Everyone was reacting differently. Rillik wanted to kill every human on the whole continent. Brallik did nothing but complain. As always, Orvan was quietly sinking in his grief. Diavla sympathized but she needed to set such things aside for the time being. The world continued whether one was ready or not.

She looked at Tom, who had fallen back asleep in moments, then at everyone else. “If he's serious about letting us choose the plan, then we need to choose it. What do people think?”

“We can either hide in the forest, or work with Tom,” Arven noted.

“Or both; we might split up,” Kervan pointed out.

Diavla was filled with dread. Splitting up is a terrible idea. How do I convince them of this?

“We could drive the wagons for him until we get to the middle of the forest. That's two days' travel. It's totally to our benefit to be deeper in, farther from humans,” Brallik suggested.

“And then what about the tokens? Do we just ask him to put them away and touch them once a week as a favor?” Kervan asked sarcastically. “Or, can we get him to take the cursed collars off?”

“If he's sincere, he'll do it as soon as we ask,” Diavla mused.

“But if he realizes that he has control over us through the collars, then what? That's a lot of temptation,” Sheema pointed out.

You are a lot of temptation, the most of all of us, Diavla thought. I don't blame you for being worried.

Aloud, she said, “that's assuming he doesn't already know.”

“Do we tell him?” Varga looked at everyone.

“Sooner or later he'll ask about the collars, I expect.”

“I'm surprised he hasn't already.”

“Well, we've been learning each other's languages, he's got a head injury, and he's exhausted from Healing. I expect it either slipped his mind, or he's not bringing it up because he already knows.”

“But if he knows, he must know that we know, so why dance around it?” Diavla shook her head. “No, I think he just hasn't thought about it yet.” She couldn't decide whether trusting the human was a good move or not, but couldn't see a way around it. “I don't think we have a choice. We have to tell him if we're going to ask him to take the collars off. He's going to figure it out eventually. If we don't ask, we're just waiting for him to think of it and hoping that he's willing. Better to be straightforward about it, I expect.”

“Do you really think he would let us go?” Brallik demanded.

“I don't know. What do people think of him?” Diavla asked.

“I think he's in way over his head.” Arven stared at the human for a moment. “He's young, and perhaps foolish. But he's trying. He wasn't asking us to decide because he's indecisive; he really likes his idea. He's trying to give us the freedom to choose.”

“Or the illusion of it.” Kervan shook his head. “The proof will come when we say we want to do something he doesn't want us to do.”

“True enough. What do you think, Diavla?”

She considered. “He's learning Elvish. He didn't have to do that.” She tapped a finger against her lips as she thought, an old habit. “He gave us the key when he thought he was dying. When the outcome would not affect him, he chose to be kind.”

“He's trying not to leer at me,” Sheema put in. “He looks, but then he turns away. It looks like politeness. I don't think he would be polite if he was thinking of us as his property.”

Brallik snorted. “Give it a couple of days. Once the reality sinks in he will start to feel tempted.” Diavla glared at him and he belatedly seemed to realize that what he was saying was likely to upset the Healer.

Sheema didn't show much reaction beyond a faint grimace, though. “Well, I'll try to stay out of his sight except when Healing him. Diavla? Would you take over changing his bandages?”

“Certainly. I may not be a Healer but I can at least dress a wound.”

“Thanks.”

“What do people think of Tom's plan?” Varga asked. “I kind of like the idea. It's risky, but could be really good for us if he can be trusted.”

“The wagons are worth a fortune, even without considering our sale value. Perhaps he will be happy with the rest of the gold and be willing to free us.”

“Yeah, but then what? We're in the middle of the human continent! I don't even know how many countries we would have to sneak through to get to the sea, and then how do we get a boat without a pile of gold like Tom suggests?”

“The most unbelievable part is him thinking he's going to share the gold with us and only take a ninth part. He'll be rethinking that almost immediately,” Brallik predicted. “So it won't be our pile of gold, it will be his.”

“Unless he's a human of his word. It might be that he regrets the offer but still holds up his end of the deal.” Diavla sighed. “We just don't know enough about him yet.”

Kervan cleared his throat. “I like Brallik's plan. We drive the wagons for Tom for the first couple of days towards this Rivermarch he mentioned. We watch him, and based on that we guess whether he will take off the collars. Then we'll find out whether all our arguing here is pointless or not. If he knows how the collars work and threatens to kill us if we don't obey him, I can't see how we have any other option that doesn't get us all killed immediately.”

