The woman rubbed her wrists, trying to keep the tears away. “We cannot in good faith let her enter your grounds. She could be a spy,” the guard said.

“Then it will be on my head,” Indenuel said. “Back to your post. This woman is next in line.”

The woman bowed to Indenuel in the Oraminian fashion, with her hands outstretched and her nose practically touching the ground. “Noble Warrior, if it makes you more comfortable, I will say my plea here.”

Indenuel took her hand and lifted her to her feet. “Don’t bow to me. I will take you back.”

There were mutterings of shock in the crowd as Indenuel kept a hold of her hand, leading her to the desk at the front of his house.

“So, it is true. You are familiar with our ways,” the woman said.

“I have a few Oraminian friends who have helped me understand a bit of your culture,” Indenuel said.

“Who are these friends in the city? Leaf talkers or seers?” she asked.

“Leaf talkers,” Indenuel answered.

“Ah. I see.” There was something in her voice, the slight disappointment as well as a hint of fear.

“You must be a seer yourself?” Indenuel asked as they got closer to the desk.

“I am, yes,” she said.

“What is your name?” Indenuel asked.

“Do you want my full given name as according to Santollian customs?” There wasn’t hostility in her voice at this.

Indenuel dropped her hand once they reached the desk. “Whatever you are most comfortable with.” He sat in his chair.

“You may call me Yasirda of Saimis, sir.”

“I am Eskmenmar of Mountain Pass.”

“Eskmenmar? I thought the guards called you by a different name,” Yasirda said.

“I’ve been told Eskmenmar is easier to say for Oraminians,” Indenuel said.

“It is,” Yasirda said.

Indenuel smiled. “How can I help you today?”

Yasirda looked down at her feet. “Your kindness to Oraminian people has reached my ears, sir. I would simply ask that you listen to my plight. I hope your friendship with leaf talkers will not taint what I, as a seer, have to say.”

Indenuel frowned, realizing again he was a semi-outsider to the Oraminian people. He couldn’t be certain, but if it took this long for the Oraminians to finally accept Tolomon, he doubted many of his friends would even talk to Yasirda. “I, too, am a leaf talker. Does that bother you?”

“You have all four,” Yasirda said.

“One of them being able to talk to trees.”

Yasirda stared, then shook her head. “It does not bother me.”

“Then please continue. I will try not to let the histories of your race as well as my own keep me from listening to you,” Indenuel said.

“That is incredibly kind of you, Eskmenmar.” Indenuel ushered her into the chair next to the desk. She hesitated but took it, placing her hands in her lap. “I remember life before the invasion, sir. I was once a member of nobility among the Oraminians. We were a peaceful people, though it is true we held slaves. It is true that I, as a seer, was held in higher regard because I am not a leaf talker. And we believed all the healers and weather controllers among my people simply died out, much like our eyes if ever we marry outside our race,” she said, pointing to the corners of her eyes.

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Indenuel couldn’t help it and winced. So Garen was right about that. He wasn’t sure about the weather controllers or the healers, but clearly the eyes must have been true.

“I was nobility when your people came to free our slaves.” Yasirda glanced over to see Tolomon, more importantly saw his hand lingering on the hilt of his sword. “You have brought our slaves to your cities, done your best to give them a good life. Tried to help them learn Santollian and forget the ways of my people so they can have better lives. But the seers…” There were tears in Yasirda’s eyes. “I have watched my friends who had once been noblemen starve to death in the conditions, we once, admittedly, put our slaves in. Starved, because they paid us two coppers at the end of each week to use to buy our bread which costs three.”

Indenuel frowned. He then looked at Tolomon, who looked just as confused. “Describe more what you mean.”

“The fields we once had our slaves work we are now working in Oramin while our Santollian masters keep us in line.” She started to cry. “We are given hardly enough to survive. To save on lodging, we are placed in the barest of houses, often ten people to a room hardly larger than a single horse stable. And we do not have the power of leaf talking. We are forced to work with our hands to till and harvest food. And…” Yasirda pulled down the shoulder of her dress to reveal a corner of her back that was so covered in flagellation scars that bile crept to Indenuel’s throat. He partially stood, gripping the edges of the desk, his chest tightening at the sight of such violence.

