Chapter 12:
Valencio was in the last group, packing finally, but only after Tasha said shrilly, “For God’s sake! It’s not bad luck to pack!”
He tossed a few sets of numbered shorts and shirts in the small suitcase, a couple of drawings that Emma had given him, his shaver and his gold pen. His gold paper-knife was in his pocket, and there were other weapons. He wasn’t expecting to need them. It seemed there was no dispute, and things were calm.
His trousers were inches too short, and the sleeves of his jumper, as well. Those in the laundry knew the sizes of each medj prisoner, though the women only by number. But they didn’t know how tall Valencio was, and there had been a lot of swapping around of shoes. Valencio’s had been a fair guess, only a little too small. So uncomfortable. Eighteen years! He’d been a prisoner for eighteen years, and in all that time he hadn’t worn shoes or long trousers.
He was trembling again, pale, very tense. But he was not the only one. Emma waited outside their door and squeaked, “Hurry, quick. They’re already taking the first group.”
Carol said to him, “Is there any reason, do you think, to expect fighting?”
Valencio looked at the guards who waited, one to go with each group of twelve, it seemed. Kofi-Zee and Rafu stood close to his group, who were gathered together, fearful rather than hopeful. Emma held tight to Valencio’s hand, and Tasha held an arm.
Valencio looked at Carol, “I don’t know. I can’t tell.”
Carol hesitated a moment, then went, list in hand, and quickly checked the names of those in the second group, who were escorted out by Zhang. There was no reason to delay, and she went on to the third group, checking names and nodding to the guard.
Kofi-Zee said, “Valencio, come here.”
Valencio stood still and Kofi-Zee went to him, instead. A touch of the wand, and ankle straps and wrist straps fell away.
Tasha’s voice, coming from a distance, it seemed. “Valencio, you are not to faint. Behave yourself!”
Kofi-Zee said calmly, “I guess we should have done it sooner.”
Valencio shook his head and Emma said gently, “Come on, Valencio. You are so strong, really. I need you.”
Thierry, from just behind, whispered, “And I need you, too. I’m scared.”
Time to go, and they came to the Mekk Box where the fourth group was being loaded. There was a small audience. Fudo and Abensur were vigilant, and extra guards stood close. Those who’d had ‘favorites’ as well. Hicham was there, looking forlorn. He was losing his woman. Abensur was too busy yet to realize his loss. Ryuichi, who looked at Evita, and then looked back at the real thing, Valencio, a full grown man, but still beautiful and looking very strained. Ryuichi would have had them all killed, not quite thinking of them as people, just as expensive and useless mouths to feed. Even Valencio had never been real, just a fantasy of something he’d never had and now never would.
There was a sudden disturbance, and Carol was there instantly, trying to reassure Sheila that the Mekk Box was not there only to kill them.
Valencio scarcely noticed, just standing stock still, held firmly by Tasha, and shaking still, slightly. Sheri brought back the news, that John Bellamy had returned Clarence and Bernice in order to show they were not dead, and now Sheila was all right.
Tasha said to herself as much as to her husband, “Soon now. Freedom very soon.”
Kofi-Zee and Rafu watched Valencio closely. The last time Rafu had seen him this tense, was just before he’d found himself and Thuli on the ground. There were instructions. If any of the prisoners gave trouble, they were to be stunned without delay, and put in the Mekk Box to be conveyed to their new home. There must be no disturbance that could still provoke fighting. Kamchatsu and a couple of others were close and muttering resentfully. Hopefully, they wouldn’t make trouble now, as most of the ones in Enclosure 1 had been evacuated in the first groups. None of the el-Kobi knew where they’d gone, and Bellamy had made it so that only Zhor and Najia, beside himself, could work the Mekk Box.
There was no hesitation when it came to their group - the last. Valencio didn’t look back, though many of the women did. He just stepped up into the box and looked warily at John Bellamy, the renowned great wizard, who, long ago, had cured Brahim’s face.