“We're still completely in his power,” Sheema agreed. “It's just a matter of whether he realizes it, and what he does when he figures it out.”

“I say we go with Brallik and Kervan's idea. Let's work with Tom until we reach the center of the forest and then decide what to do next. How does that sound?” Diavla asked the group. She looked around and saw agreement or at least acceptance from everyone. “Then it's decided. For the next two days, we travel with Tom.”

There was quiet except for the crackling of the fire. Then Varga slapped her thighs. “Well! Now that that's done with, I for one am going to drink a toast to our freedom, however long it lasts. I think there's a tapped keg over there with a crush on me and I refuse to break its heart. Who's up for trying human ale?”

∘ ⛥ ⛯ ⛥ ∘

The ale wasn't too bad, and freedom, even fleeting freedom, was a wonderful spice. Everyone tried a mug, but Arven immediately put his down. Diavla was glad he was going to keep a clear head. Varga drank until she obviously started to feel good. Kervan drank in moderation. Brallik stopped Orvan from drinking much because it made him even more maudlin. Brallik even chose to sit with him apart from the others and talk quietly, which Diavla appreciated.

She felt more at peace than she had in ages. Her mind started to drift back to nights she cried quietly in the cage, but she resolutely pushed those thoughts down. Nothing good comes from that. Don't let yesterday ruin today.

Varga wandered over to the draft animals and started making silly noises at them, which got funnier after Diavla drank more ale. Finally, the incredible day caught up to Diavla, and she blearily asked Arven to keep watch before lying down to sleep. For a few moments, she stared up at the sky.

At least the stars are the same as back home.

∘ ⛥ ⛯ ⛥ ∘

Diavla woke at dawn, again to the sound of strange bird calls. She found that she had a sniffle and a headache, her body stiff and cold. I didn't use enough blankets. Annoying, but not debilitating. No one was curled up with her this time. Diavla frowned, then winced at a twinge of pain from the action. She struggled to sit up, looked around, and did a quick count of everyone.

Kervan was on watch. She saw the sleeping forms of Brallik, Rillik, Arven, Orvan, Sheema, Varga… She sat up straighter and stared. Varga, you must jest.

Tom was lying on his back, and Varga was lying pressed up next to him, an arm draped over his chest. Both were still asleep and snoring. Mercifully, both were still clothed. Diavla pointed at them, raised her eyebrows and looked at Kervan, who shrugged. She stood and walked over to him so that he could speak without waking everyone immediately.

“They were like that when Orvan woke me,” he murmured. “I fell asleep before Varga did.”

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

For some reason, Diavla wanted to yell at Kervan, even though that made no sense. She stifled the impulse and walked over to the pair. Varga, curse you, this is ridiculously thoughtless even for you! What did you do to him? With him? Is he going to be mad? We can't afford that! It's dangerous!

Diavla prodded Varga with her foot. She might have used a bit more force than necessary. Unfortunately, it had the opposite effect to what she intended: Varga simply kept snoring, but Tom stirred. The human opened his eyes.

He looked up at her, blinking slowly, then down at Varga sleeping with him. The look of alarm on his face would have amused her quite a bit if she weren't so upset. He immediately started shaking his head in denial and lifted his free hand away from the fool elf cuddling him.

Don't get mad at Tom, she told herself. This is all Varga's fault. Besides, it would be idiotically stupid to alienate Tom right now. She waved a hand placatingly at Tom to signal that she wasn't mad at him. She kicked Varga again. Tom winced and held up a hand in a plea for her to stop. Diavla stepped back and her hands flew to her mouth. “Sorry!” Tom nodded in understanding.

Clumsy! I'm being a fool. Why am I being stupid?

She crouched down and carefully pried Varga's arm off of Tom. “Thank you,” he said in his own language, then repeated himself in Elvish. “Thank you.”

“I'll get Sheema,” she told him and stood. “Varga, get up.”

Varga made incoherent noises of protest, then finally opened her eyes to a squint. It took a few seconds for her to process the situation. Then she smirked. “Good morning, stud,” she told Tom. Diavla hissed air through her nose, and Varga laughed. “You're so easy, Dee.”

Tom clearly didn't understand, so Diavla clamped down on her reaction, managing not to grit her teeth at Varga. “If you're awake, how about you see to the animals so we can get going?” Then she walked quickly over to the Healer, who was already starting to stir.

