t have much room to complain.

  Subcommander Calit came next, followed by the prisoners who were flanked on either side by thirty Blades, fifteen to each side.

  The entire procession moved through the lane formed by the one hundred and twenty Blades. Sábria reflected that if Aloric had meant to make a mockery of her by encouraging the large crowd and planting agitators, his plan had backfired. She’d meant for the prisoners to be taken to the docks by the thirty Blades who made up the cordon. Now, over one hundred and sixty Blades plus a large contingent of the City Watch escorted his spies to the docks where they’d be imprisoned on Captain Aldean’s ship, The Boulston.

  Even though Sábria had only met the captain a few days earlier, Prya had assured her he was a good and honorable man who would deliver his cargo exactly where she ordered. Sábria had paid him more than his asking price, requiring him to retrofit two of his holds, one with shackles and hammocks for the prisoners and a second with cots and other items for whatever families decided to sail with them. He’d hired an extra cook and had assured her he would transport the prisoners and their families as humanely as possible.

  Once they’d moved past three-quarters of the Blades in the lane, at Geller’s shouted command, the final quarter folded into a spear point, and the entire contingent moved inexorably forward, parting the crowd like the bow of a ship cutting through the ocean waves. This, along with many other crowd control techniques, was practiced continually by every one of Elyon’s Blades. Sábria expected her people to be ready for any contingency, and she was proud of the way the women handled themselves in a crowd of over one thousand onlookers.

  As if reading her thoughts, Jestína leaned in close. “I’m impressed, Sábria. I know you demand rigid discipline and perfection from your Blades, but this is quite extraordinary. I’ve never witnessed this aspect of Temple life.”

  “Shirin and her training masters are quite thorough and consistent. Each Blade trains with weapons daily and drills in different formations and urban battle tactics once a sevenday. They don’t all train at once, but what they learn in small groups is easily expanded to fit the needs of the moment.”

  The Magistrate was quiet for about a block, watching the way the warriors moved effortlessly in tandem with one another. “It’s a difficult life, but you never lack for women who want to join. I wonder how many realize how hard their lives will be when they join the Blades.”

  “We try to explain everything before they commit. Yes, it’s a difficult life, but you know we’re not only warriors. We’re a family who looks out for our own. I think that’s what draws the women to us like moths to a flame. They want to be part of something…more.”

  It took the better part of a candlemark to walk what would typically take half that long. When they reached the docks without a major incident, Sábria breathed a sigh of relief. She stepped to the foot of the gangplank and waited for the prisoners to arrive.

  Five women and two men waited with hastily packed bags. None of them had children with them, something Sábria was happy to see. She hadn’t wanted to sentence younglings to a harsh life on a deserted island, and apparently, some of the mothers had decided their men had chosen their lot in life, and they could reap the consequences without pulling their family down with them.

  When everyone was assembled, Sábria looked sideways at Shirin. “I'm going on board to inspect Captain Aldine's work on the prisoner's accommodations.”

  Nodding, Shirin glanced at Terrowyn and Marne, who immediately ascended the gangplank. They heard Marne ask permission from the captain to come aboard, and when he granted it, the two stepped to either side of the gangplank and stood at attention.

  Sábria followed, and when she reached the top, the captain stepped forward and offered his hand. “Welcome aboard th' Boulston, Milady.”

  Even though she had no need of his assistance, Sábria placed her hand in his and stepped down onto the deck. “Thank you. You sent word yesterday that the ship was ready to receive the prisoners. That was quick work.”

  “Aye. I have two carpenters and one ironworker in my crew who worked nonstop until the work was done. They're right proud of the work they did fer th' Arch Priestess of th' Daughters of Elyon, too.”

  He glanced over his shoulder at three men standing just below the quarterdeck, holding their caps in their hands. All three had a fresh-faced just-washed look, with their cheeks pink from a thorough scrubbing and their wet hair slicked back and trim.

  Sábria, flanked by Marne, smiled at the men and walked over to speak with them. “Captain Aldean tells me you worked day and night to prepare the hold for the prisoners.”

  The burliest of the three bowed low, followed hastily by the other two. He was apparently the boldest of the group because he straightened and grinned. “Aye, Milady. Were an honor to be hired by one such as ye, th' Arch Priestess an' all.”

