Chapter 1: Stranger
The stranger had tried to steel himself to the size of Riviera, or at least what its size had been a century. The first time he looked at the maps in Harmony's library he assumed the scale must be wrong. The elders assured him there was no error. Harmony, with all its outlying farms and valleys, would fit into Riviera's walled land a dozen times and more.
Nevertheless, when the old road broke out of the trees into a meadow, with a muted gasp the stranger pulled his horse up short. The far side of the field ended at a ten foot high stone wall covered with barbed wire that seemed to curve around to either side into eternity.
The path cut through the meadow at an angle to a gate about a quarter mile beyond. This should be the Holden Outpost, the same gate by which Harmony's founders had left Riviera generations before.
The loud caw of a crow from a tree above startled the stranger out of his reverie, and he clicked his tongue, urging his horse forward. After days in the forest he felt nervous in the open field, and he kicked the horse into a trot until they were in the morning shadow of the wrought iron gate. The stranger dismounted and peered through the bars.
Inside, the meadow continued, and so did the road. To its right was a small house covered with yellow paint which in places was peeling. The house had a sagging wraparound porch, and on it was a woman dressed in a green tunic and leggings, leaning her chair back on two legs until it rested against the wall. Her face hung slack, and delicate snores escaped her mouth. Her long strawberry blond hair hung in heavy braid over one shoulder, with wisps escaping here and there. By her side, on the floor of the porch, also sleeping, curled up like a dog, was a naked man with dark curly hair and pinkish skin mottled by cuts and bruises. His only covering was a metal collar, perhaps two inches wide, attached by a long chain to a post of the porch.
The stranger cleared his throat. Neither gatekeeper nor slave stirred. He called out but they did not hear. His horse came to his rescue, snorting impatiently.
The slave awoke with a start, scrambling to his hands and knees and looking around in confusion. The stranger cleared his throat again. The slave, seeing him, bowed his head to the floor but overshot, hitting it with a bang. Whimpering, he slid his entire torso back down to the ground and kissed the floor boards, pushing his mouth down until the stranger was certain he would get blisters on his lips. By his side, the gatekeeper slept on.
"Excuse me," the stranger said in the most courteous tone he could manage, although his voice croaked from lack of use. The slave boy looked up, and immediately lowered his head in a panic. Slowly he looked up again, as if he were a small child playing peek-a-boo. The stranger made no move. After a moment of deliberation, the slave boy carefully wriggled up to where his mistress' boots touched the floor, and cautiously nuzzled their toes.
The gatekeeper woke in an instant. "You dare," she hissed, and kicked him in the chest.
"No, don't," the stranger cried out involuntarily from behind the gate. The slave fell back and made a gurgling sound.
At the sound of the stranger's voice, the gatekeeper looked up, startled. She had light blue eyes and a fine, aquiline nose just a touch too narrow. The stranger realized the woman was younger then he had first assumed. Her mouth opened and closed in surprise, and then she broke into an easy laugh. "Whyever not?" she said. Absently she took the whip from her belt, doubled it over, and smashed it into the slave's lower back, marking a half circle in his skin. The slave keened through closed lips but did not move. The stranger grasped the wrought iron of the gate tightly.
The gatekeeper took no further notice of the slave, but arose from her chair and descended down the two or three steps of the porch. Lazily, as if stretching, she pulled from her tunic and then overhead a leather string with a large metal key attached. When she unlocked the gate it swung inward. She stood aside and let the stranger lead his horse through. "You didn't leave by this gate or I'd have been expecting you back," she remarked defensively.
"I'm sorry," said the stranger, embarrassed. "I didn't mean to put you out. Or cause trouble for him," he added indicating the slave with a jerk of his head.
The gatekeeper laughed in a puzzled way. "You're an odd one, aren't you?" she said. When she finished relocking the gate she reached up and petted her neck, smiling when the horse snorted. "Say, this is a fine beast. What stable is she from? She could use some water, I bet." She gave a friendly, expectant smile. At the same time she yanked the chain attached to the slave's collar, causing him to slide headfirst down the porch steps.
The sick metallic feeling flooded the stranger's limbs. He shook his head to clear his mind. Misunderstanding him, the gatekeeper frowned. "You should mind your horse better," she said. "You can't always put your needs above the beast's." For emphasis she kicked the naked slave who now knelt on his hands and knees at her side. The slave gave a short keening through closed lips but made no other sign.
Recklessly the stranger grabbed at the gatekeeper's arm.
"I mean no disrespect to you," he said in a strained voice. "But maybe out of hospitality to a visitor to your land you could be kinder to the fellow."