“Good morning, Sheema.”

The short elf's violet eyes opened and she looked around wildly for a moment. “We're still alive? And not in the cage?”

“So far.”

“It's hard to believe it isn't a fever dream,” Sheema said thickly, wiping her eyes.

“Saa, Sheema. You've been pushing yourself pretty hard for a whole day. What can I do to help?”

Sheema drew breath and gave an enormous sigh. “He's mostly out of danger now. I want to see to his head injury some more. It's been bothering me but I didn't dare let up on the gut wound, you know how easily those can kill. Plus I don't know how stupid or stubborn he's going to be and if he is likely to re-injure himself.” She shook her head. “Thanks for asking, but I can't think of anything unless you find more sweets.”

They made their way over to the human. Diavla removed his bandages, then Sheema summoned the nearby Healing spirits. Tom cooperated by holding still and watching in fascination at the Healing process. Sheema pushed herself until she was almost ready to fall over, and Diavla reached out to steady her.

“I'm fine. Thanks.” Sheema stood.

“Thank you, Sheema. Thank you,” Tom told her in both languages. He nodded his head respectfully. Sheema nodded back and walked over to her bedroll.

Diavla could see the relief from pain on Tom's face as she carefully put fresh bandages on his gut and his arm. While she worked, she couldn't help but feel the hard muscles under her fingers. He must be very strong. Not a lazy guard, this one.

“Thank you, Diavla,” he murmured.

Diavla nodded. “You're welcome.” When Tom stared at her, she explained, “You say ‘thank you’, I say ‘you're welcome’.”

“Ah. You're welcome You're…wel…come.”

“You're welcome,” Diavla repeated the human version. They shared a small smile.

She finished with the bandages, then felt along his skin a moment for other injuries they might have missed. His skin was cool to the touch, and marked by several large scars. He must have interesting stories to tell about each of those.

Tom cleared his throat. She glanced at his face, which was turning a bit red. Her gaze swept down his body until she saw the bulge in his pants. Ah, he has an “early riser.” He has nothing to be embarrassed about. She sat up and politely looked away. Tom very slowly rolled over, got onto his hands and knees, and crawled carefully into the woods to answer nature. She surreptitiously watched his behind move. Nothing at all. She took a breath and shook her head to clear it.

Diavla kept an eye out for his return while she checked on the rest of the camp. When she saw the damage to the cage, memory came back of a few of them vandalizing it. She stared at it, pursed her lips and nodded to herself. The wagon might be useful. Let's get rid of that horrible thing.

It was a bit of a project, but they took the time to pry the iron cage off of the wagon bed using tools from the ironwork wagon, and then they all carried it farther into the woods to make sure it wasn't easily visible from the road. There was no sense in alerting random humans that there were escaped slaves around, and traveling with the empty cage would raise questions. Tom returned to his bedroll. He looked like he really wanted to help but wisely stayed put. Yes, this would have been a good time for those great big muscles.

Tom got broth for breakfast and Orvan prepared some sort of soft-boiled grain meal for everyone else. It was bland but nourishing. Once everyone had cleaned up after breakfast and washed as best they could, it was time to pack up and go. Since the weather was good, they decided to lay Tom in the back of the now empty wagon, with Sheema riding beside him. Diavla would drive that wagon. Then Kervan would follow with the grain, Brallik and Rillik with the fabric, Orvan with the booze, Arven with the black cases, and finally, Varga with the ironwork.

There was a tense moment when they realized that Tom had dropped the pouch with the slave tokens on the ground where he had first fallen. He had to be the one to pick it up; none of them could touch it. They paused, trying to figure out what to say to the human.

Diavla postponed the decision by improvising. “Arven, Varga, pick him up in the blanket, and move him so that the pouch is in easy reach. Set him down as if you're just resting for a second, and ask him to pick up the pouch while you're there. Everybody else stay back so there's no one for him to ask to do it for him.”

The maneuver worked. Tom grabbed the pouch without complaint and they laid him in the wagon they had occupied for so long. Crisis averted, they took a few moments to get comfortable with the draft animals, Varga explaining her impressions and suggestions to the others. Everyone wore a cloak with a hood that they could pull on quickly, to try to pass as humans if they encountered anyone on the road.

Finally, Diavla called out to the others, and began to drive the wagon carefully down the narrow path from the clearing back to the road. There was a deep rut in one place and behind them the fabric wagon lurched badly before the animal pulled it past. After checking with Tom a moment, she turned left and aimed them north, towards the human city of Rivermarch.