  The one to his left nodded vigorously. “Aye. We only know'd Priestesses what treat folks like shite, an' when we learned ya were different and that ya took in our Prya, we done started worshipin' yer Elyon.”

  The skinny man next to him raised his brows. “And th' other Priestess we glimpsed in Kibrun were a mean, fat slob, weren't she? An’ yer no fat nor a slob.”

  Marne, who wasn't well-versed in correcting people in a tactful or diplomatic manner, took an aggressive step forward and opened her mouth to berate the men for the disrespectful way they'd spoken to her Priestess.

  Shirin put a hand on her shoulder to silence her. Indicating with a slight pull that Marne should step back, she stepped into her place. “Lads, we thank you for your work, but Lady Sábria is one of the rulers of the Cibían Empire and, as such, deserves our utmost respect. You don't speak to her in the same way you'd address your wives and friends.”

  The three men paled and bowed again, mumbling their apologies at their gaff.

  Sábria smiled at them. “Would you take me below decks and show me your work?”

  All three sets of eyes locked onto their Captain, who shook his head. “I'll be honored to take ya down, Milady. I wanted ya to meet the three what did yer work, even though they aren't as polished as should be.”

  “Well, then….” she addressed the three who were staring at her with something close to adoration in their eyes and thought how much she enjoyed simple folk who spoke their minds and didn't have any alternate agenda behind their words. “Thank you for your hard work, and I know the Goddess accepts your worship.” She decided it wouldn't hurt to add, “And if you are going to worship her, that means you'll be kind to all women and protect them from harm.”

  They all three nodded and pulled on their forelocks. Grinning like fools, they said in unison, “Aye, Milady.”

  The captain led her to a hatch, but before she could descend, Shirin indicated Marne should go first. When Marne made to obey, the Commander put a hand on her arm and added, “With your permission, Captain.”

  Aldean, who'd pulled his pipe from his pocket, squinted at Shirin before nodding. “It's perfectly safe…er?” Not knowing Shirin's rank, he stopped and raised his brows.

  “My apologies. I'm Commander Shirin, Lady Sábria's second in command.”

  “Ah. All parts of me ship are safe fer th' Arch Priestess, Commander, but I understand th' ways of th' military.” He lifted his chin at Marne. “Go ahead, Lass.” As Marne stepped through the hatch, Aldean returned his gaze to Shirin and got a twinkle in his eyes. “And I'm that glad Prya didn't break yer hand. It's better now, Aye?”

  Giving him the abashed look she knew he was watching for, Shirin held out her hand for his inspection. “It is. And I'm thankful Prya didn't shatter this fool's knuckles.”

  He grinned and turned his attention to Sábria. “Ya took her in?”

  “I did. She's welcome to stay as long as she likes.” She put a hand on his arm. “We'll take care of her, Captain. Body and soul.”

  “I were hopin' ya would. She needs some kindness in her life after all she's been through.”

  The party descended below decks, and when they'd climbed down the third set of steps, he led them to a hold that had been separated into two rooms. One side had been further separated by a canvas wall. The first area had eight canvas hammocks hanging from eyeholes screwed into the wooden ceiling. Next to each hammock, the chain of a steel wrist cuff was bolted into the wall. Each hammock also had a pisspot sitting beneath it. The room on the other side of the canvas was set up exactly like the first, except there were only four hammocks in that one.

  A door set in the wooden wall separating these spaces from another room stood open, and stepping through, Sábria found another room set up for the families. There were both hammocks and cots, a dining table and chairs bolted into the floor, and what looked to be a play corral set up for children.

  Aldean shrugged when Sábria walked to the corral. “All of us have bairns, Milady, and we weren't sure whether some would bring their younglings on board. We're that relieved to see there weren't none standin' on th' docks, but we needed to be prepared, didn't we?”

  Sighing, Sábria agreed, “I was hoping not to see children leaving with them, as well, but the fact that you prepared for them tells me I needn't worry about how these men and women will be treated. You're a good man, Captain, just as Prya assured me.”

  The clanking of chains caught their ears as the prisoners filed into the hold on the other side of the wall. Soon after, the seven family members filed into the room Sábria was in. Most of them bowed or curtseyed, but two remained standing. The hatred in their eyes told her everything she needed to know.