“Did you know about this?” Indenuel whispered to Tolomon.

“Of course I didn’t,” Tolomon said. “I knew there were people placed in charge of Oramin, but I didn’t… they shouldn’t be allowed to go that far.”

Yasirda covered herself back up, looking at her shoes as she blinked back tears. “If this is truly God’s punishment for holding slaves, please let Him be the one to give it to us. Let Him give it in famine and plagues. But this feels more like Santollian revenge. I have heard reports of the same thing happening in Zimoro.” Yasirda met Indenuel’s gaze. “I do not expect you to believe me, as I am only one voice, but I promise I would never lie about this.”

Indenuel’s fingernails dug into the wood of his desk before reaching over to touch the tree giving him shade. He closed his eyes and pushed his power as far as he could reach. He traveled to the end of the main road, but he couldn’t go further. He was still sensing Santollian country. He deepened his power, the anger there.

Move, he ordered the tree roots. Move for me.

He pushed his power into the roots of the tree, forcing it to reach as far as they could until they touched another tree roots. An entire world came to his view. He reached through, finding himself in Oramin, seeing the beauty of the thick trees and the high mountains. He reached further, knowing he was certainly breaking some international laws, but he didn’t care. He pushed forward until he found it. The old slave farms. And they were still operational. None of the people sensed him, but he sensed them.

Indenuel opened his eyes and Tolomon was there, steadying him. Indenuel blinked a few times, studying Yasirda as he oriented himself back into Santollia. “Do you need a place to stay for the rest of the holiday?”

Yasirda shook her head. “No, I shall return to my home in Oramin.”

Indenuel’s chest tightened as he understood what she meant. “You will be in danger. If anyone finds out you came to talk to me, you could die.”

“They already know, Eskmenmar. They have been hunting me since I crossed over the border. I will be arrested as soon as I return, and I will be tried and hanged.” Tears pricked Indenuel’s eyes at the casual way Yasirda said this.

“As the Warrior, I can grant you safety. Give you a paper with my signature. Help you start a new life.” Indenuel turned desperately to Tolomon. “Can’t I?”

Tolomon shook his head, not looking at Indenuel. “Not with Oraminians.”

“Damn it! Why not!” Indenuel asked.

“Because they are not Santollians.” He sounded like he was in pain saying this. Indenuel waited for Tolomon to explain further, but apparently that was the only explanation. Indenuel was Santollia’s warrior, not the worlds. Indenuel turned his focus back on Yasirda. “You cannot return home. You must stay here. I can offer you protection if you are a guest in my home.”

Yasirda smiled, the tiniest glimmer of hope in her eyes. “No, Eskmenmar. My homeland may have been conquered, but it is still mine, and I would rather die there than here. What happens now is in God’s hands.”

Indenuel winced. The Gods were dead. Indenuel didn’t know if They knew the world would get this bad in Their absence, or if They knew Indenuel would be the person to step up and stop it.

Indenuel walked around the desk and knelt beside Yasirda, helping her up, holding her hand. “I swear to you, Yasirda, that I will take your request to the King and Queen. What you have described is slavery, and I will get them to stop. I cannot promise it will happen today, but I will promise that before I die, you will be freed.”

Yasirda began to cry. “Thank you, Eskmenmar.”

She hugged him, and he hugged her back before she turned and left. Indenuel headed for the stables. He pointed at a servant by the door. “Write down the names of everyone in line and what they request then tell them to go home. I will get to them either later today or tomorrow.”

“Indenuel,” Tolomon said carefully. “I’m just as shocked as you are, but whatever this is must be entangled in politics. This is not what we’re meant to do.”

“So, I step aside and do nothing?” Indenuel asked.

“I’m saying you don’t have the demeanor of someone who deals with politics. If you lose your temper with the King and Queen, one wrong word, and you could be killed.”

“They wouldn’t dare do that to the Warrior,” Indenuel said. “And I made a promise.”