∘ ⛥ ⛯ ⛥ ∘

The road had very few travelers on it, and the forest was clearly untamed and mostly uninhabited. Why do humans bother with invading us when they have all this unused land on their own continent? Diavla wondered. Some people just can't enjoy a thing unless they've deprived someone else of it. Sick.

As they traveled, Diavla and Tom each worked on learning the other's language. It was made much more awkward by Diavla's need to steer the wagon. Sheema paid attention at first but clearly didn't have a knack for it, and was content to watch the forest going by or nap much of the time. They covered words for parts of the body and such while the Healer was listening, then moved on to things like colors and periods of time once she lost interest. Tom apparently was very concerned to make sure that Diavla knew about the seasons and that it was going to get very cold in this region eventually. She did her best to reassure him.

“Just because we didn't ever get snow in Kilder Vald doesn't mean I don't know what snow is. Both continents are large,” she told him in exasperation, knowing he wouldn't understand. “We do get snow in the south.” Explaining that turned into a lesson on compass directions and names for pieces of land.

It was mentally exhausting. Learning one word was usually easy. Learning hundreds of words in one day gave Diavla a headache. Of course, Tom had had his own headache to start with; she respected his stubborn willpower. There wasn't actually any need for him to learn Elvish, and it would be a long time before they had to worry about Tom understanding anything they didn't actively help him with.

They didn't stop for a midday meal. Tom indicated that there would be a good place to camp if they traveled until evening. That made sense, at least.

They only encountered three humans all day. Each encounter was brief: a single rider on a zenayu. The animals looked strange because they had no stripes, and came in several colors. Tom called them horses.

The riders going past them in the same direction didn't stop, and were soon long gone. The one headed south paused and asked Tom a few questions. Diavla kept her head down and watched the human out of the corner of her hood.

“Hello?” the rider called.

“Hello!” Tom shouted from the back of the wagon. The rider turned their animal to pace the caravan and Tom beckoned the other human closer. That put the rider mostly behind her, which was nerve-wracking but at least kept the man from seeing her face any longer than necessary. Tom might have done that on purpose.

After that, Diavla couldn't catch any more words except bandits, but did her best to remember the sounds for later. She got more and more nervous as the rider kept asking questions. What are they saying? I can't make out any of the words. What is he asking? What is Tom telling him?

Tom sounded tired but friendly, and answered calmly. She wasn't picking up any feeling of tension or misdirection from either human. By the tone, the rider was asking if they needed help, and Tom was declining. Finally, they said some sort of parting words and the rider turned around and got moving again. Diavla furtively watched him go, and the horse-man didn't spare the others more than a quick glance before riding off. A minute passed. Finally, Diavla couldn't contain herself any longer.

“Tom? What did you say?”

Tom was quiet a moment. A quick look showed him thinking, but it looked like the usual struggling with language rather than plotting or planning a lie. Finally, he answered in Elvish.

“He ask south, bandits. I say. I ask north, bandits. He say no. He help, I say no. We are… good.”

“Did he see us? Um, he see elf?”

“No. He see, he say. He no see.”

Diavla felt some of the tension leave her. “He see, what you do? What you say?”

Tom hesitated, then said, “I see he say, he do, then I say, I do.” After a pause, he added. “I no think good. Elves good here? Bad here? Slave elves good? Slave elves bad?”

“Slave elves good. We are here.”

“True. Yes.” Tom nodded. He had a habit of saying some things in human first, then translating. “But you (something). Um… I no see you.” He gestured something blocking, meaning the cover on the cage.

That's a fair point. If slavery is illegal in this country, they might have been trying to sneak us through to whatever our final destination was going to be. Seems very risky, though. If we had known to start shouting for help while in a city, they could have had real problems. Still, it might have just been the urge to secrecy, avoiding individuals who don't like slavery, or people who hate elves so bad they would kill us on sight.

Or maybe they didn't want anyone to see Sheema, as she would be too tempting a target. I have to admit, showing her off in a cage would be asking for trouble. Any noble who got wind of her might show up and force the slavers to sell her at the price the noble chose.

Diavla looked back to continue the conversation, but Sheema had two fingers to her lips for quiet. Tom had fallen asleep again. Diavla sighed and nodded. Learning to speak human language was hard, but driving the wagon down the road without conversation was boring.

Well, boring definitely beats some of the alternatives.