To my surprise, June leapt to her feet without my prompting. I thought I would have to push her out of the bushes to get her to unwittingly distract the men who called themselves traders. But no such measures were needed. June made her way to the widened path, her hands trembling, her steps quick.

“What exactly are you doing  to this  child ?” she demanded. Her voice took on a bleating quality—partly from the cold and partly from the rage. “You will release him at once!”

Perfect. The slavers would take the time to chastise June—a meddling woman—for interrupting their important business. If they harmed her…well they would not harm her because I was not ready to become a murderess quite yet.

I took the chance to move across the path, darting between shadows. I would have to sneak to get the keys off the horseman, but being quiet was a lifelong obsession. Mine was always the silent approach.

I waited, still crouched in the dark near the first wagon, for Rosemary’s part. Usually, she started it with the loud crack of a stick. And, echoing through the hillside…there it was.

Episode 24: A Skirmish Among Unlikely Foes

I watched a dozen or more pyres stream from the woods to the path, descending on the caravan with snarls and bared fangs. Rosemary had gotten to them just in time to reveal the plans of the slavers and to tell them not to panic while trying to save the boy. She convinced them to join our efforts instead. And truly, our efforts hardly ever existed without the help of many.

June screamed as the attack began. The governess had not anticipated pyres threatening to call down the wrath of God. The slaver she had been quarreling with shoved her into the bushes, brandishing a sword and facing the onslaught. With great opposition. The pyres were prepared to spill blood.

I took the strategic distraction as an opportunity to lift the keys from the belt of the horseman. The next part had to happen quickly, for I did not know which wagon my pyre was being kept in. There were four.

I opened the first using the small knife I kept in my boots to slice the bonds of the pyres within, removing their blindfolds. That part was tricky and best done with great haste, for sometimes pyres were very confused and thought I was a slaver meaning to cause them harm.

By the third caravan, I had freed almost twenty pyres from their captivity. They leapt and ran and crawled out of the wagons, some to join the fray, and others to convene with the darkness of the forest. But soon, I knew, the slavers would signal for assistance with the blowing of a bugle. And we would be forced to escape or be caught ourselves.