  Sábria left the room and climbed up to the main deck. Just as she was stepping off the gangplank onto the dock, a mouse of a woman climbed onto the opening in the gunnel and hurried down the gangplank after her. Her way was blocked by Shirin, who was exiting behind the Priestess.

  “Milady. Please. I need t' talk t' ya. Please.”

  Shirin, who'd turned to face the woman when she'd run after Sábria, glanced over her shoulder. When Sábria nodded, Shirin held her hands out, indicating the woman should do the same. “Hold out your hands. Do you have any weapons?”

  The woman did as ordered. “No, Milady.”

  While she checked the woman's body for hidden knives or vials of contact poison, Shirin quietly said. “You refer to me as Commander.” When she knew the woman was safe, she allowed her to step all of the way down to stand in front of Sábria.

  The woman curtseyed and then, biting her bottom lip, nervously scanned the crowd over the heads of the Blades, who were barring people from stepping onto the pier. The party had moved with the onlookers. Ever ready to make some coin, the vendors had pushed their carts over the cobbles to accommodate the new location. Many of the people were happy and laughing, and the raucous noise created by the vendors hawking their baked goods and meats and the people calling out their orders seemed to hold the woman in thrall.

  “How can I help you?” Sábria didn't want to loiter any longer than necessary.

  The woman blinked, suddenly remembering she was standing in front of the most powerful woman in the land. The color drained from her face, and it seemed her bravery fled right along with it. “I…I….” Swallowing hard, she stared at Sábria’s boots and lapsed into total silence.

  The Lord High Magistrate came to stand beside Sábria. “Is everything all right?” When the woman sketched another quick curtsy, Master Fiyori's eyes narrowed. “You've been in my courtroom several times, haven't you?”

  Blushing, the woman croaked her answer through a throat gone dry with fear. “A…a…aye, Milady.” She curtseyed again for good measure.

  Master Fiyori crossed her arms. “You come before me battered and bruised, and every single time, you say nothing happened when it's been perfectly obvious to everyone in the courtroom that you were severely beaten, and in one case, if I remember correctly, you said you'd accidentally hit your mouth on a box, and that's how you came to lose those four missing teeth.”

  Sábria laid a hand on the Magistrate's arm to stop her. She wanted to leave as soon as possible so the crowd would disperse. “Again, Child, how can I help you?”

  The woman glanced at Sábria through stringy, brown bangs that had fallen over her face. After a quick look at the Magistrate and another long look at the crowd, she whispered, “I don't want to go.”

  “Then why are you here?”

  The woman shrank into herself but apparently, her need won out over her fear and she found her voice. “They said they'd kill me if I stayed, but I can't go. He'll kill me if I go, and they'll kill me if I stay.” She fell to her knees and grabbed Sábria around the legs. “Please, Milady. I don't want t’ die.”

  Shirin immediately grabbed her with both hands and hauled her back and away from the Arch Priestess. “Who’ll kill you if you stay?”

  All three women had a difficult time understanding the woman’s words through the sobs wracking her body. “His…his family.”

  How many times had Sábria been through this exact scenario? Mhina and Ladin, who'd been part of the thirty who'd escorted the prisoners onto the ship, were just now coming off the gangplank. Sábria called them over. “Mhina, I need the two of you to escort this woman to the Temple. She's under my protection if anyone tries to take her from you.”

  Mhina nodded. “Understood.” When Shirin released her to them, the dark-skinned woman took the pidge’s arm.

  Shirin looked at the Blade and her shiv. “Stay close to us. You'll have more protection that way. It sounds like her abusive husband's family is trying to force her to go with him.”

  “Yes, Commander.”

  Subcommander Calit shouted, “Wedge and block!” and the process of getting the Arch Priestess and the Magistrate back to the Annex began. They’d had to take the long way because the alleys and smaller streets people normally took between the middle city and the docks were too narrow to get such a large contingent through.

  They were finally moving into the Market District when a group of seven scruffy men and women started hurling bread, stones, and discarded pieces of wood at Mhina, Ladin, and the woman they were escorting. “Get back where ya belong, ya sweiven skudlicker.”