Bellamy looked around as soon as they were all assembled and the door closed, and said quietly, “Know that you cannot say anything about magic or Wizardkind to any medj, aside from each other, without my specific permission. Remember your cover story, and regard Loch Carrikh as your home until such time as you’re confident that you can make a new home for yourself.”
Valencio jumped and quivered, feeling the mind touch, knowing that his mind had been interfered with, again.
But then Bellamy just said, “Your luggage will be sent on, into the luggage room of the castle in just a few minutes. Dot and Michael and the others will look after you.” He opened the door of the Mekk Box, and there was a grey day in Scotland, misty rain, mountains half obscured by fog, trees stretching into the distance, and a loch, the water looking steel grey and very cold.
Valencio stumbled as he stepped down, and Tasha said, “Careful, love! You nearly pulled me down as well.”
John Bellamy was smiling slightly, as he saw the last of the medj walk slowly away from the Mekk Box. No longer slaves. If he had his way, no medj would ever again be made a slave. So far, not a one had looked back or thanked him, but he’d seen the earlier ones. There were tears, and several still lay or sat close, the ones who’d fainted, several more who’d come close. Thirty or forty years, some of them! On that first trip with Carol, she’d told him she’d been there since she was eight. How could anyone hurt a child like that?
Bellamy shook his head. But Zhor and Najia needed him, and not to act the vengeful god, tearing the Kobis apart because of what they’d done to little girls. To that angry young man, too, who, he presumed, must once have been an innocent boy. He left the Mekk Box for the use of Zhor and Najia who’d gone over in the first group, and returned to Morocco. He set to work sending on luggage, and even that apparently simple piece of magic was something no-one else could have done.
Valencio had to try and be stronger as Emma cried in his arms, and Thierry needed him as well. Tasha just stood, staring at the mountains, half concealed in cloud. Dot Halloran, one of Bellamy’s employees and currently manager of Loch Carrikh, waited patiently, now accustomed to the initial emotion of freed prisoners. She finally started talking, introducing himself, introducing Michael Bruce, her husband, a big man, wearing his hair long, the same as the Kobis did. He looked fit and carried the same aura of power as a Kobi Fighter, even though he was in perfectly ordinary casual medj clothing. She explained that there was to be lunch soon, and she’d tell them more about the surrounding area. This was to be their home, she said, as long as they wanted. If they went away, they could return, all their lives. Their home.
Valencio’s eyes roamed, mist and mountains and forests, and a drive and an open gate onto a road. Lunch? He couldn’t eat now! He said to Tasha, pointing, “Come for a walk?”
Tasha looked around, and pointed to a different track, quite steep and overgrown, winding up the mountain. She looked understandingly at her husband, “You go, if you want. But come back and don’t get lost.”
Valencio nodded hurriedly and started striding away down the long drive toward the open gate. Tasha called after him, “It’s called Loch Carrikh. Don’t get lost!”
There were still workers everywhere, swarming like bees, preparing the home for the eighty-one ex-slaves.
Valencio walked, needing to walk, needing to prove to himself he was free. Just a shirt that still had a number on, jumper and too-short trousers. Unfamiliar shoes that wore blisters he wasn’t conscious of.
It took two hours, and he sat down on the side of the road and leaned against a low stone wall. There were no surges of pain. There were no wizards with wands, and no-one was thinking of punishing him for disobedi
ence. Had they been told to stay within bounds? He wasn’t sure, but he’d known as he passed through the open gateway that it was no longer ‘home.’ He wondered if that was crio-magic, just so they’d know. But they must be free. He’d only hesitated an instant, and he’d left the home being prepared for them, left Tasha, his wife, who must be worried.
He was so stupid, and he wasn’t at all sure he could find his way back. Had he been good at finding his way once? He couldn’t remember. Eighteen years, and he’d never been outside the enclosure area without an escort of at least two guards, and so rare, even then. So selfish. Tasha had been there since she was thirteen, which meant she’d been a prisoner for twenty-six years. And he’d just hurried off and left her.