The gatekeeper started and stared, and then laughed a low laugh. "A visitor! To Riviera!" she exclaimed. "Well, I'll be." She looked at him closely for the first time. "Say, you're not from Alphronsia, are you? I had an aunt who went visiting there once. Never came back."
The stranger shook his head. "No, not from so far. I come from Harmony."
"Harmony!" The gatekeeper looked him up and down, slowly, and then over to his horse. "You don't look like much of a rebel, but you never can tell, my Da says. Are you the healer that was sent for, then? I thought it would be an elder that would come." She frowned at him.
"I am the healer. I finished my apprenticeship these two years past." He held out his hand for her to shake, and added, "I am called Gabriel."
"I am Nadia," she said, taking his hand limply. She continued, more formally, "I welcome you to Riviera." Then she smiled as if amused by her own words.
Gabriel looked down at the slave still cowering on his hands and knees by Nadia's side. He felt green as he realized that the slave, although undersized, was an adult. His dark, wavy hair hung over his face, hiding it, and his thin limbs put Gabriel in mind of a coyote. The slave's shoulders trembled, but whether from fear or exertion Gabriel could not tell. If he was aware of Gabriel's scrutiny he gave no sign.
Nadia said, "Hugo's got no more energy than a snake in the shade. But if you've the need and inclination after your journey, one slave kneeling over is pretty much like another. You're welcome to him."
Gabriel looked at her in complete bafflement, until he realized with a shock what she meant. "Oh, no," he said, involuntarily taking a step back from her and the slave.
Nadia furrowed her eyebrows. "Which side you favor is nothing to me," she said. Hugo remained silent and motionless, except for the tremors in his shoulders, which seemed to be increasing.
Gabriel forced himself to take a deep, slow breath into his diaphragm, sending the air to find his center of gravity. The green feeling subsided slightly. "You've misunderstood me," he said. "I was looking at him only because I am a healer. Some of his cuts are infected, and I see can see from here he's feverish. I'd like to try to make him more comfortable." He hoped the expression on his own face was pleasant, even as he determined to himself that he would treat the man whatever Nadia said, and whatever the consequences. He hoped to reach the Bearer's daughter, and to acquit himself well, but he could not put that purpose above the man who cowered before him. He had taken the healer's oath and he would uphold it.
Nadia contemplated his countenance. After a moment she stepped aside, stiffly and grudgingly, her shoulders taut with anger that belied her staccato words. "In Riviera we believe in hospitality to strangers. You can have a few minutes to do as you like with him. The key is in his collar." She turned on her heel and walked purposefully around the far side of the house, not looking back.
As Gabriel approached the groveling figure he saw that, indeed, the heavy metal collar had a key in it. He turned the key, opened the collar, and flung it into the dirt some feet away. The metal had left a red tattoo in Hugo's neck. Gabriel asked him softly, "Are you in pain?"
"Yes, sir," Hugo responded in a hushed, cracked voice. He bowed his head down to the ground.
"I am a healer," Gabriel said. "Will you let me help you?"
Hugo did not lift his forehead from the ground. "I am your vessel, master," he said raggedly.
Gabriel shuddered and sat next to the man's bent over figure, looking at the bloody X cut in his back by Nadia's whip. He saw that Hugo's entire back was covered with scars and whipmarks. He touched gently next to where the X crossed. "Is that where it hurts the most?" he said softly.
"I am your vessel, master," Hugo repeated. He raised his head slightly and coughed, a dry rasping cough. Then he quickly lowered his head again, banging his forehead on the ground without a whimper.
Gabriel opened the waterskin he carried on his waist. "Can you sit up?" he asked Hugo. Hugo instantly raised up his body and sat back on his knees, his head down, his eyes staring expressionless at the ground in front of him. Gabriel pressed his waterskin into Hugo's hand. "Drink," he said, "It will make you feel better."
Hugo obediently raised the water skin and squirted water into his mouth, swallowing it without expression. Gabriel stood and went to Pegasus, who had wandered a few steps away to nibble on some thistle. He retrieved a pack from the bags hanging on Pegasus' saddle and fiddled with various small, odd shaped paper and leather packets until he found the one he was looking for. Taking out a cake of soap, he turned back to the slave, who was still pouring water into his mouth and swallowing robotically. Gabriel gently took the skin from him. "Easy," he said. "You don't want to drown in that." Hugo kept his head tilted back, expressionless.
Gabriel wet his hands with water from the skin, and washed with the soap. Returning it to his pack, he again looked at various packets until he the dried leaves he needed, and, with more ease, a small clay bowl wrapped in leather. He poured a few drops of water into the bowl and then crushed the leaves into dust over it, stirring the mixture into paste with his forefinger.