After a while, he got to his feet and started limping back in the direction he’d come. By the direction of the sun, seen weakly through cloud, he worked out that he’d been heading South, so he had to go North. Loch Carrikh. Trees and mountains. A loch and misty rain. An old castle. He didn’t even know the name of the nearest town. He stopped and took off his shoes, but left on the blood soaked socks for warmth. How long since he’d been cold? He shook his head at himself again. So stupid! None of the women were as stupid as he was! Clarence had sense!
A battered truck passed by, smelling of sheep, then braked and reversed. “Want a lift?”
Valencio looked surprised at the man. Such pink and white skin. Even Belinda had some tan in Morocco.
The man repeated, slightly impatiently, “Do you want a lift?”
Valencio said, “Yes, yes, please, I do.”
“Hop in then,” said the farmer.
Valencio hesitated, “I’m all wet, and my feet have blood on them. I guess I’d best walk.”
“Get in. It’s only the farm truck.”
Valencio smiled suddenly, and admitted, “I am a bit tired.”
As soon as he was seated and looking around in discernible pleasure, he was asked, “Where are you heading?”
Valencio paused, and then said, “The way we’re going.”
The farmer looked at him assessingly. A young man, trousers too short, clothes soaked with rain, shoes in his hand. He said, “You’re not one of the refugees are you? Moved in to the old McGuiver castle.”
Valencio hesitated. Refugees? He said uncertainly, “They called it Loch Carrikh.”
“Loch Carrikh, the old McGuiver place. I live close by. My name’s Joe Corbett.”
Joe Corbett held out a hand to Valencio, who smiled again, a little dazed, and shook it. He’d known that normal men wouldn’t automatically want to rape him, just because wizards always did.
Joe said patiently, “You call me Joe. What’s your name?”
“Valencio.”
“Valencio what?”
There was a long pause. He couldn’t be Valencio Durano. That was someone a long time ago. And besides, someone might know the name. Were those films still been shown now and then? The second one had been good, though it had been only a small part in the first, and the third had been some weird esoteric thing he never had understood. He hadn’t even seen the final version. He finally said, “Just Valencio. I don’t have any other name.”
Joe nodded and decided, “I think I’d best take you to my home to begin with. The wife can have a look at your feet, and we’ll phone Loch Carrikh to say you’re on your way back.”
Valencio was surprised again, and finally said hesitantly, “You’re very kind.”
“It’s just rumors, that there’s to be a group of refugees living there, but no-one’s said what from.”
After a pause, Valencio said, “There are eighty-one of us.”
“Men?”
“Most women.”
Joe stopped asking questions and started talking about the area - the nearest town, his farm, his two daughters, now grown up.
The gentle soothing talk continued at Joe’s home, Joe now feeling fatherly. The young man really was a little pathetic. Anne Corbett made a fuss of him and insisted on bathing his feet in warm water, exclaiming over the severe blistering, and looking significantly at her husband when she saw the pale skin around his ankles where the cuffs had been. Manacles? Around his wrists as well, half hidden by his wet jumper that clung to him. And he looked too thin. Joe bullied him into dry clothes, saying he’d collect them in a day or two.
Valencio suddenly laughed, “I’ve never washed clothes. I daresay it’s easy enough.”
Anne said, “How about some scones and maybe some hot chocolate to warm you up?” She didn’t wait for an answer, just bustled about, organizing it, as Valencio watched her in pleasure. She was short, round, and gave a feeling of warmth, like a warm home. She pleased him. She was like a mother should be.
Anne Corbett gave him an assessing look and didn’t ask questions, but told him about her first daughter, who was at University in Edinburgh, and her second, who had the most lovely baby imaginable, their first grandchild. Valencio was at rest, in the calm and the warm. He yawned, and Joe checked his watch and asked if they’d be worrying.
Valencio admitted, “They might be.”
“Do you want to phone?”
Valencio shook his head and said he’d walk home if Joe would just tell him the way.
Joe stood up decisively, “We’re going in the truck.”
Valencio was accustomed to doing what he was told, and didn’t argue. Joe pulled up at the gate of Loch Carrikh, not driving in as he normally would. He didn’t question his automatic action, but there was crio-magic that influenced him. There was too much magic on display for the moment to allow casual medj visitors.
Tasha looked up with enormous relief when she saw her husband hurrying up the long drive. She’d been afraid he would not find his way back. She understood him. For the rest of them, the large property had been enough, but Valencio had needed to prove to himself that no-one would try and stop him.
He was truly free. He wore different socks and declined shoes when Tasha said there was a supply of clothing available to them when needed. She pointed out a small cottage that she said was for them and laughed and hugged him. He said, “We’re going to have to learn some new skills, I think. Already I have to have the clothes I’m wearing washed and returned, though not the socks. He said I could keep the socks.”
“It’s cold and it’s wet and it’s altogether wonderful, and there’s a lot of work to be done, organizing bedding for everyone. You’ll have to come and help now you’re back.”
“Ourselves?”
“Organized. But most are in dormitories, and some are in bedrooms inside the castle, except that they’re still being worked on. Dot said it was a ruin only a week ago.”
“Dot?”
“Dot and Michael are in charge for the moment, but they say we can take over as soon as we’re ready.”
“Are they people like us? Medj?”
“No.” Tasha smiled at him, “I’m afraid they’re bloody wizards, but they’re good bloody wizards, and they’re doing their best for us.” She added, “They’ve got a little boy called Robin, and there are two other children here as well, but they won’t be staying.”
For the next two hours, Valencio helped make up beds, helped move furniture, though he avoided working too closely with the wizards. He didn’t mind the freia, and none of them were wearing wizard robes. That helped. Some of the bedding, some of the mattresses, even some of the furniture had a big ‘C’ on them. Adelbert told him, “It means it’s conjured, but conjured things vanish suddenly and anything conjured has to be replaced as soon as possible.”
There was a lot of laughter, cooperation, and a pure joy that permeated the area. Freedom. No restraints, no numbers, no guards.
Some had been too badly damaged. Mostly, the older ones huddled in groups and seemed not to take in that there was work to be done. Tasha said, “The Group Leaders have been told to continue looking after their groups. I don’t think anyone expected so many to be so lost.”
“You?”
Tasha shook her head, “It’s hard to believe, but running around and making up beds on the floor.... It helps.”
“Who was our Group Leader?”
“Sheri. Hilde and I were just to look after you, and Carol was to look after everyone.”
Valencio shook his head, ruefully. Two just to look after him. He said, “I’m fine now.”
Tasha went to him, “Hold me?”
He held her and gently kissed. Tasha clung to him. He said in a tone of wonder, “We’re really free. In a normal world, where farmers’ daughters go to university and have babies. Where there are cars and trucks, and cattle and sheep. Some dogs barked at me when I was walking, and it rained...”
“You should have seen the girls. There’s a slope outside, and they played rolling down the hill. There’s a muddy puddle at the bottom, and they were black with mud.”
Zhor and Najia were also at Loch Carrikh, working very hard, conjuring blankets. There had not been enough time to get in all the supplies needed, and hardly anyone else could conjure a blanket that lasted the night. Dot put a head around the door, “Enough blankets, but if you can, a few more chairs please?”
Zhor nodded, and Najia asked, “How are they?”
“The boss says they’re very damaged, and we should expect to have them long-term, some maybe all their lives.”
“How are they now?”
“They want a party.”
Najia laughed, “A party!”
“I suppose they’re justified,” said Zhor.
“We’re fixing up the ballroom for them. Tristan’s organizing drinks and music.” She vanished, hurrying. She was getting very tired and there was so much to do.
Najia smiled at Zhor, “We freed them,” said Najia. “We did it!”
“Not without the help of John.”
Najia said confidently, “You would have worked something out, even without him.”
Zhor said proudly, “We make a great partnership, you and I.”
Najia smoothed a thick, red blanket, studying it closely. “What about John?”
Zhor hesitated, “I don’t know...”
“I was right. I always said he could show you that sex was good.”
But Zhor didn’t like not being in charge. She didn’t know about John Bellamy.